Cocky Senator (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 5)(6)

By: Faleena Hopkins

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?”


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 different.

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.


“Okay then. Goodbye, Justin.”

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


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.

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