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

By: Faleena Hopkins

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.


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 known 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.”

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