The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) (32 page)

Another hit. More heavy breathing, more chains thrashing, more pain.

I think I’m going to be sick.

My heart thumps erratically in my chest, and my own breathing becomes labored as my skin slickens with sweat. Between punches, I brave a few glances at my old man as he’s beaten down. With each punch both to his front and back, he becomes ragged, body draining of color, cloaked in sweat. Ugly bruises form under the skin, and some ooze bright red blood.

By the seventh punch, the tears I wish wouldn’t form do. They well in my eyes, making my heart break just a little more. I try to speak, but I’m afraid. I wanted to remain strong. I wanted to do this for him. But look at him…. hanging there, arms sagging, fighting through his own pain, his own inner demons, his own guilt. And for what? To tell me he’s sorry for fucking Niki? Does he deserve a hit for that? Once upon a time, I might have thought so. Not anymore. Does he deserve a beat down for locking me in his basement? Or for fucking Linda and using her as a replacement? No. None of it deserves this kind of punishment.

Fuck!
I just wish this would stop.

‘
Crack!
’
Not closing my eyes quick enough, I watch in agony as Gunz slams his weapon wrapped fist into Big’s ribs.

Big doesn’t pause to reel in his pain, this time he pushes through it. “I—I—I… I’m...I’m sorry for thinkin’ about you as I jacked my dick even before you were of age,” he forces out. Then he takes a deep breath and gruffly whispers, “Babe.”

I stop chewing my inner cheek and truly look up at him. He looks back at me with a small grin in place. “Did you hear what I’ve been sayin’?” he sounds stronger this time.

Hesitantly, I nod my reply.

“Did ya catch what I said about bein’ sorry about Linda?” he asks.

I nod again and swipe a tear from my cheek. Of course I heard that. I heard everything. Even the way Gunz pounded into his flesh like it was no big deal. How can he do that? How could he do that to my Big?

His eyes grow tender and his grin turns sweet, “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

He. Loves. Me. Those words…shit. I double nod, and my bottom lip wobbles as tears begin to rapidly spill down my cheeks. I let them flow. There’s no stopping them now that I’m bawling. This is too damn much. He loves me. How could he love me? I don’t deserve him.

“Big,” I choke through tears.

“Yeah, my love?”

Shuffling on the dirty floor, I maneuver onto my knees so I can get up. I have to go to him. I can’t sit here anymore. Not after all that.

Placing my hands on the floor and using my legs I try to push up, I fumble a bit but am quickly righted when a damp hand cuffs around my upper arm and helps me to my feet.

“There ya go,” Gunz mutters, keeping hold of me until my feet are both safely planted on ground.

Dusting myself off with my hands, I thank Gunz and give him a quick peck on the cheek before I go to Big. I stop when we become toe-to-toe and don’t waste another second to have him in my arms. Carefully, I wrap my arms around his middle, trying not to hold on too tight. Then I lay my head upon his uninjured pec, nuzzling my warm tear stained cheek against his cool, clammy, form.

Heavily, he sighs, sagging with relief, “Hi, my Sugar Tits.”

“I love you too,” I whisper.

“What’d you just say?”

Removing my cheek from his pec, I tilt my head back and carefully rest my chin on his sternum. I meet his eyes with a smile, “I said, I love you.”

Big drops his head down as far as he’s able. I take the hint and lean up on the balls of my feet. I brush my lips along his.

“Say it again,” he breathes.

“I. Love. You.” I enunciate, smiling to his mouth.

I can’t believe I’ve said it aloud. Those words coming from my lips come as a surprising relief. I love him. I love Big, and now he knows. Never thought I’d see the day I’d ever tell a man I was in love with him. Now here I am, my hands wrapped around my man’s body, and I am telling him what I feel, not only in my heart but deep down in my marrow and in my soul.

My lips press firmly to his, melding us together. He parts his lips, and I fit mine into his, lingering there as we breathe through our own emotions. My hands move to run through the sides of his damp hair and I hold him to my mouth. He grumbles his approval, an erection stiffening between us. Lightly caressing my tongue to his lips, he shudders a breath, and I savor the sweet-salty taste of his mouth. The kiss is tender and somehow conveys more than I think I could ever say aloud. I love him, he loves me, and we’re going to do this together.

