Loose Cannon (American Badass Book 2) Page 3

  On the screen, a video plays showing an image of the tank in the hangar. Then I see myself walking towards the tank and around to the back. The video skips to me getting inside and a few seconds later, the video skips to me getting out of the hatch then shortly, thereafter, the senator crawls out.

  I sigh. “Where did you get this?”

  “My brother took it.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Well, that’s great! Have a talk with him and ask him to delete the video.”

  As I look at her stoic face, butterflies form in my stomach. If this kid has already posted the video on social media, I could lose my job. I’ve already invested several years into the army after signing up at eighteen and the senator’s little shithead of a brother could end my career with this video. Not to mention, I love the army.

  “Has this already gone public?” I ask the senator.

  “Not according to my shithead brother,” she replies and leans back into her chair. “But it will if I don’t give my brother fifty thousand dollars.”

  “What?!” I ask as I replay the video while she continues speaking.

  “Apparently, the drugs I flushed into the toilet were worth that much and my kid brother needs to fork up the money or his drug boss is going to kill him.”

  After viewing the video for the second time, I realize the kid really has nothing on us. We are seen getting in and out of the tank, but there’s nothing there other than the sound of a few moans in the middle of the replay.

  “Honestly,” I tell her. “I don’t think your brother has anything here to extort you with. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “Not worry?” she whines and slams her hands on the table. “I’m not worried about being extorted by my brother! I’m worried he could get killed by a drug lord and it’s all your fault!”

  “My fault?” I ask. “How is it my fault your brother got involved in dealing drugs?”

  “If you hadn’t taken him to the bathroom and found the drugs, I might not have been so rash as to flush the drugs down the toilet.”

  “Hold on a minute,” I tell her and throw the phone back, which she catches. “If anything, I saved his life. Your brother is going to die of a heart attack sooner than later if he keeps snorting that shit and you need to stop spoiling him. He wouldn’t be engaged in any of this if he wasn’t so fucking spoiled.”

  “And what would you know about that? You’re a grunt. You couldn’t possibly comprehend what’s at stake here. I can’t possibly expect you to understand anything about what it means to have things ripped from you. My brother lost his father and his older brother at a young age. I’m confident you know nothing about that,” she sulks and leans to put her forehead in her hand.

  She’s wrong. I know a lot about what she’s saying, but I’m not going to correct her. The senator thinks she’s insulted me by calling me a grunt, but I wear my grunt-style like I wear my name badge; it’s visible to everyone, but only a select few will truly understand how fucking badass it is.

  “I’ll help you,” I tell her. Her eye peeps between her fingers to look at me. “That’s why you called me here, isn’t it?” I ask. “I’m your guy, and you can’t go to anyone else about this because of the publicity. And you thought because of what happened yesterday between your brother and I as well as between me and you, I might continue to do the right thing and help you both.”

  The senator tries desperately to keep a straight face, but I can see a smile playing at the corner of her mouth as it did yesterday. “Can you help me?” she asks with glossy necessitous eyes.

  I don’t like seeing the senator like this. I like the superhero.

  “I can help your brother by taking him to military camp as we discussed.”

  She rolls her eyes. “How is that going to help him?”

  “If you get the money, I will make a plan with him to deliver the debt he owes for the drugs. But your brother still needs friends. He is still looking to fill the void of the family members missing in his life.”

  The senator closes her eyes and a tear rolls down her cheek.

  I toss my cap on her desk and get up to walk around the huge mahogany workspace stacked with papers and file folders to stand next to her. I lean down and murmur, “I lost my father as the two of you did, but I must admit I would go mad if I had lost either one of my brothers the way you both lost yours.” The senator turns her head to look at me. “You’ve done the best you can for the kid, but I believe he’s desperate to follow in both his father and brother’s footsteps. He’s ready to grow up and be a man. You have to let him do that.”

