I wish he’d realize I’m not technically his old lady yet, and sucking dick doesn’t automatically mean you’re a whore. He’s got some weird messed up shit going on in his head for him to think that way. I want to ask why he came to that conclusion, but I’m not giving in. Reason or not, any woman besides me with her mouth wrapped around my man’s meat isn’t just a no, it’s a hell fuckin’, I’m-gonna-boil-your-balls-in-formaldehyde-and-murder-your-ass-you-stupid-fuckface no.
He doesn’t give me time to question his reasoning’s anyhow when he says, “My first experience with any female was with a whore.”
Now that’s news. Not really a shocker since it’s pretty common with MC brats. But still news.
“My pops had a whore suckin’ my dick from the very first time he saw me get a hard-on watchin’ him take some tramp over one of the tables in the clubhouse. It was his favorite table too. And when I became Prez, I burned that fucker to ash,” he groans, rubbing his cheek firmly to my belly, as if by doing so, he will rub those tainted memories away.
“I was eleven. He fucked that whore. She was a pretty brunette with big tits. I could see why he liked her. After he came inside her, he threw her at me and ordered her on her knees to suck my dick. I was still a fuckin’ kid, Sugar Tits,” he says sounding sad. I knew Boss Man was the biggest kind of asshole, but Big’s never talked much about him. Kind of figured it had a lot to do with trudging up painful memories. Guess my assumption was spot on.
He keeps on, “A fuckin’ kid, Sugar Tits,” he repeats, his tone dropping lower. “I didn’t even grow till I was like fourteen. I was puny and short and got picked on by my pops for bein’ the pussy bitch of a son. A son who could never amount to shit because he was a short little fucker just like his mom; that’s what he always said to me. Imagine the shock when I went from five foot four to six eight in the matter of three years. Fucker shut the hell up then. Didn’t call me names no more and started callin’ me Big Dick.” He shakes his head, “What a stupid fuckin’ name. What kind of father road names his son Big Dick? I know my name’s Richard, but damn, Big Dick?” he scoffs a sardonic laugh, “I guess I just got lucky when my cock grew when my body did. If not, I would’ve been screwed havin’ a name like this.”
Why is he telling me all this now? Why let me in more? We’ve spent the past few weeks getting to know each other, even though there isn’t much for him to know about me. He’s known me since the minute I was born. He has over twenty years of stories that he’s yet to confide in me. Not that I’ve expected him to. I could never push someone to tell me shit about their past, not unless they offered it up. I’m not a bitch, and I don’t push. We all have secrets. God knows, I fuckin’ do.
Instinctively, without even thinking, I place my palm to his upturned cheek, while keeping my eyes closed. The arms around me tighten, his palms pressing harder to my back. I remain silent except for my breathing, which has accelerated just by having him near. Even the ice that had settled around my heart from last night has started to fracture and fall away. I hate it. I hate it with everything within me. How can he manipulate me so much? Is it really manipulation though? Or is he just opening up to show he’s sorry? Does he really feel remorse? Or is this just a ploy to bring me back into the fold? I wish I knew. My heart says he’s being sincere while my head screams that he’s a lying, backstabbing asshole. I can’t decide which part of me is right. What do ya think?
Big takes a deep breath and lets it go slowly, and the heat of it washes over my exposed skin like a warm blanket. “My first fuck was the same whore who sucked my dick. She was twelve years older than me, one of Boss Man’s regulars and friends with your mother.”
I stiffen at the mention of her name. My mother, the conniving cunt. Big feels my body react and presses a faint kiss to my belly, as he rubs my lower back trying to soothe me. The bastard’s done it again, getting under my skin in the best kind of way. A way I don’t want him to be right now. I should just push him away and be done with it. It’s not going to happen though. Do ya think I’m being a complete idiot? Bet you’re nodding your head. I know I would be.
He keeps talking, “She fell in love with me after a year of sucking my dick. Then, when I was thirteen, she was ordered to fuck me. We ended up spending years together with her on her knees sucking me off, a lot of times in front of my father. He got a sick satisfaction out of watching her play with herself when she sucked his puny son’s cock.”
A shiver of revulsion travels down my spine. What a disgusting pig.
