MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings Vols 1-5 Complete Series Set Page 8

  “I’m Viper,” he introduces himself, giving my ass a harder squeeze, firing me a naughty spark of promise from his hazel eyes. His smile widens, and he licks his pierced bottom lip, the metal shines just right, as the sun hits it. Goosebumps flare across my skin, and I find myself at a loss for words as I keep chewing on my carrot, with purpose.

  Swallowing hard, I turn and face him. His body steps forward to meet mine. My pulse skyrockets and my pussy dampens when I feel the thickness of his hard cock press into my belly through his jeans. Vipers hand slips into the back pocket of my cutoff shorts, possessively holding me to him.

  “What’s your name, sugar?” His voice is smooth like melted chocolate.

  I want to fuck him. There are no bones about it. I want to climb his six-foot frame and tug that lip piercing with my teeth. Fuckin’ A, it’s been far too long since I’ve had a dick slamming into me.

  “My…” I blink and swallow down my raising nerves. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this tongue-tied when meeting a guy. “My name is—”

  A thunderous growl echoes in the courtyard, forcing my heart to leap into my throat. I freeze, my eyes widening as the entire lawn goes mute, including the joyful sounds of the children playing.

  “You.” I hear Big Dick’s words loud and clear. I tightly close my eyes, wishing this moment away.

  “Me?” Viper asks, surprised. He’s yet to take his hand out of my pocket.

  “Who in the hell do you think I’m talking to dumb-fuck?” Big replies, growing angrier by the second. I can hear the edge of malice in his words. The edge that tells me he’s about to pull his gun. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know him as well as I do.

  “Let go of Bink,” I hear somebody whisper. Only Viper does the opposite, he grinds his erection harder into my stomach. I groan lightly in my throat, as the walls of my pussy pulse their reply to his blunt attraction.

  I have a serious problem. This shouldn’t be turning me on.

  “What can I help you with, Prez?” Viper inquires with an air of cockiness.

  An even deeper growl erupts from behind me as the sounds of boots stomping across the solid ground close in. I silently pray—Dear God, please don’t let Viper die. Please let this end on good terms.

  Thick fingers painfully dig into my hip bones and yank me backward out of Viper’s grasp and into a massive wall of flesh and hardened bones. Those same arms wrap around me, enveloping me. My plate drops to the ground at my feet, spilling food onto the lawn. I pry my eyes open to see Viper staring at me, confused, and a little hurt. I don’t have to turn around to know, I don’t have to even look to know who’s holding me. Whose arms are securing my body to his. I can smell him. I can feel his warmth seeping into my back. I can hear the deep rumbling of fury, like rocks violently battling in his chest.

  “This,” Big hugs me tighter. “This woman is off limits.” He booms like a vicious beast, heaving for breath. Viper’s eyes nearly bug out of his head in fear. Big’s scary as hell, I’ll give him that.

  “But…she’s not wear…ing a property cut, Prez, I’m… I’m…sorry, I didn’t know,” Viper trips over his words.

  “She doesn’t need a property cut. Everybody knows who the fuck she is. Every motherfuckin’ brother knows her pussy is off limits. And just so we are crystal fuckin’ clear, so are her lips, her ass, her tits, and her time. Unless you want me to beat you to death, piss on your corpse, and dump your body in the river, then I suggest you apologize for groping our queen and pissing off your president, before I sic Tripper and Gunz on you, then when they’re done, I’ll take my turn.” Big pauses briefly and takes in a deep breath. “Get on your knees,” he malevolently orders Viper.

  My mouth falls open as Viper doesn’t even hesitate to drop to his knees before us, spewing a fumbled paragraph of apologies. I could give two shits and a fuck. This is beyond stupid. The longer Viper kneels and apologizes the more irate I become, no longer paying attention to the sad display of a pissing contest. I’m an unclaimed woman for cryin’ out loud. I don’t see the boys treating Big Dick like shit for bringing Linda around, even though he promised she’d never be allowed back. I don’t see them defending me when their Prez murdered my dog. Why do I put up with this stupid shit? Why do I sit back and let the control freak determine what I can and can’t do with my life? Why am I not allowed to fuck or date or do anything with a brother? My mother grew up in this club, and she was allowed to marry my daddy. She wasn’t forbidden to date brothers. Why am I? Why does it fucking matter who I date or fuck? I’m thirty, I’m single, and I am sick and tired of being protected from shit I don’t need protecting from; for instance, people like Viper.

