Tonk Jr. (Cocker Brothers Book 19)

by Faleena Hopkins

  TONK JR.

  COCKER BROTHERS BOOK 19

  FALEENA HOPKINS

  CONTENTS

  TONK JR. Book 19

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Cocker EXTRAS

  About the Author

  TONK JR. BOOK 19

  “This whole series speaks to me of a very loving, caring, especially ascetic family who put their love out there for all to see and reap the benefit of regularly. That sounds like an awesome way to be. Great stories and characters!”

  — DebbieKay1022

  PROLOGUE

  She’s making a banana, kale, apple, and spinach smoothie for her new breakfast diet plan. She just explained how delicious it is when you add fresh ginger. Before she hits the blender, Mom asks, “How are you, honey?”

  Shaking on our bathroom toilet, I hold the phone loosely to my ear and glance over to tears streaming down my face in the long mirror’s reflection. I’m in black sweats and a white tank top, my feet pigeon-toed, back hunched. “I’m good.”

  “Are you juicing or doing anything like that?”

  “No, but…I’m thinking about cutting out some things.”

  “Oh, you should! It’s nice to clean up your digestive tract—give your body a break now and then. How’s Vic? Things still going great after you moved in together?”

  My gaze drifts right again, and I stare at the bruises on my neck from where he choked me last night until I nearly blacked out. “He’s fine.”

  “Just fine?”

  “He hates his job.”

  “Well, tell him there are more out there. Keep searching until he’s happy.”

  I mutter, “Uh huh,” wiping my eyes and wincing from the bruise on my fingers I got from trying to pull his off of me.

  I love you, Vic. You’re hurting me! Stop! You’re going to kill me if you don’t stop! Please! I love you!

  “Your father and I were just last night wondering if you two were coming to visit us sometime soon.”

  “I don’t think so, Mom.”

  “Mmm, this is so good. I wish you were here so you could try this.”

  Fresh tears burn my eyes as I close them. “I wish I was there, too.”

  “Well, let’s talk about that diet. What were you thinking of cutting out? I have to say, I feel so much better now that I cut out dairy. I can’t tell you how bloated I was and didn’t know it! I lost ten pounds! Can you believe that?” She laughs and says, “But enough about me, what were you going to cut out?”

  “Coffee,” I whisper, glancing to the mirror as I hold up the stick with the pink plus symbol. “Mom, I’m pregnant.”

  CHAPTER 1

  T ONK JR.

  I murmur against her clavicle, “Can I see you after class?” as we fuck on the smooth silver desk the Psychology Department gave her when she was hired. Glad the edges are rounded otherwise we’d be bruised now.

  Fisting my hair, a smile flashes on her orgasmic face at the reminder of how we got this deep into a…conversation.

  “This isn’t what I had in mind,” she smirks.

  That might be true.

  I did seduce her.

  I blame my base animal instincts and the fact that I’m becoming the man I really am, lately.

  When I see something I want, I go for it.

  As my hips move in a slow rhythmic motion, Professor Miller’s breath hitches, eyelashes fluttering closed as she winces in pleasure. “Yes!”

  Her mouth goes soft and her pitch rises, volume low so we don’t draw attention from students outside that locked door.

  Every moan she makes is breathy, sensual music to my ears, no matter how loud. She could just make those faces and I’d be golden.

  “I was just going to discuss your assignment on the mindset of men and women in the early 1900’s versus now,” she moans, throwing her head back and letting me have my way. “You got an A. Great job.”

  Diving deeply into her sweet, wet pussy a few times I groan, “This is my thank you for appreciating my effort.”

  She locks eyes with me, grabs me by the hair. “Look, if you were just a kid out of high school I would never have—”

  “—Allowed me to seduce you?”

  She bites back a moan, lips quivering as she glances to the door, checking to make absolutely sure once more that I locked it.

  I did. I’m a gentleman.

  “Tonk, how did you get to be so….oh!!!”

  “—Good at this?” She moans as my cock rises to the compliment. “I’ve read a lot, Professor Miller. About women’s bodies. What makes you tick. I gleaned from them that you want me to take control, if the attraction is mutual.” I give her slickness a few long strokes before I groan and continue, “Human beings have evolved, but some things haven’t yet and may never change. Men want to protect women they care about. And when it comes to sex and procreation, women want men to dominate them and show they can protect the cave we can’t get out of our psyches. Hot fucking demands that we honor our biological needs.” I hold still a minute at the deepest part of her, panting to catch my breath. “If a man displays his power it implies he can protect not only you but your future children from other cavemen.” I chew on her lip as my length thickens against shuddering walls. “It’s all about balance, Professor, which is the problem in this modern world. You’re a feminist. I can tell. You walk like you have something to prove. You want to be taken seriously and yet you want to be fucked right. Just like this. And this. And this.”

  She whimpers and slams her mouth onto mine, our tongues licking each other for the duration of a few hot strokes.

  I break free, panting, “And you’re allowing me to slam my hard dick inside you because you’re still in power as my professor. You could fail me in class. I’m at your mercy, not the other way around. So when I sat back in that chair and spread my legs, my hand near my crotch, looking at you with lust in my eyes, you didn’t mind giving up a little control since you had so much already.”