“She never complained though. She’d suck me to completion, and then he’d fuck her. Then when I got older, she’d sneak away from him to my room in the compound where we’d spend time gettin’ to know each other behind my father’s back. She’d always fuck me to forget him. Even with his come deep inside her pussy, she’d fuck me. It sickened me the way he treated her, so I let her use my body to cleanse her mind. She never even came when he fucked her; I’d seen them go at it enough to know that much. She was trash to him. Only saw her as a pussy to satisfy his fucked up needs.”
Isn’t that the same thing Big did to Linda? Used her for sex? Treated her like trash? I can’t help but wonder….
“I made her come every time ‘cause I needed to show her that all men weren’t the same. Once I hit eighteen, she suddenly disappeared. Never heard from her again. Over my teen years I still fucked other whores, but she was my constant. I didn’t love her; I just wanted to save her from the monster. He was the worst kinda prick. I hated him and couldn’t imagine havin’ to sleep with him like all those club whores,” he grumbles in his throat, disgusted.
“As I grew older and wisened up, I told myself I was never gonna do what he did to women. If they wanted to suck my cock, then fine, they were welcome to it. That’s why the rule came - if they couldn’t deep throat me, they couldn’t fuck me. I knew if those bitches wanted it bad enough, they’d do it. If not, they weren’t gonna get in my bed. I’ve never forced women into a goddamn thing. Hundreds of whores sucked my dick on their knees trying to deep throat my cock so they could fuck me. I don’t want that memory of all those other bitches in my head when I have the most beautiful fuckin’ woman in my bed. And I don’t wanna be reminded of that whore from when I was a kid and all the times she sucked me off. Whores are on their knees drinkin’ my come. It’s not a place where my old lady belongs,” he finishes.
Taken by his story, I immediately give in by wrapping my legs around him and bringing both of my hands to touch his face and shoulder, as I open my eyes.
His ice-blue beauties, heavy with sadness, lock on mine. “I know you don’t agree, Sugar Tits. And maybe it’s somethin’ I shoulda told ya sooner. But that’s the point I was tryin’ to make last night when we got to arguin’. I took it too far tryin’ to prove that whores are meant to suck my dick. You’re not. You’ve got my heart and my fuckin’ soul. You fuckin’ own me. Don’t you get that? Just lookin’ at you, pissed off and screamin’ at me with that snappy fuckin’ mouth of yours talkin’ shit, it made my dick so hard…,” he huskily groans, and turns his face into my belly, shielding himself. “I’m fuckin’ hard just thinkin’ ‘bout it,” he mutters to my belly, lips sensuously grazing skin, hot breath huffing loudly.
Holy shit, he’s turning me inside out. My clit throbs, as I suck in a shaky wanton breath. I can’t believe he is saying this shit! And what is wrong with my heart? Why is it pounding so fiercely? And why do I have this strong urge to hold him? I can’t fucking do that! I can’t console him. He did this, not me.
“I’m sorry,” he utters. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’ straight.”
Licking my lips, then biting them, I contemplate my next action. Do I forgive? What the hell do I do? I’m outta my element here. Shit.
With his head still face down, lips pressing tiny kisses to our daughter, I run my fingers through his messy hair until I reach his hair tie. I tug it out before running my fingers the rest of the way through it, smoothing out the
tangles. Big always likes to wear his hair a certain way on long rides. I used to help tie it when I was younger. It’s been years since then.
Looking back at the clock, I slump my shoulders. Only twenty more minutes until he’s going to leave me for two whole weeks. At this very moment, I have two choices - let him leave on bad terms or on good. I think I am going to try to hit somewhere in the middle.
As I run my hands through Big’s long soft hair over and over, I hear him grumble in his throat, like a beast purring.
“Let me do your hair,” I finally speak with a soft tone, ignoring how damp my pussy is or how much my body wants to lie down and let him eat me for days. I know he’d do it too.
“But I smell you,” he growls. “You smell like a ripe peach ready to be plucked, Sugar Tits.”
I bite my lip to hold back a moan. When his husky voice comes out, it makes me even wetter. Sometimes I just wish he wasn’t such a Sex God.