  “Bink.” Big shakes me and turns me around to face him.

  “Fuck off,” I snarl at him and hear the women gasp.

  “Excuse me?” He smirks, clearly amused with my outburst.

  “You heard me. Fuck. Off,” I enunciate, glaring at him.

  “What’s your problem?” he asks in a hushed tone, reaching down and grabbing my wrists. I wince, screwing my eyes shut in agony, wrenching them away.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, as I take in a few deep breaths and inspect my burn. I knew it; he popped the blister that had formed, and the fluid is running down my arm. My wrist feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, Bink, I’m sorry. I forgot. Let’s get you inside. I laid the Band-Aids out on my desk and everything. Shit... I’m really sorry.” Sympathetically, he grabs hold of my shoulder, and I jerk away from him.

  “You’ve done enough.”

  “Shit… Come on…Sugar Tits…please let me—”

  “Is that what you call her?” I cut him off, frowning deeply, looking up at his face.

  Big mechanically scrubs the stubble on his chin. “Call who? What?” His brows knit together in confusion.

  “Your woman, Linda. Is that her nickname? Sugar Tits?”

  “No,” he snaps. “Why in the hell would I call her that?”

  “No, the better question is why would you call me that? And, it wouldn’t surprise me one damn bit, if you called her that.” I forcefully poke his chest with two fingers. “Considering she was here this morning, sucking your dick, and fucking you in the clubhouse. The place I was told she’d never be allowed in ever again. Then you show this piss poor display of bullshit about me not being allowed to fuck a brother. I used to understand why. Now I don’t anymore. Why in the hell should it matter when you break your promises all the time? Lead by example, Big.” I pause to gather my thoughts. “First…” I hold up a one, using my pointer finger. “You kill Pretzel and then a few days later are sleeping with the enemy. Then Viper’s the first man in a month to give me any attention, and I’m not allowed to fuck him. Why is it alright for you to do whatever the hell your controlling ass wants to, and I get left with nothing? Not a goddamn thing. I am not an old lady. Couldn’t be, even if I wanted to.” I take a deep breath and continue.

  “I’m expected to cook for your picnics, to be at your beck and call, and for what? To show appreciation that you helped raise me when my stupid ass mother decided I wasn’t worth a lick of her time? I do appreciate that. I’ve shown that for years. Doing things that no other old lady or club whore does. Except I’m not even officially a part of this club, am I? If I were, I would have been able to settle down years ago with a brother instead of wasting my time with half-wit wannabe bikers. Do I want to have an old man who fucks other women? No. But some of them don’t. Tripper has always been faithful to Candy Cane.” I glance over to her watching this terrible display of my emotional vomit, and she nods at me, with a half-smile, running her hands through her bright red hair.

  “Your controlling he-man complex is giving me whiplash. I get that you think of me as a daughter of sorts. But a father wouldn’t murder his daughter’s puppy.”

  Big firmly shakes his head. “Ya done?”

  I nod.

  “Good…and I didn’t kill your fuckin’ dog,” he grumbles.

  “What?”


  “You heard me. I didn’t kill Pretzel. You pissed me off like you always do, so I fibbed and sent him to North Dakota to get further training that Tripper doesn’t have time to teach. He’ll be back in three weeks. You need a guard dog that obeys, and he wasn’t cuttin’ it. He will once he gets back.”

  “You—”

  With the wave of his hand and a stern look, he shuts me up. “Quiet,” he demands. “I’m not done... You want to have all this shit out in front of the club? Then they’re going to hear my side, too. First off…” He holds up a number one, mocking me by flipping me the bird, his S.S skull ring on his middle finger emphasizing his point.

  “You may not be part of this club because you aren’t claimed as an old lady. But the men in this club see you as one of us, more so than any other female. True?” He waves his hands around to the men and they all nod, muttering ‘true’ under their breaths. “See? So that shit has got to stop. No more, ‘I’m not part of the club’ bullshit. Ya got me? It’s gettin’ old.”

