The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (14 page)

Shuffling my hands under the pillow and screwing my eyes shut, I ignore the aching pit in my stomach and try to fall asleep. It doesn’t take me. I find my mind aimlessly wandering to Big, to the run, what he’s doing, and more importantly if he’s doing anybody. My heart thuds remembering him telling me he loves me, while my tired mind torments me with the images of sexy, non-pregnant, beautiful, big titted, perfectly sculpted women throwing themselves at him. I know it’s stupid. Like really fucking stupid. But I can’t sleep, and my mind won’t shut the hell up.

Insomnia for the first time in ages teases me on the cusp of a peaceful rest. The rest never comes. I doze for minutes only to reawaken with a sick dream or twisted thought about my mother, Big, my life and the path I’ve chosen for it, and more importantly my unborn daughter. As much as I try to push the thoughts away, they take me again and again like a never-ending string of nightmares. Big fucking a beautiful buxom blonde. Harley hating me. Deke loving me, but then hating me for not returning the same level of affection.

Restless hours pass, and I can feel the lightness of the sun hitting my eyelids as it begins to ascend the horizon. Pretzel snores in peace at the end foot of the bed. Flipping over, away from the window, I throw the floral scented covers over my head and groan, defeated. I hate not being able to sleep. I’ve slept fine all week since Big left until now. Why today of all days my mind decides to screw with me, I haven’t a damn clue.

Unsure of how long I’ve attempted, yet failed at catching any normal amount of sleep, I rouse when my phone on the nightstand vibrates more than once. Someone is calling me. Knowing it’s either Big or a sister, I roll over and snatch it up. I don’t even check who it is when I connect the call.

“Yeah,” I grumble into the phone, a husky sleepiness clinging to my tone.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” It’s Big, and he sounds worried. My heart warms at the thought, but I quickly dismiss it. He’s just being nosy.

“I’m fine,” I reply, turning away from the window and hiding under the covers, phone pressed to my ear.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“What do ya need?” I change the subject. I don’t want to reminisce about my mind’s fucked up dreams about a certain hot blonde. It’ll only make me angry.

“Are ya leavin’ yet?” he asks, and then I hear a rustling as if he covers the end of receiver. He comes back a moment later, “I can’t talk long. We’ve got shit to do. I wanted to catch ya before ya left.”

“I dunno when we’re leavin’,” I mutter and stifle a yawn.

“You been sleepin’? Takin’ your vitamins?” The softness of his voice doesn’t do what it should. I know it should make me feel gooey inside that he’s trying to be sweet. Only it makes me mad that he’s speaking to me like a fucking child. Even though deep down I know it’s out of love and because he knows how awful I am about taking medicine. Except right now, it only registers negatively.

Unable to control my flaring temper, I snap, “Nope and yup.” I pause for a second then add with attitude, “Okay, dad?”

He growls his response. It’s one of those potent ones that feed my anger and my libido all in one swoop. Fucking asshole is a sex genius, I tell ya. I can almost picture his glistening eyes as they narrow on me, pissed off yet amused. I bet he’s even hard. I won’t ask though. I remain silent and listen to his heavy breathing and grumbling through the phone. My pussy loves every damn second of it. I can’t help it when I squeeze my thighs together and relish in the throbbing sizzle. I can’t believe how much I missed his stupid voice. Even the bestial one. Dear Lord, listen to me, delirium is starting to set in. I need to hang the phone up now. This is only going to get worse.

I don’t even realize I’m breathing heavily into the phone until Big says, “You’re breathing heavy. Does bein’ a pain in my balls turn you on, Sugar Tits?”

I rasp, “Huh?” barely making it out. Then I lick my lips. Damn, I need sleep or to get laid. I need something. Reading those erotic novels all week hasn’t helped my obnoxious sex drive. Probably should have read something much less racy. Stupid me. But the pussy wants what the pussy wants.

“You’re breathing heavy. Are you wet?” he presses, amusement evident in his tone.