Keeping my hands in his hair, I pull my lips from his, but I don’t move away. I stay close, my belly and breasts grazing his naked form and my feet touching his.

“I love you,” I mutter once more, my eyes gazing into his.

“I love you more, my love,” he smiles, the lines around his eyes highlighting his delight. “Did you hear what I said about you as a teen?”

“That you masturbated thinking about me?” I reply.

“Yeah….” he pauses a beat before continuing. “Can you forgive me for that?”

“What do I need to forgive?” I’m perplexed as to why this is something he feels he needs to serve a penance for.

“That I was thinkin’ that way before you were an adult,” he clarifies.

“So?” I still don’t see why it matters.

“So?”

“Yeah…So. Do you honestly feel guilty about that?” I ask.

Big nods. “Hell yeah, I do. I took ya to a dance, and I was hard the entire time you were on the back of my bike, pressin’ your hot tits against my leathers. Once we got back and I saw you to your room, I spent the rest of the night jacking my dick or pumpin’ it into some club whore, thinkin’ of you the entire fuckin’ time,” he fiercely explains.

Holy shit! I can’t believe he just said that!

I swallow down my heart that’s somehow jumped into my throat. My stomach feels strange. It feels kinda gooey, and butterflies are dancing in it.

“I took ya to the pussy doctor when you were seventeen. When you were done, we rode to the Dairy Bar and got some ice cream. You remember that?”

I remember that day so well. I’d taken the day off school to get a female checkup. Big took me on the back of his Hog and waited in the lobby till I was finished. Afterward, as a treat, we rode to my favorite ice cream place, where we got soft serve cones and ate them sitting at the only picnic table in front of the Dairy Bar.

I nod my remembrance.

“I remember that day too, and that’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop starin’ at you lick that fuckin’ ice cream cone picturing it as my dick. Or what that ice cream might taste like lickin’ it from your lips,” he confesses, and I feel my cheeks heat, flushing from both excitement and shyness. He’s never said anything like this to me before. I would have never known.

To forgo this strange feeling that’s consumed me, I comb my fingers through Big’s hair as a distraction.

He’s not finished. “Ya remember the summer the brothers made that giant slip-n-slide outta black plastic, and set it up in the side yard by the playground?”

“Yeah,” I reply.

That was one fun summer. It was the summer before my senior year. The brothers took turns sliding down that thing in their boxers after they were drunk as hell. It became a sort of game for them. Take a shot, chug a beer, and slide down the massive slip-n-slide. I partook but didn’t get drunk, of course. Now that I think of it, I don’t recall Big ever participating. He’d always be standing at the sidelines in shorts, barefoot, wearing a cutoff t-shirt, drinking a beer, and seeming kinda broody. I remember Big really got pissed when Blimp threw me on his back and dove onto the slip-n-side with me using him as a human bodyboard.

“I figured ya did. Do ya remember our argument?”

Our argument? Oh, yeah…duh…‘The Argument.’ So it wasn’t so much of an argument as it was him being a control freak. During the slip-n-side, I had on my red and black cherry bikini, and let’s just say a few times my top kind of popped up during the ride. I ended up flashing the brothers. It’s not like I have something they haven’t already seen a million times before. It didn’t bother me one bit. Big got all bent out of shape and wanted me to wear his shirt. I refused. He insisted. Things got ugly when I started to yell at him, telling him no, as he was trying to force his damn shirt over my head. Next thing I knew, I was over his shoulder and carried back into the clubhouse kicking and screaming. Then he locked me in my room. Yes, I seriously mean it. I was locked in my room. He must have tied something to that handle because I couldn’t get it open. I tried. “If you won’t cover those tits, then you don’t get to play no more,” he’d ordered before leaving me to stew for hours in my room, bored, angry, and alone. Ah, those were the days.

