Crashed

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 fucking 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 fuckin’ 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 fuck 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-fuck 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 fucking 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 fuck 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 fuck 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 fucking 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-fucking 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 motherfucker, aren’t you?”

I look over at him ready to defend my fucking manhood when I realize it’s right where I want it to be, held in Rylee’s fucking 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 pussy doing the whipping, I’m fucking 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 motherfucking voodoo pussy ever to tame Colton fuckin’ Donavan.”

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

“That friend deserves a shitload of beer as a thank you then.” He shrugs. “That, or a mighty fine piece of ass in return.”

I snort out a laugh, grateful for his sarcasm to avoid talking about deep feelings and shit that I’m not really comfortable discussing. I’m just getting used to saying this kind of shit to Ry, I’m sure as fuck not going to be getting touchy-feely with Becks.

“She’s got a hot friend,” I tell him with a raise of my eyebrow, earning me a snort in return as I repeat what I said the night I talked him into inviting Ry to Vegas with us.

“She sure does,” he murmurs, but before I can respond, Aiden cannonballs into the pool and the splash hits us full on. We start laughing, comment forgotten, sunglasses now splashed with water.

“Hey,” he says, and I look back over at him. “I have to give you shit because that’s just the way we roll … but I’m really happy for you, Wood. Now don’t fuck it up.”

I grin at him. The fucker. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, dude.”

“Anytime, man. Anytime.” We sit in silence for a moment, both watching the boys around us acting like they’re supposed to be, kids. “So you ready?”