  I nod solemnly, like a dog with a tail between his legs.

  “Now, the Linda thing is none of your damn business. If I wanted to fuck her wet pink pussy in front of you, that’s still none of your fucking business. You ain’t my old lady, and if you were, I would expect you to show me more respect than you are right now. I am the president of this club. If you can’t respect that, if you can’t hold your mouthy little tongue and shut the fuck up, then you can walk.” He points to the road, and tears form in my eyes, my bottom lip quivering.

  “You can get your ass in your pink bitch car and drive the hell outta here. I’ve taken care of you and protected you since you were born. But I won’t stand by and let you disrespect me, the brothers, or this club. No matter how important you are to me. You questioning me and acting like a little bitch ain’t gonna to fly. No way, no how. So you make the choice. Stay here, teach the new old ladies the rules and ropes of our home.” His hand cups my chin and forces me to look him in the eyes. “Our home, Bink.” His voice softens, and a tear breaks free from my watery eyes. Big swipes it away with his thumb.

  “This is our home, yours and mine and the rest of the brothers. Now let this shit go. Let’s move on. Forget becoming an old lady. I made that rule because there could never be a brother that me, Tripper, Gunz, Jizz, Brew, or your pops would approve of to marry you. Shit outside of the club we may not like, but we hold little jurisdiction. Here, in our home, your home, I’m the president, and you’re our queen. Get used to it, and quit your bellyaching.” I nod, and he lets go of my face and bends down from his six foot eight frame to kiss my cheek. His lips brush over my skin and run until he meets the shell of my ear.

  “This is our home, Sugar Tits, remember that. And I’m sorry I had to sound like an asshole, but you’re pushing my fuckin’ buttons, like always. Linda won’t be back, I can assure you. Now do me a solid and quit cryin, you’re killin’ me with those tears. Pull up your big girl panties and turn back into the hardened badass I know you to be and show those old ladies the ropes. I’m getting’ the Band-Aids to fix up your wrist,” he whispers in my ear, kisses my cheek once more and stands up, flashing me the biggest ear-to-ear smile, dimple and all.

  “Yeah?” His hands rest on my shoulders, his eyes boring into mine, etched with a firm resolve.

  “Yeah.” I nod and head over to the table where the new old ladies sit. Probably bored out of their ever-lovin' mind, while Big yells, “Shows over, time to get drunk,” and disappears into the clubhouse, a fresh bottle of Bud clutched in his hand.

  Candy Cane comes to stand beside me as I stand before the group of three old ladies, all of them distinctively different in appearances.

  “Sorry about the show,” I mutter as Candy Cane sits down at the picnic table beside a miniature woman, who is sleeved in tattoos up one arm and down the other. I can’t see the rest of her body, but if I’d have to guess, she’s probably covered head to toe with some beautiful pieces of art.

  “Here.” Big Dick returns, touching my arm, “I told you I’d bring them.” He flashes an opened rainbow Band-Aid, and I smile sweetly at him. My guilt for lashing out at him begins to eat at my insides. I hate that I was so mean, especially now that I know Pretzel isn’t dead and will be home soon.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, watching his clumsy fingers try to place the colorful bandage over my burn.

  Shaking his head, he diligently works on completing the task. I know I could interfere, but it’s cute watching him try so hard. Plus, if I tried to help it would be a straight shot to his manhood. “It’s water under the bridge. I knew it was coming. Shitty timing, but I shoulda told you Pretzel was alive last night when we talked.” He pulls away, letting my newly bandaged wrist fall to my side, and with a smile animatedly dusts his hands off in front of him. “Piece of cake,” he snickers.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Big nods to Gunz using the strange ESP connection he and his Sergeant of Arms share.

  “Ladies.” Big steps up to the picnic table, and I watch all of the women take him in. He’s huge, so it takes a minute. I’ve seen this happen time and time again, and I find it amusing that women, even though they have an old man, always seem to look at Big like he’s a piece of meat that they want to take a bite out of. He has that fine wine trait, where he gets better with age. His hair doesn’t show an ounce of gray, even though his fiftieth birthday is just around the corner. The fine lines around his eyes make him appear more distinguished, yet his soulful ice-blue irises reel the women in by the boatload. Probably doesn’t hurt that he’s as tall as the Eiffel Tower and built like a brick shithouse. His status as club president is just the icing on the cake for most women. Too bad all those ladies who openly stare and drool don’t know how much of a complex pain in the ass he really is. They just care to see if he lives up to his name, which he always does. The stories are legendary. And all of it makes me want to roll my eyes and slap a bitch for being so transparently stupid.

