Cocky Senator's Daughter: Hannah Cocker (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 8)

by Faleena Hopkins

  “I am not considering it!”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

  “Nerve?” Justin chuckles.

  “You’re very cocky.”

  “No. I’m confident.”

  “Confidence doesn’t boast itself.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You can be very confident and not be an asshole.”

  “You’re thinking about my asshole now?”

  A grin flashes on me but I quickly stifle it and force myself to be serious. “I’m thinking you are one, not about your…well, you know.” My face flushes and I glance away, wishing I knew how to get out of this.

  He whispers, “I know a janitor’s closet that locks.”

  Suddenly the image of us hidden away with cleaning products and metal shelves, fucking like animals, springs into my core.

  “Oh, you do?”

  “Yep.”

  “At every airport? In every terminal?”

  His eyes narrow with lust, loving that I’m giving him a hard time. After a second of thought he rises from his barstool with the grace of a panther, pulls out his wallet and calls to the bartender, “Can my wife and I settle the tab?”

  I whisper, “Your what?” but he ignores me.

  Glancing between us in barely masked surprise the bartender returns. Before I have time to deny our fake union, Justin tells the older gentleman, “My wife and I role play. Acting like strangers meeting at an airport keeps things interesting for us. Keeps the heat alive.”

  Salty eyebrows relax. “I might have to try that.”

  “I recommend it.”

  Glancing to me, the bartender asks, “How long have you two been married?”

  Justin waits to see what I’ll do.

  “Just under a year,” I casually smile, lifting my handbag. “But it got boring fast.”

  The bartender uncomfortably looks at Justin, but my fake-husband agrees, without missing a beat, “I’m very mundane. Can barely hold a conversation.”

  “And his skills in bed,” I add with a roll of my eyes. “Well, let’s just say they needed some help.”

  Justin’s nod is solemn. “Without my wife’s guidance I’d just lie there. Frigid and clueless.”

  The bartender has grown increasingly more uncomfortable with this much ‘honesty,’ so he hastily mutters, “I’ll be right back,” and exits to run the credit card.

  Justin helps me into my coat and then offers his hand. Taking it I step off the barstool and stand in front of him, dwarfed by his height by at least five inches even in these heels.

  With a husband’s familiarity he reaches into my coat and slips his arm around my waist, resting an open palm on the small of my back. I’m speechless while he gazes into my eyes, his fingers slowly seek out my panty line, sliding across it. My eyelids suddenly feel quite heavy.

  “Your fingers are moving lower on my back, Mr. Cocker.”

  In a deep and private voice, he returns, “I hope you’ll let them travel other places.”

  Mercy.

  Equally quietly, I inform him, “I hope you have condoms, because if you think I don’t know you must do this often, you’re mistaken.”

  He whispers, “Ribbed or deer skin?”

  “Dear God.”

  “Yes?”

  “You’re seriously unbelievable.”

  “Wait until I fuck you.”

  Shaking my head on a smile, I bite my lower lip and his heated gaze drops immediately to watch.

  “You know what’s the biggest lie we told that poor man?”

  “All of it?” he smirks.

  “That a guy like you would ever get married.”

  Something happens in Justin at this. A tornado of anger – and pain, too? – flashes across his eyes before he masks it.

  Changing the subject, he asks, “When does your plane leave?”

  “I have just over a half hour before I need to be at my gate.”

  “Me too.”

  After a few heated moments I feel my heart skip at the realization that I'm really about to go through with this naughty and extremely illicit act, and that I'm doing it with Justin Cocker of all people. With the way he's staring at me I can't help but feel desirable and even beautiful. Fairly loudly, he announces, “You know, honey, we haven’t kissed since that fight at your parent’s house last night.”

  My eyes close as he leans in.

  With expensive whiskey flavoring his lips, he kisses me softly. Shivers whisper down my throat. Justin’s tongue lightly traces the inside of my bottom lip. He moves to whisper in my ear, his voice thick, “You haven’t pulled away from me.”