  Pulling out I flip her around, yank the falling skirt back up before it drifts to hide her nice, round ass. Admiring it, I slide my cock in. “Yes!”

  I’m not sure if she meant that for my argument or…

  Doesn’t matter.

  I’ll let the mystery lie.

  She writhes, grips papers on her desk, crumpling them as her pussy tightens around my length.

  So hard to hold my orgasm back, especially when I close my eyes and imagine what it must be like to be her, filled by the forbidden: a college student who showed up at one of the best colleges in Manhattan, mid-twenties, no prior formal education, home-schooled, yet more well-read than anyone in her class.

  A man who raises his hand with interesting questions, actually pays attention, and asks if there’s any bonus work he can do.

  A man who told her without fear after he was summoned, something that made her eyelids go heavy with need.

  I want you.

  I won’t tell anyone if you say…

  “Yes!” she cries out, body tensing as she nears the edge. I reach around her bouncing hips and cup her pussy lightly, just enough to let her clit know I’m here.

  If I were to touch it directly at this point, ecstasy might not break free.

  We’d start at square one, striving to release her inhibitions.

  While I’m all for elongating this, I’m supposed to be having lunch with my buddy Allen who’s probabl
y wondering where the fuck I am right now.

  “That’s right,” I grunt as she pulses with promise. “Give me that sweet pussy, Professor Miller. Give me it all. I want you cumming on my cock. I need to sit in class tomorrow knowing what your sweet honey feels like.”

  She shudders in hot pulses as she bites her moans back in an effort to be quiet.

  I grit my teeth as I become so hard, longing to fill her up. Holding my future kids at bay, I shake my head at how ridiculously great it feels to fuck.

  No matter how much I evaluate it, overthink it, fucking just feels damn good.

  As she starts melting, body relaxing in the aftermath, I pull out and take a gander at my slippery shaft. It’s the color of cabernet wine. “You want a taste?”

  She drops to her knees, much to my surprise, and starts lapping. She’s eager, not talented. A lot of women don’t realize you make love to a cock the same way we do to your pussies. Enjoy it—that’s where the fun is.

  But I’m so close, she could bite it and I’d cum.

  I throw my head back, fisting her hair but with no pressure. No need to gag the woman for giving me a gift.

  I wince as the hot burn tightens in my core.

  Research shows that these add to a healthy body.

  Some even say younger skin.

  Orgasms.

  Great feeling and good for you, too.

  I shoot my heat, circling my hips. As she smiles, swallows, and wipes her lips, I catch my breath and smirk, “You get an A, Professor.”

  “I thought you’d like that.”

  “Oh, I more than liked it.”

  “This can’t happen again.”

  “I know. Could get complicated.” Pulling my pants up, I drag satisfied fingers through my dark brown hair and take a couple deep breaths to relish the zing in my bloodstream. “If you ever wear that dress again, just know that I’ll be thinking of how I pulled it up.”

  “Deal,” she chuckles while adjusting the hem, but the laugh wasn’t light hearted. It was tinged with approaching shame.

  Fuck that.

  Cupping her chin I hold her gaze. “Enjoy what we just had. Never worry about me breathing a word to a soul about this. I’m a man of honor. You’re safe. You’re ravished. You were mine for this moment and I was yours. Now we’ll go on about our lives. This was part of our ride.”

  She’s frowning at me. “You look at me like I’m beautiful.”

  “You’re a woman aren’t you?”

  Our lips touch for a moment. Nothing special. Nothing earned. I look at the clock, grab my backpack.

  “Nobody has ever called me…”

  I pause, waiting for her unfinished thought. “Beautiful?”

  “Yes.”

  Slinging my pack onto one shoulder, I stretch my neck. “Why do you think I kept my glasses on? I needed to drink you in. Couldn’t miss a second of your beauty. But I know what you’re thinking. You’re trying to live by society’s perceived standards and that’s hard to shake. I get it, Professor, I do. Where I was raised I didn’t fit in with the people who loved me, who shared one huge space. There were twenty or so at any given time, and I was different. You know what I learned? We have not just one thing, but many things that make us beautiful, unique, important. You’re not supposed to look like everyone else, Professor. You’re supposed to be you. When you embrace that and smile, that’s when you are who you really are. And trust me, when you’re teaching that class, I have seen you shine. On that note, I must say farewell. My friend Allen is wondering where I am.”

  “Mr. Lewis!”

  Cocking an eyebrow I push my glasses up. “Yes?”

  “Thank you.”

  I flash her a smile, holding her eyes. “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 2

  T ONK JR.

  I wash up in the mens room and check my hair. Through the swarm of students I make good time, bending and weaving until I burst outside the humid corridor into a stunning spring day.

  So glad the cold is behind us.

  New York City’s weather bears no similarities to South Vacherie, Louisiana’s. When I moved here everything changed—that’s what I willingly signed up for.

  While I love my family, and that includes all who live at our ancient and decaying plantation, I’m invigorated by freedom.

