All the Way (Hot Jocks #2)(56)

Barely thirty seconds later, she’s naked and in my lap, rubbing those beautiful curves all over my chest, and making me groan with anticipation.

From the bedside table, I grab a condom and suit up. Her tongue traces a line down my throat while she teases me, moving her hips up and down over my straining dick.

Some unexpected emotion wells up inside me, and my eyes sink closed. This girl—our connection—it’s been so unexpected, but now I can’t imagine my life without her.

“Want you inside me,” she murmurs, lifting onto her knees to find the right angle.

I help her out, positioning myself as she begins to slowly sink down.

Heaven.

This is what heaven feels like.

She moans loudly, a desperate sound that makes my balls ache.

“Angel,” I groan, skimming my hands over her breasts as they bounce.

Becca experiments moving her hips, finding a rhythm that makes her happy. I hear the sound of ragged breathing and it takes me a second to realize that it’s mine. Gone is the timid girl who needed my help, and in her place is an irresistible woman I can’t get enough of.

“Stop, stop, stop, stop,” I pant.

Her wide eyes meet mine as she stills. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to fucking kill me.” That’s what’s wrong.

A lazy smile tugs at her lips, and she leans down to kiss me, her long hair brushing against my chest. “I think you can handle it, don’t you?”

I grip her hips in my hands and let out a slow breath. “Just don’t move for a sec.”

Becca laughs, the sound low and sultry. Damn, when did she turn into such a sex kitten? I feel like I’ve created a monster. A sexy, tempting monster who’s going to give me a heart attack if she keeps riding me like that, but a monster all the same.

Cupping the back of her neck, I bring her lips to mine, and we kiss deeply for several minutes while I try to cool down. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself by coming in under two minutes. Jesus. Get it together, Parrish.

Becca eases up before slowly lowering herself back down on my aching cock. She plants her hands firmly against my chest and starts to move again.

A choked gasp escapes me, and my entire body shivers.

Watching her fuck my cock is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Folding my hands behind my head, I lean back to enjoy the view, and all the sensations that go with it. My hips shift up off the mattress, and I give her more of what she wants.

“God, I fucking rock at this boyfriend thing.”

Becca laughs and the sound is so perfect that my heart actually squeezes. Wait. Did I say that out loud?

“You really do,” she pants, angling her hips closer.

Then she bites her lip and gets back to the job at hand—that job being making me lose my damn mind.





22




* * *





All the Way





Owen



I’d wanted to plan a sweet, elaborate date for Becca today. God knows she deserves it. She’s been a saint for putting up with me over the past month.

The truth is, I had no idea how to be a good boyfriend—hell, even a bad boyfriend, for that matter. But by some miracle, sweet and sexy Becca was willing to let me practice with her.

I even consulted Teddy, because he’s the only one with relationship experience in our group other than Justin, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to go to my sister’s boyfriend for advice. Teddy gave me a few ideas—like a nice dinner out for her favorite kinds of foods, maybe the symphony or an art gallery. But in the end, he (wisely) advised me to ask Becca what she’d like to do today.

As it turns out, that was a very good idea. Because what Becca wanted to do was have me join her on her run and then go out for sub sandwiches after. Who knew?

I told her we could do anything in the world, any fancy or elaborate thing she wanted, but she was firm. She wanted to run today. I told her not to expect much from me, that I’m an athlete but not a runner, but she insisted I could do it, that I was in better shape than anyone she knew.

“Thanks for doing this,” she says as she pants beside me. “I really needed a running buddy to motivate me to tackle this today.”

The thing we’re tackling together? A ten-mile run. Jesus.

My chest heaves, and I push my legs to keep up with her. I should have stretched better before we started. My hamstrings are tight and my calves are already cramping, and we’re only at mile three.

“You know I’m not a runner, right? This shit is really fucking hard,” I pant out, already breathless.

She nods beside me. “The first three miles are the hardest. By mile four, you’ll be warmed up, and then it will get easier.”

I doubt that it’s going to get easier the farther we go, yet somehow that’s exactly what happens. Miles four through seven are a breeze, but by mile eight, I’m more than ready to be done.

But Becca is totally in her element—a look of determination painted across her features, and the glow of sweat on her forehead and chest. I have to force myself not to notice how good she looks in her tiny black running shorts and bright pink tank top. Otherwise, I’ll have a whole other set of problems to deal with on this run.

Almost two hours from when we started, we finally cross ten miles, and I stop, hands on my knees as I suck in deep lungfuls of air. Becca just laughs at me and keeps walking, enjoying her cooldown.