  I’m breathless, barely able to speak. “I don’t want to.”

  He can never offer you anything more than hot sex.

  Remember that, Jaimie, as you follow him.

  “You don’t want to pull away?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  The bartender interrupts.

  Time to pay.

  Justin

  I’m a big fan of the jet-black hair that drapes over her shoulders in sloping waves like Veronica Lake’s. I’m also turned on by the classical coat, dress, and heels, but it’s really the way she holds herself that’s got my blood pumping. It tells me she could stroll into the stuffiest room without fear of judgment. She comes from status and money. And I can’t wait to hear her moan.

  Signing the receipt I slide my card into my wallet while she waits for me. I don’t hurry. She won’t change her mind. The chemistry between us is so strong I’m not the slightest bit surprised she accepted my invitation, though I enjoyed the witty banter and attempts at resistance. Those were entertaining. Rare, too. Usually legs just open for me. I’m getting a little tired of that tedium.

  “Thanks,” I nod to the bartender, sliding the leather-bound tab forward. I glance to the smoky-eyed beauty. “We have to catch that flight or your mom’ll be pissed.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “Must you use that word when talking about my mother?”

  “Sorry. She’ll be perturbed.” I give the bartender a wink. “Come on, dear.” I take her warm hand and feel a quick squeeze as she struggles not to laugh and give us away.

  Leading her to the janitor’s closet, a medium-sized room I learned about seven years ago when an older woman seduced me in this airport, I ask, “No carry-on?”

  “Just my purse.”

  “You’re still not going to tell me your name?”

  “Why should I?”

  My cock is extremely into this.

  Can’t. Fucking. Wait.

  I chuckle, “I knew you wanted anonymity.”

  “Oh, you’re soooooo certain of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Who else can I be certain of?”

  She can’t help but smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

  This is exactly what I need today. Senator Rothdale’s term is up. If someone good — like me — doesn’t beat him, he could be in there for another thirty years. It’s ridiculous he’s been in there that long already.

  There are no fucking term limits except for the President. Members of Congress can serve until they die. I’m going to change that.

  I’m also going to anger people when I push for the stop of full retirement and health benefits for those leeches who haven’t earned them.

  It’s ludicrous that someone can serve a two-year term, that’s it, and get full retirement for life.

  FOR LIFE.

  And free healthcare for life, too. They work two years and get free medical and dental until they die? Pretty sweet deal.

  Who made that law?

  They did.

  And someone’s got to do something about it.

  My nomination to compete against Rothdale is about to be announced. To say I’m excited would be an understatement. This is what I’ve worked tirelessly for, why I studied law and went away to Yale for college, the only time my twin brother Jason and I weren’t in the same state. I’ve k
nown since I was a child that I would be in Washington D.C. like my dad, Congressman Michael Cocker.

  There are only one hundred Senators, two per state no matter the population. Fifty states, one hundred male and female Senators.

  It’s a higher position than the U.S. Representatives, four hundred and thirty-five Congressmen, whose offices are in the south part of the Capital. Senate offices are in the north, which is where? Higher than south. We are better than them. Above them in status and location. Have I beaten my point into the ground? Let me just beat it a little harder.

  Senators confirm appointments of The Cabinet: Secretary of Defense, Education, and Homeland Security to name a few.

  We also confirm the appointments of Supreme Court judges. The most powerful judges in America must get our confirmation or they don’t get the job.

  Congressmen can’t do that.

  My father can’t do that.

  I say ‘we’ because I already see myself as a Senator before it’s even happened. That’s how you get anything you really want — envision it as already having happened. Feel it. Taste it. Savor it.

  I have.

  I will be a Senator. It’s my destiny.

  I’m not waiting another six fucking years either.

  Senator Rothdale has had his time and it’s over.

