MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 2: (Motorcycle Club Romance Novel) (21 page)

I step forward, entering his bubble, and I place a
gentle hand on his tense shoulder. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. A
grumbling noise rumbles in his fury infused chest. He’s crossing over into his
bestial state. I hate when he gets like this.

“Big,” I soothe with a warm tone,
while my hand remains stationary on his cut. “I haven’t had sex with Marshall
in quite some time. So no, when I said that, I didn’t mean sex. I meant it as a
whole. Like when I am feeling sick, like yesterday, she kicked when I was dry
heaving. Moments like that. I am not talkin’ sex, so please calm down.”

A massive gust of air expels from Big’s mouth, and all
the tension seems to melt away. Without warning, he wraps his arms around me,
resting the side of his face on his daughter. I brush my fingers through his
hair, as he holds me tight. My heart swells, and in this beautiful moment, I
fight with everything in me not to break down and cry. What an emotional day;
it’s like riding a never-ending roller coaster. Not that I can blame either one
of us; this is a sticky situation. We are both just trying to rein in our
emotions, which has proven to be quite difficult.

Minutes pass, and he continues to embrace me, rubbing
his warm cheek to my belly, eyes closed. How can a man so hard and unrelenting
be so loving and accepting? Nuzzling his cheek to my belly that holds a baby
that he thinks is someone else’s? It takes one helluva man and a whole lot of
love to be this wonderful.

“Big?” I tenderly whisper, trying not to disrupt the
serenity. My palm smooth’s over his hair and his bristly turned up cheek. His
eyes open, and he lifts his head but doesn’t unlock his arms from around my
back.

Glancing up, his affectionate eyes bore into mine,
“Yeah, Sugar Tits?”

Dear God that voice, that deep husky, vulnerable
voice. No wonder I love this man so much. Just one look at him has the icy
barrier surrounding my heart thawing and the chunks breaking away. The thaw
leaves a raw, honest, and still injured heart beating just for him. I wish I
could tell him how I truly feel. But I can’t. He has a girlfriend, a woman he
cares for, and we are not here to fix us as a couple. Correction, us as a
whatever
we were or are. This is about
saying what needs to be said to move on with our lives, to move forward and out
of this destructive unhealthy behavior we seem to bring out in one another.
Both of us can then go back to our lives, one less load of shit on our
shoulders. We still have to interact, but the poison we spit when our blood
roars will hopefully recede significantly.

“You ready to talk?” I ask.

He nods and releases me. I take a seat next to him on
the bed, close enough that our legs bump. I don’t know if I’m supposed to speak
first or allow him to. I don’t get a chance to question that any further when
he clears his throat and bends forward, feeding his hands through his hair
again. Fuck, this isn’t a good sign.

“Alright, I’m gonna say what I gotta say. Then you can
talk. ‘K?” he says.

“’K.”

“I don’t even know where to fuckin’ start,” he shifts
his ass on the bed, trying to get comfortable. “When you was a kid, your pops
and I were friends until shit with the cunt started happenin’ with you,” he
takes a deep breath. “It pissed me off. How a bitch could treat her own blood
that way made me see red many times. The day you came to live here. You remember
the day?” he turns his head to me with questioning eyes.

“Yes, I remember.”

Of course, I remember that day. I was
being tormented at school, and my mom never came to protect me. Gunz and Big
saved me and took me to get bras. Yeah, I remember that day like it was
yesterday.

“Good,” he grunts and turns back to staring at his
boot covered feet. “I never told you, but I took care of shit that day.
Threatened Lindy Sue, told her she was lucky I couldn’t put her in the ground.
I almost did too. I went crazy. Your pops talked to me, and I gave him an
ultimatum. I kill the cunt, or you move into the clubhouse with me and the
brothers. You know what happened.”

“I moved in,” I reply lightly, not wanting to
sidetrack his story.

“Fuck yeah, ya did. After that fuckin’ day, your pops
and I haven’t been the same kinda brothers. Sad too, ‘cause we used to be
close,” he sighs, like he’s replaying all the good times he had with my daddy.
“When you were eleven or somethin’, maybe older, I can’t remember, your mom
started bitchin’ about wantin’ ya back. What she really wanted was
money
. Tried to blackmail the club and me.
Said she knew some shit that we did, and was gonna offer up proof to the Pigs.
Knowin’ your pops, he probably leaked some club biz. So to keep her trap shut I
paid her off. Just so she’d leave well enough alone.”