  She folds her arms, but I can tell she understands exactly what I’m saying as she sighs and halfheartedly nods.

  “Now, open your mouth,” I tell her.

  “What?” she asks bewildered as she squints back up at me.

  I pull at her hand to urge her to stand up, which she does. “Open your mouth,” I repeat, “because your younger brother is not the only one who needs help.”

  She shakes her head. “You want me to open my mouth? What...what are you going to do? Kiss me?”

  I nod with a grin and she blushes.

  “We can’t,” she pleads as she tries to sit back down, but I grip her elbow to keep her standing next to me.

  “No, you can’t,” I clarify, “because, like you said, you don’t want to do any of the work, but I can because like I said yesterday, I’m more than willing to do all the work. And to be honest, Senator Jones, I’m afraid you need my help—more than your brother does.”

  She tilts her head down as she sighs and I stick my finger down into the tight space of cleavage between her breasts. Her superhero steel blue eyes wander back up at me and I know she can see right through me.

  “It’s not asking too much,” I tell her as I yank her closer with my finger tucked between her tits. “This is hardly going to take any effort, hardly any work at all on your part. But I need you to open your mouth so I can stick my tongue in there the least you can do is make my work easy for me.”

  The senator closes her lips and swallows. Her breathing picks up its pace and my finger feels like it’s being squeezed tighter and tighter between her breasts as her chest is heaving. Her lips slightly part and I see her chin drop barely a quarter of an inch, but her mouth is definitely more open.

  I swoop in and stick my tongue into the open space forcing her mouth wider as I grab her by the back of the head with one hand. My other hand comes free from her cleavage and I grab her bosom.

  I push her ass back against the desk and I reach down to pull the hem of her dress up to her waist. Stretch thong today! She is a superhero. My rock-hard cock is desperate to come free from hiding beneath the camouflage of my uniform. It pokes at the space between the senator’s thighs as I lift her onto the desk and get between her legs.

  She escapes my lips and pulls away. “I can’t,” she says.

  Not this again. “What’s wrong?” I ask and keep my grip on her waist.

  The senator looks about her office then looks at me. “This feels like work to me.”

  She’s still confusing love and work. “Will it feel like work if all I do is eat your pussy?”

  The senator gulps and shakes her head—no.

  I turn to pull her chair under me and sit down. I look up at the senator; she’s staring down at me as I slip my finger under her thong and tug it to the side. I look at the pretty pink shaved pussy staring me in the face and I roll myself in the chair to get closer. I grab each of the senator’s legs and place them over each shoulder.

  Behind her desk and in her chair, I can certainly sense how this might feel like work, but I’m happy to do it.

  I kiss at the crease where her thigh meets her center and she shivers.

  I lick up the length of the right lip of her pussy and she shakes.

  I lick her clit and she moans.

  I bury my tongue between the top folds of her pussy and wiggle and rotate my head, working my whole upper body until I slip my
tongue into her pussy hole and fuck her with it.

  I have my tongue in a senator’s pussy.

  She grabs at my head and I put my tongue and lips back over her clit. I reach one hand to grasp her titty and the other to grab her ass. I know I’m workin’ it hard as I eat her. And I eat her to the point she comes.

  Her body is so tense as she gyrates in my palms and mouth. I’m feeling pretty good about myself until I feel an ache at my balls. I look down and my dick is still hard—this woman is going to work me to death! She’s supposed to be a superhero, but if I’m not careful she’s going to fucking kill me; I’m going to die of blue ball syndrome.

  I wipe my mouth and get up to reach for my cap. As I do, I give the senator one more quick kiss on the lips and then I head towards the door. Of course, I’d love to make her taste herself longer, but my fucking balls hurt.

  “Sergeant, wait!” she says, coming off the desk and fixing her dress. “May I take you to lunch?”

  I smile; I have to get home.

  “I already ate, ma’am, but thank you. Please try not to work so hard today.”