  “In here,” I tell the beauty, glancing both ways to make sure no airport employees are around. I couldn’t care less about civilian passengers and their raised eyebrows directed our way.

  “You were serious about the closet?”

  “I’d never kid about this,” I smirk, turning the metal doorknob. “Ladies first.”

  “Make an exception this time. Check to see if anyone’s in there.”

  We don’t have time for a debate so I dip inside the brightly lit room and pull her in after me. Locking the door, I shove her against it and snap off the light switch for her comfort.

  Most women prefer to be dirty in the dark.

  Burying my face in her neck I savor inhaling her perfumed skin. “Mmm, you smell great.”

  A fear of being discovered by airport personnel is mixed with lust as she tells me, “We don’t have time to get naked. We have to do it with our clothes on.”

  Running my hands down her hourglass figure I hover in front of her mouth. “No problem.”

  She bites my bottom lip. My cock snaps to full attention, straining painfully against my zipper. Gripping the back of her head I encase her mouth with mine and kiss her with the clock bearing down on us.

  Her leg hooks around my ass.

  I growl into her lips, yearning to be inside her. She grinds against my straining bulge like she can’t help herself, and I feel a hunger overpower me.

  Yes, let it be this hot.

  No innocent virgins for me.

  I want a woman who bites my lip and grinds on me without shame.

  Her hands are on mine, wrestling with the button of my pants while I pull the zipper down. “I want you,” she moans. “I want you right now.”

  “You’re gonna have me,” I groan into her lips. “But I ain’t small, gorgeous.”

  She grabs my cock and my eyes roll in back of my head as she starts stroking. “No, you’re not small, are you? Oh, I can’t wait to feel this inside me,” she breathes into my ear, licking my earlobe.

  “Fuck yes. Just like that, baby,” I groan.

  Slipping my fingers hungrily under her silk panties in a hurry I shake my head and hiss, “You’re drenched, Jaimie.”

  She freezes. “What did you just call me?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not calling you some other woman’s name.” Chuckling, I keep her leg hooked where it is while I stroke her slippery folds with the other hand. “You were drinking Jameson. I shortened it.”

  “Oh,” she frowns, unsure.

  Now I’m really amused, but I don’t want her to tell me to fuck off, so I explain for her benefit, “My cousin’s name is Jameson, and he’s a guy, so I couldn’t call you that now could I? Would ruin the moment.”

  Her chocolate eyes remain uncertain. Trying not to laugh, I assure her, “There is no woman in my life, or past, that I’m holding a torch for. Let it go.” Bringing my fingers up to my mouth, I lick them, then slide into her mouth. “Taste yourself.”

  She sucks on my fingers like a champ. Not only that but her free hand slaps the wall until she finds the light switch and boom, the lights are back on.

  Her eyes lock with mine, my fingers in her mouth, her hand on my cock.

  I almost blow right here and now.

  “Fuck this shit,” I growl, kissing her, hard. Her tongue laces with mine. Every move I make she matches. I swear to God I could kiss this woman for hours. I rummage through my pocket for a condom. Ripping it open with my teeth, I put the damn thing on in a flash while keeping my lips on hers.

  She breaks free to smile, “Not your first time.”

  “At least you know I always play it safe,” I smirk.

  “All it tells me is you don’t want children.”

  Stifling a laugh, I’m staring at her lips as I rasp, “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “Me neither.”

  My eyebrows rise up. “Really?”

  “Are you going to fuck me today or tomorrow?” Her leg wraps around me and she slides her panties to the side. My eyes fall to watch and my lips part.

  Fuck, that’s hot.

  Her showing her pussy to me.

  Inviting me in.

  Giving me access.

  “What’s your name?” I push in a little.

  Her eyes close and she gasps, “Jaimie!”

  “Okay, fine. You want it anonymous. You’ll get what you want.” I plunge into her without anymore talk. Her moan sends goosebumps down my abdomen. Our mouths collide as we fuck against the door, furious and hard until sweat beads down our temples and it’s not warm in here.