“Let me make you come. Let me taste you. Let me make up for all the pain I’ve caused and show you how much I love you by holdin’ out, and not comin’ again till you give me the go ahead. I can do it. It’ll be hard,” he chuckles, “literally….. But I’ll do it, for you.”
That’s sort of sweet. But why would I ever ask a man to not get off when he needs to? And by letting him touch me there and taste me, I know it is not only a treat for me, it’s a treat for him. A treat that he doesn’t deserve.
I shake my head. “No,” I blurt, knowing that any other word to come from my mouth would be shaky and display how turned on I really am.
“But you’re ready.” He tilts his head up, resting his chin on my belly. His wicked eyes dance with mischief, as his lip twitches. “You know how much I love to suck your clit,” he sinisterly teases, and I shudder at the thought. He’s so damn good at sucking my clit. It throbs between my legs at the thought. Fuck!
His voice darkens, deepening even further, “I love it when I feel your slick pussy glide across my tongue, and when I dip inside for just a taste of your sweetness. Baby, ya like it when I taste you, drinking those pussy juices and givin’ ya a deep kiss.” His tongue pokes out and mimics the swirling motion on my belly. Shhhiiitt, I might just come from him doin’ that.
“How I drive you wild when I flick your clit with my tongue and bite it, makin’ ya even wetter. Ya like that, Sugar Tits, don’t cha?”
I almost nod but quickly stop myself. He notices my hesitation and smiles knowingly. I can’t let this go on any longer, or I will end up spread eagle with his face in my pussy, playing out all of his dirty talk.
My hands tighten in his hair and yank back, pulling him from my belly. His face tightens, but he doesn’t fight it. I lean forward with a sly grin and get straight in his face, our noses almost touching, eyes boring into one another’s. “I llooovveee it,” I purr, “when you tongue my pussy, and your face gets soaked with my juices. And I love when you’re squirmin’ to fuck me and can hardly contain yourself as your pre-come soaks through your boxers and jeans, marking ‘em with a dark spot. I even loooovveeee it when I get to….” I trail off and brush my cheek across his, my lips meeting his ear. I whisper, “And I really love it when you put my legs over your shoulders as you pound my pussy with that hot fuckin’ dick.” My tongue pokes out and runs along his earlobe. I feel him tremble while he pants for air. I know damn well that the wet stain will be on the front of his jeans, like a spot of honey beckoning me to clean it up.
Pulling back, I release his hair. Big stays there, kneeling and trembling, awestruck. His eyes remain forward, as if he’s replaying my words to him. Looking down, I catch a glimpse of the stain on his jeans that pools around the bulging tip of his concealed erection. As if a light clicks on, he shakes his head and searches for my face.
“Come ‘ere,” he reaches for me, tugging me into a hug. I reciprocate, and his face goes straight into the plushness of my breasts. My hands curl around his neck, and my fingers comb through his hair. We remain silent, holding each other for a few moments. The need to come simmers in the background as I relish in the closeness. My head dips and my nose goes to his hair in a strange change of positions, as he is usually the one to sniff my hair. I inhale him, remembering his manly scent, and lock it away to remember for later when he’s gone.
“Big, you’ve gotta roll out soon. Can I do your hair before you leave?” I ask quietly, my lips in his hair.
Big hugs me harder, rolling his face into my breasts. “I can’t leave us like this,” he mutters sadly.
“Like what?”
“With you still wantin’ to leave me.”
I don’t want to leave him. Maybe I should do what Gunz suggested and rationalize this before I jump to conclusions. I can’t make a rash decision. I did that once and look where that ended up.
I offer up a compromise, “We’ll talk about it when ya get back. Even though I get part of why it happened, it doesn’t change the fact that it did. And the whole whore thing is just somthin’ you’re gonna have to get the hell over.”
He nods in my cleavage, “If ya stay with me, we can work on it together.”
That’s good enough for me, for now. I know it’s time for him to jet. Big must know it too because he releases me and reaches for his pocket. He pulls out his phone and answers it.
“Yeah?” His voice sounds strong like normal. Not depressed like it has since he walked into this room with me. “I’ll be there in ten. Get suited up, and we’ll roll out.”
He hangs up.
Pushing his phone back into his cut and getting up from the floor with an aged groan, he says, “You’ve got ten minutes to do my hair.”
