Crashed (Driven, #3)(122)

“What?” he asks innocently, despite the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and eyes reflecting the mischief I’ve come to love and expect from him. When all I do is raise my eyebrows, I feel the rumble of his chuckle through his chest and into mine.

“The alphabet, Ace?” I raise an eyebrow and try to bite back my own smile, but it’s useless.

“Yep. I’m seeing the alphabet in a whole new light these days,” he says, abandoning his letter tracing and trailing his finger down the top of my backside.

My laugh is overtaken by a sigh as his hand palms my ass. I can feel that ache he always has on low burn start to simmer anew. He starts to harden inside of me again and moisture starts to pool as desire is heightened by the complete connection of our bodies.

“And just what might your favorite letter be?”

He emits a full bodied laugh, his shaking body reverberating all the way down to his cock, now alert and fully buried within me. “Oh, baby, I’m kind of partial to your V. That’s the only place that I want to B.”

I can’t even laugh at his corny line because he chooses this moment to thrust his hips upward, my body moving with it, his skin rubbing my nipples and coaxing a pleasurable groan from my throat. My eyes close and body softens as his movements draw heightened responses from the flesh already swollen from him.

“Good God!” I sigh as he pulls me out of my post-catatonic orgasmic state and drags me under his spell once again.





The sun feels just as f*cking good as the ice cold beer sliding down my throat and the sight of Rylee bending over in front of me. Fuck is my only thought as I adjust myself and think thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking with the boys here.


Will this ever end? To want her near? The want to watch her sleep and wake up next to her? My need to be buried in her? It’s been only three damn hours since we’ve left my bed and f*ckin’ A, I’d love to drag her upstairs right now and have her again.

“Down boy!”

And there’s the voice that will make me go limp.

“’Sup, Becks.”

“Apparently you, if you don’t stop looking at her like you want to bend her over that lounge chair and f*ck her into oblivion,” he says, taking a long sip of his beer.

Well, that’s always a thought.

I groan. “Thanks for the visual, dude, because that’s really not helping right now,” I reply with a roll of my eyes and shake of my head, before looking around to make sure the boys are far enough away they can’t hear us talking about how I want to defile their sexy-as-f*ck guardian. And my God is she a walking wet dream. I shift in my chair again as I watch her squat down and adjust the top of her suit before slathering sunscreen all over Zander.

I shake my head thinking about her concern earlier in picking which swimsuit to wear with the boys coming over for a pool party. Even in the red one piece that she deemed matronly, every f*cking curve of hers is on display like a goddamn road map tempting me to take it out for a test drive.

Dangerous curves ahead? Fuckin’ A. Bring. It. On. I’m a man that lives for danger. The thrill I get from it. And f*ck if I’m not itching for the keys, right now.

Talk about revved and raring.

“By that sappy ass look on your face, I take it things are going good?” Becks asks as he sits down beside me and snaps me from my dirty thoughts.

“Pretty much.” I pop the top off of another bottle with the opener and take a drink.

“Please don’t tell me you’re gonna get all domesticated and shit on me now.”

“Domesticated? Fuck no.” I laugh. “Although the woman is hot as f*ck in her heels pushing that grocery cart in front of me.” I can visualize it now and damn if the thought’s not making me ache to take her.

“You—Colton Donavan—stepped foot into a grocery store?” he sputters.

“Yep.” I raise my eyebrows and smirk at the look of shock on his face.

“And it wasn’t just to buy condoms?”

I can’t help it now. I love f*cking with him. It’s just too goddamn easy. “Nah, no longer a requirement when you hold a frequent flier card to the barebacking club.”

“Jesus Christ, dude, are you trying to get me to choke on my beer?” He wipes beer off his chin that he spit out.

“I got something else you can choke on,” I murmur as my eyes are drawn back to Rylee bending over, my constant semi wanting to fly full staff. I’m so focused on her and my corrupt but oh-so-f*cking awesome thoughts of what I can do to her later that I don’t hear what Becks says. “Huh?” I ask.

“Dude, you are one whipped motherf*cker, aren’t you?”

I look over at him ready to defend my f*cking manhood when I realize it’s right where I want it to be, held in Rylee’s f*cking hands—the perfect mixture of sugar and spice. So I laugh out and just shake my head, bring the beer to my lips and shrug. “As long as it’s her * doing the whipping, I’m f*cking game all day long.”

Becks chokes again but with laughter this time, and I pat him on the back as Ry looks over at us making sure he’s okay. “My God! That must be the best motherf*cking voodoo * ever to tame Colton f*ckin’ Donavan.”

“Tame? Never.” I chuckle and shake my head, leaning back on the chair behind me to look over at him. “But some *—er friend—made me realize how much I like the f*cking alphabet.”