  With nobody judging me, or worrying about why I’m so fucking different from them, I’m finally staking a claim on my own as a man.

  But snow can kiss my collegiate ass.

  “Tonk Jr.! Over here!” Allen calls from the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 119th Street, rising from petting a dog who wanted some love in the middle of his afternoon walk. The smiling owner guides the pooch onward.

  They pass a female, dark hair and skin golden like mine. She caught my attention because I was watching that happy tail wag, and keeps it as her sandal strap breaks, hanging below her ankle.

  Bending to fix it, her bag slides from her shoulder to the sidewalk, minimal contents scattering. Shaking, her hands leave the bar of a modest baby stroller that’s faced away from me.

  She’s about to burst into tears so I hurry over, help gather the items, reaching long to swipe a rolling ballpoint from being crushed by pedestrians.

  She freezes in place. “His pen!”

  With a reassuring smile, I hand it over, “Here ya go. No worries. Not a scratch.”

  Flustered, she inspects it, pretty lips open with worry. Okay, my curiosity is piqued. Who is this guy, so important that if his pen gets lost, she’s that scared?

  “I think that’s all of it.”

  She blinks up at me and something punches the inside of my chest. I clear my throat, confused as we stare at each other.

  “Tonk Jr., you tardy bastard, you gonna keep me waiting all day?”

  Punctured by Allen’s summons, our puzzling connection disappears.

  Her gaze drops, pillowy arms hugging her bag to her cotton shirt. The motion tugs the sleeve up a little and I spot the round outline of a dark bruise above her wrist. “Excuse me,” she whispers, hurrying off.

  My frown follows her as I stroll to my pseudo-annoyed friend. “Well hello.”

  “Hey Allen, sorry I’m late.”

  “Say it like you mean it,” he chuckles.

  He and I stand together watching the quiet cutie push that stroller farther away from me as she leans over to talk to the baby I never saw. Rising up she continues her path north.

  “Huh,” I mutter.

  “You know her?”

  “No. But her head is down when she walks. Kind of hunched, too.”

  “Dude. We’re not in class right now. Drop the psychology.”

  I flick him a glance and hold. “That’s why I’m here. It’s what I live for.”

  He blinks, grins and smacks my back, guiding me toward Morningside Park where some friends are waiting for us. More his friends than mine, but I do like the people. They’re not big thinkers, but there’s nothing wrong with them either. It should be fun.

  But still…

  “Tonk! Where are you going?!”

  “Hang on a sec!” I shout over my shoulder while I sprint faster than I ever have. “I must know!”

  “Dude!”

  No dude. There is no dude here.

  I’m a man of insatiable curiosity.

  But you can’t really yell that.

  ‘Hey man of insatiable curiosity!’

  Doesn’t have the same ring to it.

  However, if he’d yelled it, I might have fallen in love with him.

  “Give me a second, Allen! Just hang on!”

  As I get closer to her I slow. She doesn’t look back, a mistake. If someone’s running at you, look and prepare to react—dodge them, duck, run, kick, or just check to make sure they mean no harm.

  Knowledge is power in so many ways.

  These are things I was taught being raised with bikers who roam the states fighting the battles of the innocent.

  She’s safe with me sprinting up like this
, though. I’d never hurt her. I’d never hurt anyone. It’s why I’m such a disappointment to my dad, Tonk Sr.

  A biker got a brainiac for a son.

  “Hey, uh, it’s me, the man who helped you pick up your things.”

  She glances over, surprised and relieved. She heard me coming and was worried. “Yes?” Eyelashes drop to my hands.

  “Oh, I didn’t find anything else of yours. I ran after you because I realized I never got your name?”

  “Stacy.”

  Offering my hand with a smile, I cautiously introduce myself like I’m making friends with a deer. “Tonk Jr. Lewis, nice to meet you. Do you work around here?”

  Unsure, she glances toward the baby. “Um…I’m with someone.”

  “I see that.”

  A smile tugs at my joke. “Not her. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Didn’t see a wedding ring. Thought I’d take a chance.”

  Stacy holds my eyes. Am I incorrect, or does she wish she were single right now?

  On a shrug I drag my hair back, smiling in a friendly way, “Is it serious?”

  Walnut-brown eyes twinkle as she tries to stop her smile from taking hold. “You’re persistent.”

  “When I’m interested, yes. What man isn’t?”

  “You look my age. That’s too young to be calling yourself a man.”

  “I’m a man, trust me.”

  “Your skin is so perfect.”

  I chuckle, “Thank you. Yours is pretty paintable, too.”

  “Are you a painter?”

  “No, but if I were, I’d start with your face.”

  She flickers, glances to the stroller and back to me. She has the strangest effect on me. “I have to go.”

  “Okay,” I frown, chewing my lip as I stare at the sidewalk. Never one for subtlety I decide to go for it. “Where’d you get that bruise?”

  Her jaw slackens. She reaches for the stroller’s handle, knuckles whitening. “What bruise?”

  “The one on your—”

  “I don’t have any bruises.”

  “Then why are you wearing a long-sleeved shirt on an eighty-degree day?”