  Chapter 4

  The senator called me on Monday—the same night after I ate her out in her office. I had to jack myself off for the second time that day after hearing her voice.

  She called to inquire about how I’d get her brother to go to military camp. She was uneasy about the fact I planned to simply abduct him, but drastic change requires drastic measures. That’s what my father would say whenever he tried to explain the purpose of training. “When a man tastes his own blood, sweat, and tears dripping into his mouth from his own brow, it changes him. That’s when he comes to know glory,” he used to say. ““Change requires guts. True glory tastes like your own guts.”

  The senator called me again on Tuesday. She wanted to know the details of how exactly I planned to abduct her brother. Listening to her tongue slide between her teeth to annunciate syllable after syllable as she tried to interrogate me with question after question on the tactics I planned to use consumed my mind with the taste of her. If I had my way, I’d bathe myself in the glorious rain that pours out of her pussy when I lick her.

  On Wednesday, she called me again, but that time, she asked how I was feeling. She mentioned she could sense I seemed under the weather. I was honest when I told her I didn’t feel too good, but I left out the part that it was because of her. My fingers and tongue have been doing all of the work, but it’s my balls that are still aching with no relief of ever having been inside her.

  On Thursday, she called once more, but this time, I had to cut the call short. One of my younger brothers needed to talk. I can never tell if it’s a blessing or a curse to be the oldest. With the absence of our father who passed away last year and my mother who is in a nursing home, I’m the one my younger brothers look to for advice and guidance. They’re grown men and it surprises me they can’t solve their own problems, but I’m always happy to know if I ever needed to call them for help, they would come to my aid in an instant.

  So now it’s Friday. The senator is calling me again, but I silence the phone as I’m driving my extended crew cab black Chevy Silverado. I have her brother tied up in the backseat with tape over his mouth, but I don’t want to risk the kid letting her in on the struggle I had trying to get him into the rear seat of the truck. The senator is such a sucker for her kid brother, she might ask me to cut him loose. Truthfully, I think I’m a sucker for her, which I’m surprised about myself. She could command me however she wanted, and I’d do whatever the fuck she asks. It’s not just the eyes that can see right through a person, but she also has a commanding voice that could entice a guy to do whatever she wants.

  The camp is a second chance for kids, especially high school seniors who have bombed their scholarly careers and have most likely chosen it as an alternative to jail for some dumb crime. Due to the circumstances surrounding the “campers,” it has two entrances—one for boys and one for girls.

  I decide to deliver Cracker Jack to the girls’ side. I don’t think he’s a girl—not at all. But considering the porn magazine he was carrying around in his backpack, I have a feeling when he sees the girls in their gray cotton shorts and tees, it might be enough to make him behave and go along with the whole thing.

  And, of course, I was right.

  “Good morning!” says a cheery looking young lady of about nineteen with long, straight dirty-blonde hair pulled tight into a ponytail and big green eyes. I’m sure at some point she was a lost teen and brought here against her will by her parents, but she is now a camp counselor. I roll my window down and hear the kid roll to the floor of my truck, which I’m sure is to avoid being seen. “Dropping off?” she asks as she peeks into the empty back seat.

  “He’s on the floor,” I tell her and she peeps through the back window.

  “Sir,” she says coming back to my window. “This is the women’s drop off and I’m not so sure how the administrators are going to feel about your son being tied up on the floor of your car.”

  “Graham Jack Jones is not my son, but he is in desperate need of a haircut. I know you all have better barbers on this side. And don’t worry about Graham. I’ve already spoken with your administration.”

  The young lady wiggles her nose. “Is that Senator Gemma Jones’s younger brother?”

  “Yes, it is,” I say and I notice through the rear view mirror, Graham is shaking his angry head as he tries to get back to sitting on the seat behind me. I guess I should’ve warned him it was useless to hide.

  “Graham,” calls the young lady to him through my window, “are you okay?”