  “Prez.” Gunz flanks my left side and three more men in leather cuts and jeans stand beside him.

  “Ladies, this is Bink, I’m Big Dick, and this is Gunz, my Sergeant of Arms.” Big runs down the line pointing to each of us in turn, including himself. The women listen intently.

  “Bink, these are the old ladies we are looking to join our chapter. And those…,” He nods toward the men planted next to Gunz. “are the brothers.”

  He points to the medium built, heavily tattooed brother with his labret pierced. “That man is Axel.”

  Axel raises his hand saying, “Hey,” with a thick southern accent.

  “That’s Pixie, his old lady.” Big points to the heavily tattooed girl that Candy Cane sat down beside. I should have put two and two together.

  “Hi,” Pixie says faintly, tucking a short, errant strand of blue hair behind her ear.

  “Hi,” I reply back with a genuine smile.

  “That’s Bulk.” Big continues, pointing to a large man with a barrel chest, full beard, and bald head. “And that’s his old lady Jezebel.”

  I chuckle at her name.

  “Yep, that’s me. I’m an escort and proud of it. Ain’t no secret this pussy likes to be fucked, ten ways from Tuesday,” Jezebel loudly states in her mild southern accent, standing up from the picnic table, with an obvious baby bump protruding from her belly. There’s a quality about this woman that I like. She’s clearly a confident, curvy, plus-sized woman, with giant knockers, long wavy brown hair and is wearing fishnet stocking under a short red miniskirt. She’s clearly oblivious to the fact that she is carrying a baby.

  “Sit down,” her man growls.

  She listens, but not before she flips her hair over her shoulder with a calculated smile and cradles the baby bump in front of her. Yep, she’s a sassy woman. I am definitely going to like her.

  The final man he introduces us to is Mirk and his old lady Chelsea, the woman who can’t knock the disgusted look off her face for even a moment. This is not a place for her, I can tell. No
t sure how she became an old lady, but her attitude is palpable and I don’t like it one bit. Candy Cane meets my eyes for a moment and then sweeps her eyes over to Chelsea, as if she’s communicating with me the same shit I’m already thinking. This bitch isn’t cut out for our lifestyle and surely not our tight-knit club.

  I shake all the brothers’ hands and Axel even kisses the top of mine, before Big and Gunz pat me reassuringly on the shoulder and head toward the fire pit to drink themselves into oblivion, leaving Candy Cane and I to get down to brass tacks. Debbie is sitting out on this one as she plays mother hen to the children, keeping them away from the weed and alcohol.

  I walk over to the side where Jezebel and Chelsea sit and I press myself between them, plopping down on the wooden bench. Jezebel seems rather comfortable to be seated next to me. Chelsea is not; she scoots to the edge of the bench to distance herself. Another sign to tell me she’s not Original Chapter material.

  “So…” I rest my elbows on the table, wringing my hands together in front of me. “I know y’all are here because your old man is wanting to relocate and transfer to our chapter of the Sacred Sinners. You might not like it, but it’s the duty as an old lady to follow your old man’s orders. Candy Cane and I are going to go down some basics with you all and show you the compound, which is where you will live, should your old man get chosen to transfer. Big only accepts the best of the best, and that is a compliment paid to you and your family, should you be inducted into our chapter,” I explain.

  “What you’re telling me is that a woman who isn’t even an old lady is going to give me advice on how to be one?” Chelsea scoffs.

  “Bitch.” Jezebel leans forward, staring hatefully down the table at Chelsea. “If you paid any attention to the throwdown between the president and Bink, you’d understand that she is above us. If you don’t want the attitude that you clearly have to reflect poorly on your old man, then I suggest you show her a little respect.” Jezebel finishes and folds her hands in front of her on the table. “Please continue.” She playfully bumps her shoulder with mine, a knowing smile spread across her face. She’s already one of us.