“How much?” I have to ask.

“That time? Ten grand,” he pauses and nods once as if
he’s affirming the amount in his head.

He keeps on, “A few more times over
your teen years, she started in on the same horseshit. One time she said she
was gonna take you away for good, move out of the compound. I blew a gasket.
Went nuts, tore up a bunch of shit, drunk off my ass. Paid her off again. Same
shit different day. Gunz and I got tired of her, but your pops refused to kick
her to the curb because of some personal shit. He’s a brother, you know how
that goes.”

This is wild. I hate my mother, no doubt. But him
staying with her after all of this? Sick. It’s really sick.

“Then, I think you were close to fifteen, sixteen
maybe. Your pops came bangin’ on my door in the middle of the night. Not gonna
give ya the details, but the cunt fucked up bigger than before. We sat down at
four fuckin’ a.m -- Gunz, your pops, and I, and hashed shit out. Agreein’ that
1) I was paying her off for good. I was done with her blackmail bullshit. 2)
I’d put her in the ground if she didn’t get her fuckin’ act together. 3) Nobody
was to tell you shit about nothin’. And 4) That once you turned of age, I was
gonna claim you as my old lady. Your pops flipped,” he pauses. “
Shit
,” he runs his hands through his hair
and down the back of his elongated neck, where he treads his fingers together.
His biceps flex.

“Gunz even looked stunned. Long story short, your pops
and I ended up in a fistfight. In the end, I agreed, after a long fuckin’ and
bloody night, that I wouldn’t pursue you in any manner till I hit fifty. Gave
you enough time to find a man, and if you didn’t, you were fair game. That’s
the gist,” he explains.

Um… okay.

“So basically you
bought
me from Lindy Sue? And she kept hittin’ you up for money? And you kept giving
it to her? Then you agreed to take me as an old lady when I turned thirty
without
my
consent? You know you could have just broke the stupid agreement and tried
sooner.”

Holy cow, that didn’t just come out of my mouth. Try
sooner? I need to think before I speak. I didn’t mean that.

He doesn’t seem affected by my words.

“No, no, I couldn’t,” he shakes his
head. “If I had, I would have forfeited another fifty grand and some other
shit. It was part of the deal, and I had already spent plenty as it was, and I
always keep my word. But that’s not the rest.”

“There’s more?” I squeak, perking up.

He chuckles huskily, “Yup, lots.”

A few moments pass as he remains
silent, like he’s mulling over how to explain himself. Our heavy breathing is
the only sound to keep us company.

“You know all those punks you dated?” he finally
speaks.

“You mean the ones who cheated?”

“Those would be the ones,” he bounces his head.

“What about ‘em?”

“Gunz and I made a pact, after you know, that shit
went down with the cunt,” Big shifts again, uncomfortable.

“Fuck the rules!” he thunderously
growls, and returns his tone to normal. “I made new ones. Every boy you dated,
we’d handle. First, we’d do the civilized thing and offer him money to go away.
We’re gentlemanly like that.”

Now I’m the one who barks a sarcastic
laugh. Gentlemanly, my ass.

He continues, unaffected. “And if
he’d asked for too much green, we’d threaten ‘em. And like the pussies they
are, they’d go scurrying home to mama with pussies between their legs and no
dough. Worked fuckin’ great.”

“So the men never actually cheated on me?”

“Nope. None,” he shakes his head. “Do you think a man
in his right mind would cheat on the hottest thing walkin’? Ignore the fact
that you’re smart, tough as nails, and funny, with great taste. Your smokin’
body and sugary tits,
fuck,
that’s enough to keep a cheater from straying.”

Well, okay then.

My mind says I should catapult off the bed, get in his
face, and shout at him for controlling my life. I can’t though. My heart is
thumping to a whole different beat. It might be illogical, but it’s TKO’ing my
mind’s commands to unleash on Big.

Big sideways glances at me, perking a curious brow.

“What?” I shrug.

“You’re not yelling at me. Are you in shock?” He’s
dead serious.

“No.”