Clearing my throat, I take a luxuriating breath to calm down and unclench my thighs to lessen the throbbing. I reply as evenly as possible, trying to mask my tired, horny voice, “We’re leavin’ sometime today. Thanks for callin’. Like ya said, you’ve got shit to do. I’ll call when I get in tonight. Text if you need me to check in sooner. Be safe,” I cut myself off before I tell him that I love him. Even though I desperately want to let it slip, just so he knows. We’re still not on an even keel. He still has groveling to do. The I love you’s will come when we are no longer in what I’ve deemed the relationship danger zone, which coincidently has mostly to do with him keeping his dick to himself and cutting back his controlling nature, since I don’t like to be pushed around.

Apparently his shit to do wins out and he lets me go, but not before he tells me he loves me and how much he misses my tits too, of course.

I smile happily and roll my eyes, as I hang up the phone and slide it over to the empty spot in bed beside me. For some strange reason, I feel even more tired than I did before we talked and much less horny. It’s like he took my feral need with him when he hung up. Good riddance as far as I’m concerned. I can’t get off on my own anyhow.

Snuggling down into the bed, my mind churns with the comforting sounds of Big’s timbre voice, and before I know it, I’m being soothed into a dreamless slumber. That’s right, fuck you insomnia.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

“Is there anything I can get you, Miss Cummings?” my adorable attendant, Sarah, queries through the small speaker in the headrest of my pedicure massage chair. This chair has the fucking works. It’s made of brown buttery leather, and it’s heated. It has those rollers inside that you can change to various types of massages and it vibrates too. Not to mention the bubbling footbath my feet are soaking in that’s filled with warm lavender scented water. I’m in pure heaven, and my Sacred Sisters seem to agree, as we all sit here and get ourselves pedicures and manicures after receiving other spa treatments earlier.

Today, we ordered day spa packages, which included our choice of one hour massage. I got a prenatal one, and it was divine. All packages also provided lunch, which we ate wearing our plush terry robes and slippers in a private dining room for just us sisters and Gunz. Yes, he’s been actively participating in the entire experience in his own Gunz way. No massage for him though. He stood outside my door the entire hour I had mine. He’s playing bodyguard. Everywhere I go, he goes, per Big’s instructions. And by the curious looks we keep getting, people think I’m some spoiled heiress, which kind of pisses me off, but my attendant Sarah has been pleasant, so it’s all good. We’ve all had an attendant assigned to us since we’re getting the VIP treatment, courtesy of Big. He’s laying it on real thick. I even had a dozen roses and a box of my favorite Dove chocolates waiting in my hotel room when we arrived late yesterday.

Speaking of yesterday….

Yesterday, I was awakened by the sisters. If it hadn’t been for Pretzel, I think they would have had a fucking coronary since I wasn’t in the basement when they came to see if I was ready to head out. I didn’t even hear them until Pixie nudged me awake. It was already past noon, and we headed out shortly thereafter.

By Gunz’s order, I was to ride with him, and since his truck isn’t really girl weekend friendly, Pixie offered her Suburban. Gunz drove, and I rode shotgun after a short argument with Pixie about her truck, her rules. I’d wanted to sit in the back, and lost. Beth drove separately to keep the household car far away from Jonesy and his mischievous ways, while the rest of us piled into the Suburban like sardines for the hour-long drive to the hotel.

We spent most of yesterday settling in and browsing the local area. And by browsing I mean shopping. Did I mention how much I hate shopping? I do. And want to know how much I hate it after yesterday? A million times more. Baby boutiques and sisters with a hole burning through their pockets, with the need to spend obscene amounts of money on my baby and Dixie’s…. talk about a nightmare. Three hours later, dead on my feet from shitty night of sleeping and a dreadful day of baby shopping, we headed back to the hotel and ordered room service for dinner. It was delish.

Gunz must have needed a pick me up after hours of mindless shopping, because late last night after I’d already been out for maybe an hour, I woke up to the sounds of him fucking Niki in our bathroom. Pretty sure they don’t know what the word
quiet
means. Moans, grunts, a bunch of nasty talk later, I was wishing the Lord would strike me deaf at any moment— didn’t happen. Even with my hands over my ears and the TV on, I could still hear her climax six or seven times. If it wasn’t for the fact I knew who was getting her off, I would have been envious. Except it was Gunz and thinking of him in that way
makes my stomach roll. That’s just plain gross, even if you don’t think so.