I take that as my cue and run into Jezebel’s bathroom in search for hair ties and a brush. I find them in the linen closet and slide the ties around my wrist. Big’s sitting on the bed once I return. I climb on the bed behind him and rest on my knees. Combing through his hair is easier now that I’ve used my fingers. I smooth the top with the brush and drag it all the way down to the tip, making sure it’s perfect. Once tangle free, I pull his hair back to make a low ponytail, and secure it with a tie from around my wrist. Then I take the ponytail and brush through it once again. Two to three inches down from the first tie, I curl my fingers around Big’s thick hair, and use another hair tie to secure that section. I do this over and over again, in silence, until he only has an inch or two of wispy hair freely dangling from the bottom of his secured ponytail.
I kiss the back of his head when I’m finished. “Done,” I pull away.
Big runs his hand down the ponytail. “Feels good,” he states proudly.
Sliding to the side, Big reaches behind him, snagging me around the waist. I squeal as he hefts me with ease over his hip to settle me on his lap.
The steel bands of his arms encase me, pulling me to his chest. I tilt my head back to look at his face. He single dimple grins, and my heart sputters as I struggle to breathe. Big doesn’t say a word, but his hungry eyes tell me everything when they zero in on my lips. I chew the corner of my mouth with anticipation. He’s going to kiss me. Unable to control the urge, I squirm at the thought.
Seconds feel like a millennium waiting for his full lips to crash onto mine. I want to pull away and run from the room as I yell ‘You don’t deserve these lips’ to him. Except at this very moment I want nothing more than to feel the heat of his lips searing my wounds shut, making everything better.
Big moistens his bottom lip with a flick of his tongue. I watch in agonizing slow motion as he tips his head, inching his mouth closer to mine. The hotness of his breath washes over my face like silk. Feeling the hardness of his excitement press to my outer thigh, I hold back an impatient groan and close my eyes. I can’t take this any longer; this is killing me. Why is he making me wait? My clit wonders the same as the throbbing between my thighs feels like a drum pounding with each maddening beat of my heart. I’m already close to coming. How is that possible? Fuck.
Then it happens. My world halts, and a velvety-s
mooth warmth ignites in my belly, spreading to my limbs when his soft mouth caresses mine. It’s sweet, not hard. I part my lips just enough to fit his between, and we meld as one. Unable to control it any longer, I grumble a satisfied groan in my throat. He must like this because he growls in response. My body curls into this chest, and my hands find their way around his neck, holding him close.
I missed this, I think to myself. I take a deep breath through my nose, feeling too many emotions at once, and at the same time I get an extra shot of perfection assaulting my senses. His smell, that perfect manly, musky, leather, and beer smell, encasing one huge hot body is more than I can bear. He’s my undoing. I hate him and love him for it all the same.
Big’s hand slides up my back to the base of my neck. His fingers curl around my nape, keeping me still. I feel the dampness of his tongue poking out to gain entrance to my mouth. I don’t hesitate when I part my lips just a bit more for him. He growls appreciatively, taking the invite with fierce intensity, plunging his tongue inside. Our tongues whip and tangle, eliciting moans into each other’s mouths. I feel feverish, and my body coils, falling deeper under Big’s magical spell. I become lightheaded as blood races through my veins. I can’t remember a time kissing someone has ever felt so good, so right, so desperate, and all-consuming. I can’t seem to get enough. More. I need more.
I get what I desire when Big’s fingers lace through my hair. Tightening his fingers in my locks, he yanks my head back breaking our fervent kiss. I groan my frustration at the loss. Big doesn’t give me time to detest, when he dips lower to lave my neck and suck on the sensitive flesh. He bites down, and my fingers dig into the base of his neck. Lost in ecstasy, I wail a coarse moan, and my lips tremble, as my body uncontrollably shudders.
Oh God, I need him now!
“You’re so fuckin’ sweet, Sugar Tits,” Big growls in his throat, his tongue running down the length of my neck. “So fuckin’ perfect,” he nips the tiny silver scar along my jaw. “Fuckin’ cat,” he lowly grunts, sweetly kissing the same scar. I can’t believe he remembers where I got that scar from.
The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 3 (MC Chronicles #3) Page 7