  “You’re so fucking tight, Jaimie.”

  She’s got one of those gorgeous pleasure-frowns we men love so much. “It’s because you’re so big. I’m stretched all the way. I love it. Keep going. Say something hot.”

  A grin spreads on me as I meet her eyes. “You like dirty talk?”

  “Yes!!!”

  Without missing a beat, I growl into her panting mouth, “You know what I want to do?”

  “No, what?”

  “Open this door, drag you out there and make you sit on my face right in front of everyone.”

  “Oh God,” she moans.

  “I’d grab your thighs and force your cunt down on my pointed tongue. Lick your sweet little clit until the police shouted at us to stop.”

  “Yes! Keep going!”

  Grunting, I drive harder into her and lock lips with her for a few hot seconds. “And I’d ignore them. I’d shove my tongue deeper inside you, rub my chin on your folds, have you dripping all over my face so I could taste you later.”

  “Oh God!” she moans.

  “I’d have you screaming and cumming right there in front of the whole airport, and you wouldn’t be able to hold it back.” Her moans grow higher in pitch. “I’d flip you over and fuck you as the cops stood by helpless, unsure of what to do with us.” Higher moans. “Women would cover the eyes of their husbands, but they’d keep staring. Then I’d take my cock and stick it in your ass and claim you as mine.”

  That was it for Lady Jameson. Her walls pounding on my cock now. Oh damn, so hot. She’s stifling screams and grimacing that gorgeous face like she can’t take how good it feels for me to fuck her like this. She throws her head back on the sexiest moan I’ve ever heard in my whole fucking miserable life. I explode so hard I’m not sure the condom won’t rip. Our mouths are glued together as I fuck her through our orgasms. It’s painful how good this feels.

  Until it’s over.

  Our lips separate and we stare at each other, catching our breath.

  “Wow,” she pants.

  “Yeah,” I grunt, stung a little. Confused.

  That felt diff
erent.

  Too good.

  As we gather ourselves together, dressing and adjusting things, she won’t look at me.

  I almost ask for her number. I want it. And that’s not like me at all.

  “This was fun,” she mutters, eyelashes fluttering.

  “Very.”

  “Okay then. Goodbye, Justin.”

  She opens the door and leaves me there, staring after her.

  Jaimie

  Taking my seat in First Class I rifle through my purse for earbuds, peppermint gum, a scarf to cover my legs since it’s always freezing on airplanes, and of course my copy of O Magazine. I need my Oprah fix when I fly. Shrugging my shoulders and shaking my head out, I continue the inner struggle of regaining my composure. Justin Cocker just blew me wide open.

  That was the hottest sex I’ve ever had in my life. It wasn’t his size, though I was a fan. I’ve had some good-sized penises in my day but size doesn’t matter unless you know what you’re doing with it. He knows. Oh, he knows. The way he grinded and growled while telling me that dirty story? Fuck. Wow.

  I mean, holy fuck and wow wow wow.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” a pretty flight attendant asks.

  I offer her my most practiced smile. “Yes. A double of whatever whiskey you have.”

  Her delicate eyebrows twitch up. It is noon after all. “Ice?”

  I’m smiling but my eyes are telling her not to fuck with me. “That would be lovely.”

  She gets the message and leaves to accommodate my request.

  As I slide my handbag under the seat in front of me I marvel aloud, “Why are people so fucking judgmental when they have no idea what’s going on in your life?”

  Sitting back I congratulate myself for exhibiting such restraint with Justin. If I’d stood in that room a moment longer, or walked out with him at my side, I would’ve offered him my card.

  Spending days checking my phone in hopes of a call that would never come, is not how I want to live my life.

  My eyelashes flutter to the window in search of a distraction from the replay of sexual images splashing across my mind. Down below, men are laughing while they load all of our luggage into the cargo hold. They look happy with their job, don’t they?