MC Chronicles: The Diary of Bink Cummings: Vol 5 by Bink Cummings

Author:Bink Cummings [Cummings, Bink]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-11-04T16:00:00+00:00

Christmas Eve

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

“Sugar Tits, it’s time. Hand our daughter over to Deb.” Staring off with the asshole who’s got me cornered next to the jukebox, I glare way, way, way up at the mountain I call mine. His height is a pain at times like these, as is his sex appeal. I really should’ve picked an uglier partner.

I hug Harley closer to my breast, fingers combing through her fine, baby hair. She’s asleep and has been for almost an hour. If I let her go, she might wake up. You don’t want to wake a sleeping baby. It’s not like there’s any harm in me padding around the clubhouse in striped Christmas socks, holey skinny jeans, a low-cut red shirt, and Property of cut with my child curled against my chest like I’m the most important person in the galaxy. These times are far and few between when I’m competing with a cuddly Jez, Grandpa Gunz, and Big Dick Daddy-O, who, let’s face it, has way more real estate to cuddle on than I do. Even though I got nice squishy boobs to use as pillows.

“No.” I assert my position. Out of the corner of my eye stands a patient Debbie, waiting for me to screw my head on straight and hand over my first and only born. This isn’t going to go over without a fight.

If my heart didn’t physically ache every time I’ve tried to turn my kid over to anyone, I’d be fine. I’m not that irrational. And, no, I’m not drunk. I’m stone sober. It’s just that it’s my first Christmas Eve with her and we’re bonding. Unless you’re a mother, you could never understand that connection. The physical ache you feel inside your chest when you love someone so much that you can’t bear to spend a moment away from them. And if you do, you feel like you might die. A tad dramatic? Yes. But it doesn’t make it any less true. I just need a little longer. Another hour maybe. Two at most. Then I’ll be ready to let her go. Today was too magical to break the spell quite yet.

Big bends to my height, steps too close and snags eye contact. “We. Agreed.”

I take everything I said to him back. All of it.

If looks could kill, Big would have holes lasered through the center of his weirdly attractive pupils all the way through the back of his skull. “We didn’t agree on shit,” I lie.

Treating me like Pretzel when he doesn’t obey, Big bops me on the tip of my nose. In turn, I try to bite that finger off with a vicious snarl. I’m slow, but he knows the intent, and that message is powerful enough. “Surrender our daughter to Debbie. Now. Babe. Please. She has already taken all the other kids back to Jez’s for the night. It’s past nine. No more children are allowed in the clubhouse. It’s adult time.”

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Best. Excuse. Ever. It’s not

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