Free Read Novels Online Home

Cocky By Association (Cocker Brothers, The Cocky Series Book 14) by Faleena Hopkins (37)

Chapter 40

ERIC

Grabbing the handles I hike my chin in thanks and head off.

Mott fakes concern and he’s a terrible actor. “Cocker, will she ever forget you, man? You got her wrapped around your pinky-sized dick, dontcha?”

Loads of snickering from the team. I hand off the pitchers and announce with a laugh, “First of all, you all know I’m hung like a horse because all of you have blown me. And second if you hadn’t been such a pinky-sized dick in the first place, Mott, she would have been more receptive and your throats wouldn’t be as dry as you made her.”

The guys hoot, the nearby ones shoving Mott’s huge body.

He snickers, “Yeah, right,” announcing louder, “Cocker is losing his touch! Undefeated with women no more!”

With my glance flicking to the waitress I smirk, “Just watch. I’ll break her down.”

Tony throws a thick arm around a girl named Bethany, a dirty-blonde with man-made breasts, heels and a spray tan. She’s looking at me like she’d switch sides if I crooked my finger. He doesn’t know this, and if he did, probably wouldn’t care. This is not his future wife. But he’s got the grin of a man who’s going to get laid as he challenges me, “Bet you money you won’t be able to get her!”

Pouring into my mug I eye him. “When the most careful wallet on the team wants to bet me, I know something is up.”

Grunts of agreement from other Falcons.

Tony smirks, confessing why he’s so sure he’d win. “I know her.”

“Yeah? What do you know.” It’s more challenge than question as I take a soothing gulp of local craft brew.

“Had a couple classes with her in college. Those legs are closed, my friend. Even your slick moves won’t loosen that vise. She doesn’t like jocks. Goes for musician, hipster types. Skinny jeans, tats, eyeliner, the works.”

Rhami mutters in a voice for our group’s ears only, “Guess she likes to be the man in the relationship.”

Lots of chuckles travel ‘round, but me, I’m even more curious about this girl now. Is what Tony says, true? She likes weak men? The spark in those eyes didn’t say that to me. And those curves are craving hands that know how to make them shudder with pleasure. I believe women—no matter how strong in spirit and in public life—want a masculine touch in the bedroom.

Hell, my sister…perfect example. Never thought I’d see her with who she picked, but her choice serves my theory. And my cousin Hannah married an MMA fighter after all the pussies she tried to muster excitement for. And now she does everything to keep him excited. Never seen her happier, and don’t think I ever could.

As my gaze follows the waitress back to the service station, tray thirsty for a refill, her eyes haven’t flit my way once. They stayed focused on her goal. And I just found mine.

Bet she doesn’t like jocks because of the stereotype that we’re dumb. When her mind opens, so might her legs. I’m half-hard just thinking about it.

I’m going to melt that icicle.

Tony sees my interest, charcoal eyes glinting. “Thousand bucks says that she won’t catch your throw.”

The boys all whoop and howl.

Sarcastically I smirk, “Yeah right.”

Mott, Tony, Dion, Rhami, and all the others grin, holding up their mugs. I think it’s to the joke so mine is raised, too, but when Mott says, “To Cocker losing,” I scan their faces.

“You really think this is happening, and I’d lose?” Scanning the group I see the girls temporarily attached to my teammates, for the first time noticing how interested in this bet they really are. So I touch my chest. “Ladies, sorry you have to witness our debauchery. We’re a bunch of horny primates. And while I’m at it, would any of you care to switch over to my side?” Holding out my arms in invitation I glance to my crotch and smirk, “Rumors are all true.”

While the girls consider it, the Falcons yell, “No fuckin’ way!”

“Cocker, you asshole!”

Tony mutters an irritated, “Don’t listen to him, Bethany, I’ll show you a good time.”

On a shrug I drop it. “You know I could. I know I could. That’s all I’m saying.”

Mott grumbles, “Horse Dick.”

From behind my mug I grin, “Ah, don’t pout. You’re bigger than average.”