  I notice the kid’s face soften and he pauses for a minute before he nods politely. She smiles at him; it’s more kindness than he’s known in a while, I’m sure. Graham is rarely asked if he’s okay, according to my guess. He probably lives the way Gemma mentioned she does—someone always wants something from them. I’m also sure he’s had to live with expectation rather than assuredness like some kids—like me as a small child, but under different circumstances, as I was abused.

  I chuckle to myself as I see his cheeks rise with a smile hidden beneath the tape at the sight of the counselor. I turn around and reach back to rip the tape off Graham’s mouth. “The lady was asking you question. Are you going to answer her?”

  “Fuck!” shouts Graham from the sting of the tape coming off. “Yes!”

  “Look at her when you’re talking to her,” I yell back at Graham peeping through his nappy bangs to look at the girl. “Yes, ma’am,” I correct him.

  Graham snorts a bit. “Yes, ma’am, I’m fine,” he says humbly.

  The young lady exhales in relief. “How about you all park right there and I’ll take you to the barber,” she says.

  I nod and turn the truck to park it, but before we get out, I cut Graham’s taped wrists free. “My brothers and I, we were all brought here at one point,” I tell Graham. “Granted, we were all brought at different ages, but we came in the same condition I’m bringing you in,” I say and I get out of the car and shut the door.

  Graham stays seated in the back for a few minutes until he finally gets out. “You’re not my brother and don’t think for a second you can compare me to your brothers,” he says. “I’m a Goddamn billionaire and nothing like you losers.”

  “Oh, but you are, Graham,” I warn.

  “Yeah? I doubt it. There’s no fucking way I’m anything like you!”

  “Trust me, you are.”

  “Oh yeah?” he laughs. “How’s that?”

  “You’re your father’s son.”

  Graham stops in his tracks. His eyes glimmer; they’re watering. I can tell the wheels are turning in his head as he peeps at the girl ahead. Graham nearly trips as I push him towards her a few yards away. She’s waving her arms at us, urging us to follow her. She really is beautiful and, despite the near-to-the-ground collapse, Graham doesn’t turn his gaze from her.

  This is going to be much easier than I tho
ught.

  We follow the girl to the barber and the women and girls look perplexed at the sight of the two of us, being of the opposite sex, but a tough-looking black woman glowers over Graham’s nappy head of hair and points to him.

  “Get your ass in this seat, boy,” she says armed with scissors and clippers both held in one hand. To Graham’s surprise, she drops the scissors and powers on the clippers.

  Graham is fuming as he gets in the seat, looking at me with a crimson face and beady eyes as the pretty girl watches with a tight-lipped smile. The black woman wastes no time to skim the clippers over his scalp allowing Graham’s hair to fall in chunks to the floor.

  We all notice the young lady bite her lip and her cheeks blush as the hair continues to fall. She watches Graham intensely at the transformation that is happening. Graham can’t keep her gaze for very long though, as his eyes keep wander back and forth from the floor to her hand as she twiddles with her own ponytail.

  When Graham has lost all his hair, a Latina woman brings him a gray shirt and shorts. “Put these on,” she says. “You can change in the bushes outside.”

  “What?!” cries Graham, “I’m not changing outside in the woods.”

  “That’s fine,” says the black woman, “you can change right here. I’m sure none of these women will mind, but you’re not going into the women’s locker room.”

  Graham gulps and the young lady counselor reaches to grab his hand. “C’mon, I’ll take you,” she says.

  Graham reluctantly gets out of the seat as the black woman calls out, “Next!”

  Graham and I follow the young lady as she leads him behind a building before disappearing around a corner to wait for him to change. “I can’t believe I’m doing this shit,” he grumbles as he changes his clothes with his back to me. “Does my sister even know I’m here? When she finds out, she’s going to have you arrested for kidnapping,” he smirks. “How long am I going to be here?” he asks and he looks around at the woods in front of him. “I bet I can easily escape this place.”