This morning before we headed to the spa, I talked to Big on the phone for a few minutes and thanked him for the flowers. I almost asked him to call the dog off, so I didn’t have to share a room with Gunz. I’m the only sister in her own room with her own bodyguard. The rest of the sisters have taken up the two other rooms adjoining ours. Niki is with Dixie and Candy Cane. Beth and Pixie are with Jezebel. I’m the odd man out. Not that Gunz is a bad choice in roommate, aside from him loudly fucking Niki in our bathroom. That’s not the kind of entertainment I was seeking when I came on this weekend. If I wanted to listen to porn, I would turn on my computer.

“I’m fine, Sarah,” I reply to my attendant. Opening my eyes, I dial back into the surrounding conversations as a nail tech lifts my feet from the water and proceeds to massage my calves with lavender scented lotion.

Sideways glancing to my right, I watch Jezebel leaf through the spa treatment binder. Next to her Pixie’s getting her nails painted a garish red color.

“Who’s getting waxed?” Jezebel asks all of us.

“I already did last week,” Niki chirps up.

“I don’t do wax anything,” Pixie declares.

“I went with Niki last week and got a Brazilian,” Dixie adds.

“I’m only trimmin’ the playground, no fuckin’ wax.” Gunz explains, sitting diagonally from me with his feet soaking in a footbath. I shake my head not wanting to know anything about what he does to maintain his playground. He could be a hairy beast down there for all I care.

“That’s right, Handsome,” Niki purrs, directly across from me, biting her lip as she eyes Gunz suggestively. “I trimmed your playground last week.”

Niki’s intense gaze flicks down to Gunz’s crotch. I close my eyes not wanting to see any more. I didn’t come to a spa weekend to see my friend undress her regular fuckbuddy with her eyes. I came to relax. End of story. Time to change the subject.

Keeping my eyes screwed shut, and relishing in the calf massage with my arms wrapped around my robe clad belly, I nearly lose it when Jezebel unknowingly asks, “Hey Beth, you wax?”

To keep from laughing, I purse my lips and gnash my teeth together. I don’t want to embarrass her. If Jez only knew that Beth had a seventies bush, then she wouldn’t have asked. I didn’t tell anyone about what’d I’d seen; that would have been disrespectful.

In response, Beth makes an anxious noise in her throat.

“It’s cool, if ya don’t,” Jezebel recovers. “I was just wonderin’.”

“I…I’ve…never thought about it before,” Beth stammers uncomfortably.

“Me neither,” Candy Cane affirms.

I open my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose and out my mouth to calm myself. Leaning over the arm of my chair, closer to Beth, I whisper, “If you need someone to talk to about shaving,
we can talk.” My eyes meet hers to try and convey what it is I am hinting to.

Beth’s alabaster cheeks swiftly blush with recognition as she too leans over her arm to close the distance between us.

“How did you know?” she murmurs awkwardly, raising a brow.

“I saw when you were drunk the other night.”

“When I went to the ladies room?”

“Yes,” I nod my confirmation. Even though it wasn’t exactly a ladies room, it was Big’s office. But that’s neither here nor there.

Beth wheezes with embarrassment and jerks back into her seat. Sitting ramrod straight, eyes forward, her hands clamp down on the arms of her chair turning her knuckles pale, as her cheeks flush a deep red and the color travels down her neck.

“Beth, it’s not a big deal,” I quietly attempt to reassure her while our sisters carry on amongst themselves, oblivious to our sensitive subject. I really wish she wasn’t so self-conscious about all this. So what if she’s not like the rest of us. She’s a helluva lot more innocent that’s for damn sure, which isn’t a bad thing.

Here’s case and point on her innocence versus ours…You listening?

“Vajazzling, yeah I’ve heard of it. I wonder if Pinterest has DIY boards for that,” Jezebel comments to the sisters.

Candy Cane barks an amused laugh, as Dixie confesses, “I’ve done that once. Brew thought it was pretty. He took each gem off with his….”

Oh fuck no. I tune out the rest of that sentence. I know too much as it is about my brothers’ sex lives. Picturing him and his pregnant wife with gems on her puss—no thanks.

I reach across to Beth’s chair and touch her forearm for moral support. She jerks on contact but doesn’t yank away.