Shaking my head, I clear my head of the past and reply, “Yes, I remember ‘The Argument.’”

“Do ya know why I locked you in your room?”

“Because I accidentally flashed my boobs.” I remove my hands from his hair and rest them on his shoulders.

“Wrong,” he blurts.

“Wrong?”

“Yeah,” he nods definitively. “You’re wrong. I did it ‘cause if you hadn’t put that fuckin’ shirt on I was gonna have you on your back, my dick in your pussy, right there in the middle of the fucking yard. You refused, and I knew my control was slippin’. So that’s when I carried ya to your room and held your door shut, as I fucked my fist right in the goddamn hallway.”

Oh, Lord!

“You’re telling me that you held my door shut and masturbated in the hall?” This can’t be true. Can it?

“That’s exactly what I’m tellin’ ya,” he affirms.

“Because my tits popped out makin’ you wanna fuck me?” I can’t hold back my skepticism. I don’t know how that’s possible. I don’t remember any noise or his dick being hard. I was kinda pissed, so maybe I missed it. But how? He’s huge.

Big thrusts his hips forward, and his erection pokes me, reminding me of its presence. He growls mischievously, “I wanted to be balls deep in ya way before I saw your tits that day. Seein’ ‘em just made me lose my shit, and the brothers starin’ at cha pissed me off. I wanted to murder ‘em for even lookin’.”

Big pauses and groans while observing me. He tears his eyes from mine and jerks his head back looking up at the ceiling, brutally yanking on his restraints. “Fuck! I’m so goddamn hard right now! See!? I’m fuckin’ sick. Just picturin’ you in that bikini, all smiles and happiness and shit, it makes me so hard.”

What in the hell is his problem?

Snarling, he roars, “Arghh!” jerking at his chains. “Don’t you see why ya shouldn’t love me? Why ya shouldn’t wanna be with me?”

I don’t see any of it! Why does he have to act this way? So what if he was attracted to me before I was of age. It wasn’t like he wanted me when I was a baby. We’re together now so it all worked out anyhow. I don’t understand this sudden anger. Especially since all those stories has me feeling all warm gooey inside as my pussy becomes wet at the thought of him jacking off to me. Let’s face it, there isn’t a woman on the planet who wouldn’t find that sexy as hell.

Comfortingly, I dust my fingers down his chest. “Big,” I calmly try to reason with him. “Big,” I repeat. He stops jerking at the chains. Thank God.

“Uh,” he grunts, breathing heavily.

“Why do you feel so bad about feelin’ that way?”

“’Cause you weren’t old enough for me to be feelin’ that way,” he grumbles in his throat, still clearly possessed with rage.

“So you feel guilty about it?” I press, softly.

“The only things in my life I ever feel guilty about involve you. Why else would I be in here?”

Only
because of me? What in the hell is he talking about? He has nothing to feel guilty over any more. He’s righted all of his wrongs. There’s nothing else to cover. Dammit! Why does he have to be so stubborn?

I ask the first question that comes to mind, “You’re tellin’ me that you don’t feel guilty for any of the other bad shit you’ve done?”

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “Unless it involved you.”

He can’t be serious.

“The stuff that didn’t involve me, you feel nothing for?”

“Nope. Not a damn thing.”

“Seriously?” I raise a brow, reading him. He’s tense but seems sincere.

“I just said that, didn’t I?” he shoots back, unamused.

“How’s that possible?” I’m not sure if I am asking him or myself.

“’Cause you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered to me…till now,” his head tips back down, and his eyes bore into mine. “Now I’ve got you and our daughter. And that’s all I need. You’re all I’m ever gonna need.”

Aww…

I slide my hands up and wrap them around his neck, pulling him down to meet my lips once more. I brush a kiss to his mouth, “You’re just too sweet. And I don’t ever want ya to feel guilty for wantin’ me before I knew I wanted you.”

“Really, Babe?” he sounds surprised. Emotional.

“Really.”

“Even if I told ya I snuck into your bedroom and jacked my dick as I watched you sleep?” he mutters gruffly.

“Did you really do that?”