I could wonder the same thing. I’m not in shock
though. I’m… I dunno… relieved? I kind of already knew about the money, just
not the extent of it. However, first and foremost, I am thankful for his
sacrifices. Financial, the quality time and everything in between. I hate he basically threw money at men to dump me. That is shitty. In hindsight, it
was probably for my own good. I wouldn’t be carrying Harley right now, if
those breakups hadn’t have transpired. So I can’t say I regret his decisions or
hate him for them. Yeah, I didn’t like him throwing all this on me at once last
year, saying he was going to own me and refusing to tell me why. Makes sense
now.
Sorta.

Not sure on what to say, I remain quiet.

Big sits up straight and reaches his hand out to lay
it softly on my exposed knee. Looking away, he asks, “Do you love him?”

“Who? Marshall?” That’s an easy question to answer.

“Yeah,” he uncomfortably grunts and stiffens his
shoulders. Marshall must affect Big more than anything else. He goes instantly
on the defensive when anything pertaining to Marshall is brought to attention.
I can relate; I feel the same about Marylou.

“No, I don’t. But I do care for him. He’s a nice man,
and he takes care of me,”
not sexually,
“and
he loves me,” I try to explain gently, without any inflection in my tone.

Big’s body turns to stone under taut
flesh as the hand on my knee tightens. Time to take Marshall out of this
equation and simmer down Big’s blustery emotions.

“Do you love Marylou?” I ask,
swallowing the intense jealousy like a hot branding iron. My stomach clenches,
just speaking her name, and it gives me a bad taste in my mouth.

“What kind of question is that?”

I’m not sure if he’s being a smartass
or not.

“A real one,” I scoff, stamping down
the urgent need to roll my eyes at him.

“Do you think I love her?” He turns
his body so he’s facing me, and his knee hikes up to rest on the bed. I shrug.

Why is it so hard for him to give me
a yes or no answer? Oh right. It’s not. He’s just playing a game with me.

I stare at my lap, avoiding eye
contact. “How am I supposed to know? You fucked her on a pool table in the
middle of a party.”

Hooking his thumb under my chin, he
tilts my head to look up at him. “
Why
did I fuck her in front of the club?” he raises a questioning brow and faintly
grins.

“The fuck if I know,” I blurt,
rapidly losing my patience.

“I’ll tell you why,” he reaches out
and takes my hands into his, his soft loving eyes boring into mine. The
sweetness makes me want to smile, but I won’t. This isn’t the time, so I
refrain from showing any emotions. “I fucked her in the clubhouse with you
present because
you
were present.
I touched her more than I ever have the past two days because
you
are here.”

“Why… Why would you do that?” I
stutter, shocked by his honest admission.

His hands grip mine harder. “Look at
it from my perspective. You love someone, I mean truly love someone. I don’t
care what people say. I believe that you can only ever love one person with all
your heart. You give it up. Then they end up holding too much fuckin’ power
over you. You are the only woman I ever gave my heart up to.” My heart
sputters, as he continues. “Maybe it happened when you were born, hell if I
know,” he shrugs with his whole body. “Maybe it happened when you became this
beautiful sex kitten.”

I giggle.
Sex kitten.

He growls, furrowing his brow. “Don’t
laugh like that.”

I do it again, out of spite, and he
growls harsher.

“Why not?” I tease.

“It makes me harder than I already
am, and I could pound a fuckin’ nail with my dick right now. And you’re
giggling at me, all sexy and shit, when I’m tryin’ to be serious. It makes my
dick cream in my boxers, and it’s drippin’ enough already. I can’t fuck you
right now.” he sighs throwing his head back. “But fuck, I want to,” he groans
huskily.

Just listening to him talk like that
has me wet all over again. Shit! My clit has woken, and my pussy is pulsing.
How does he do it? Even my nipples are tingling.

I say the first thing that comes to
mind. “You can fuck me. Now. I won’t mind.” My body squirms at my admission,
and he releases my hands to roughly scrub his face. He stands to pace the room
in long, powerful strides, grunting in sexual frustration under his breath.

“Don’t fuck her, please. Use my body.
Not hers.” I couldn’t bear it if he fed his feral needs using Marylou. I will
beg if I have to.

“Stop,” he covers his ears, shaking
his head. “Just stop talkin’ like that. We can’t fuck. You’re pregnant. I can’t
fuck you. I can’t.” I think he’s trying to convince himself more than me.