“Madam,” my nail tech calls to me from the floor.

Keeping my hand on Beth, I look down at the woman who’s doing my pedicure as she lifts a hot pink nail color from her little rolling cart. “This is the color you want?” she jingles the glass bottle.

“Yes, hot pink on my toes and nothing on my nails,” I clarify.

“You don’t want color on your nails?” Niki asks, having heard my explanation.

I shake my head and open my mouth to reply, only to be cut short when Pixie answers for me. “No, Bink doesn’t like polish on her fingers, says it chips too easy, and she cooks too much.”

“Yeah,” I jerk a nod toward Pix. “What she said,” I tease, grinning and winking at Pixie for remembering one of my many idiosyncrasies. I only do finger nail polish on the rare occasion, and today isn’t gonna be one of those days.

“Doesn’t Big like his woman to have her nails pretty?” Niki questions next.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” I shrug and make a face that says I don’t give a fuck one way or the other. Because frankly, I don’t.

“You don’t care if your man, the president of the club, likes his woman’s nails to be done?” Niki probes, apparently not satisfied with my first answer.

Sternly shaking my head, I look Niki straight in the eyes. Gunz clears his throat knowing damn well that if she starts anything I will finish it. Right now her tone seems more curious then rude. Let’s just hope it stays that way, for her sake and mine.

“Nope, I don’t care if Big likes my nails done. Just like I don’t care if he thinks I should reuse my bath towel. I won’t. Or if he thinks I should fold my socks instead of balling them in pairs.” I swallow hard, feeling my throat constrict with agitation for having to explain myself. “That’s my business what I do, not his. And if he wants pretty manicured nails, then I suggest he paints his own or find himself a new woman.” I’m firm, unwavering. That all she’s going to get from me. I won’t repeat myself.

“Hmm,” Niki contemplates. “I was just wondering because every time Big—,” she doesn’t get to finish that sentence before Gunz shoots over the edge of his chair and covers her mouth with his hand.

“Don’t,” he warns harshly. Her eyes get large, flicking from him and back to me. Her face falls, and all the color drains from her cheeks.

The room goes eerily quiet, and my heart can’t help but thump erratically in my chest. It’s so strong I can hear the blood rushing through my ears. I can’t believe Gunz is openly putting her in her place like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gunz reprimand another female for me, aside from Lindy Sue.

“You gonna shut it?” Gunz prompts with a sharp edge to his tone.

Niki, hand secured over her mouth, nods glumly. Dropping his hand, Gunz gives her a stern look of disappointment and sits back in his chair. Someone is going to get punished tonight.

I don’t even have to be told what Niki was going to say. I’m pretty sure I already know on my own. Big probably complimented her on her pretty nails whenever he fucked her. Even though she should have never said a goddamn thing to me about it, I don’t think it was said maliciously. Her crestfallen expression tells me all I need to know. Guilt is eating her.

All eyes fall on Niki and then to me, awaiting my reaction. Beth’s warm hand lays over mine; I’d forgotten was touching her. With my other hand, I rub my belly to calm my jacked up nerves. Even though it wasn’t said to hurt me, I’m still a little on edge. When a woman talks about your man and you already know they’ve fucked, it’s kind of hard not to feel something. In this case, it’s a dose of mild anger mixed with a bit of shock, which is quite the concoction.

“Bink, I….,” Niki is the first to speak. “I’m,” she audibly swallows and her bottom lip quivers. Shit, she’s going to cry. There is no reason for her to do that.

“It’s not a big deal, Nik,” I try to reassure her, to keep her from breaking down, which would probably make me cry too. God knows I don’t need to cry anymore. I’ve had just about enough of that in the past few months.

“I—I,” she stammers, heavily dropping her head to look at her lap. Shielding her face, she rubs her eyes. “Gunz,” she mutters with need.

“You want your punishment now?” he sounds unbearably tender when he speaks. It’s like he was expecting this reaction from her. Niki nods solemnly, still rubbing her eyes as Gunz instructs both of their nail techs to dry off their feet.

Moments later Gunz is escorting a guilt stricken Niki from the room, with his hand dominantly curled around the nape of her neck.