Can You Drive With A Broken Strut?

Warning: Mature Content Ahead. Can’t decide what trope you want to read next? Well, look no further because Fractured has it all. If you're ready to dive into a world where passion meets peril, where dominance intertwines with desire, and where one fierce female leads the charge, then this book is for you. On her first day at university, Josie’s life takes a dramatic turn. Expecting nothing more than the typical college experience, she instead finds herself thrust into a realm of supernatural intrigue. Her guide into this new world is none other than her enigmatic and irresistibly attractive headmaster. As Josie navigates her new reality, she encounters five breathtakingly hot males, each with their own secrets and powers. These men are not just eye candy; they play pivotal roles in a dangerous game of power and attraction. Josie must learn to harness her strength, confront hidden enemies, and balance the intense chemistry with the dominant males who surround her. Her journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and undeniable passion. This book is a thrilling blend of romance, suspense, and supernatural elements, perfect for readers who crave a story that's as hot as it is heart-pounding. Prepare for mature themes and explicit scenes that will leave you breathless. Join Josie as she embarks on an adventure that will challenge her, change her, and ignite a flame within her that burns brighter than she ever imagined. This story contains explicit group scenes including some bxb.

"Hank, there's something hard down there pushing into me." On the driving school car, I was teaching my goddaughter how to drive by letting her sit on my lap, my hands over hers on the wheel. But right after we started, the engine stalled, and the whole car jerked hard. Her round hips settled deep into my thighs. To make things even more intense, she was wearing nothing but a skirt that barely covered her.

"Coach, please stop. I came here to learn how to drive, not to have an affair." Inside the instructor's car, because I kept failing to control the clutch, Coach Reeves, who happened to be my husband's friend, made me sit on his lap to teach me. The problem was, I was wearing a short skirt that day, and underneath it, I wasn't even wearing safety shorts. Even worse, he actually pulled his member out and pressed it straight against me.

At a highway service area, the man parked in the next space points under his van and shouts that it's leaking fuel and is about to explode. I am a veteran auto mechanic with ten years of experience. Without hesitation, I slide under the vehicle and, within ten seconds, clamp off the fuel line. The moment I crawl back out, I catch the smell of mineral water. The owner, Billy Dickson, immediately pulls out his phone and starts a livestream while several of his accomplices pin me against the hood. "Watch this, everyone! We set the perfect trap and caught a gang of catalytic converter thieves! See how smoothly he got under the chassis? He's obviously a repeat offender. Every missing part at this service area has to be his doing!" Covered in dirt and grease, I try to explain to the crowd that I only cut the line because I thought the vehicle was about to catch fire and endanger everyone nearby. Billy spits a thick wad of phlegm right onto my shoe. "Who asked you to stick your nose into my business? You crawled under my van because you wanted to steal parts! Either you pay for a brand-new vehicle today, or I'll hand you over to the police and make sure you rot in prison!" Not wanting to delay getting my wife, who's about to go into labor, to the hospital, I grit my teeth and transfer them 20,000 dollars to settle the matter privately. Three days later, on a long downhill stretch of a winding mountain road, Billy's van completely loses its brakes. Black smoke pours from the tires. He recognizes my car and frantically blares the horn. Rolling down his window, he begs me to tell him how to survive. I simply press down on the accelerator and widen the distance between us, my face completely expressionless. "Back for another livestream to chase views? Give me a break. To prove I'm not a car thief, I already threw my wrenches into the river. You'll have to figure out for yourself how to jump out of the van."

Right before New Year’s, the sports car I had waited six months for was finally delivered. However, my wife Vanessa snatched the keys from my hand. “Ryan likes sports cars. Let him take yours for a quick spin.” I refused. I knew her godbrother, Ryan, did not even have a driver’s license. Still, she secretly gave him the keys anyway. When I saw my car again, the car hood was covered in blood. Vanessa was holding Ryan. Her face was full of distress, and her words left me stunned. “Honey, please take the blame for Ryan. No one will make things hard for you with your background.” I immediately refused, but Vanessa then pulled out her phone. “I already turned you in. Just go along with it. You’ll be fine.” I could not believe my eyes when I saw the police call history.

My girlfriend and I had agreed that she would come home with me for Thanksgiving to meet my parents. However, the night before the trip, she canceled on me again. My older cousin, who had never liked me, immediately started throwing sarcastic comments my way. “Five years together and she still hasn’t met your family? Maybe she never took you seriously in the first place. And honestly, a man shouldn’t think too highly of himself. You might end up raising someone else’s kid without even knowing it,” he said. I ignored him and stepped outside to get some air, but then I found that the car parked in front of the neighbor’s house looked strangely familiar. My heart skipped a beat. Could this be a surprise from my girlfriend? I was just about to call her when my cousin clicked his tongue and pointed at the car. “Still, you’ve gotta admit Liam Crossby really knows how to live. He brought home a gorgeous and successful girlfriend. You? You’ve spent your whole life losing to him.” My eyes locked onto the license plate, and my fingers froze. Then, I dialed a hidden number I hadn’t used in years. “Bring the guys. Trash the car.”