Novelas y relatos de Drive Me Crazy

“You’re driving me crazy.” The words hit me harder than the coffee spill. My breath caught, my eyes snapping up to his. “What?” I whispered, my voice trembling. His jaw tightened, his brows drawn together in a faint frown, like he didn’t even understand himself. “You… You’re driving me crazy, Celeste. And I don’t even know why.” For a moment, all I could do was stare. He looked frustrated, almost angry, but not at me—at himself. As if the feeling unsettled him as much as it unsettled me.

With a sharp turn, I drove into the main road, heading straight to that one place where I would find Derek. The car sped along the road, flying past the others at a maddening speed but somehow, it didn't feel enough. My anger was growing. My hatred was skyrocketing and my fear was slamming hard against every other rationality left. I stepped on the gas, and the car jerked forward as I drove past the corner of a trailer. Curses followed behind me but I couldn't care less. I didn't slow down. I drove at a crazy speed just as my thoughts were driving me into insanity so fast.

Arggshh! It's dark. I must go home, I should be at my house when 8 o'clock comes. Arggssh! Time runs so fast. It's five minutes before 8 pm. I should go ahead. I go outside, get my motor, and leave the minibar. * VVRRRRROOOOOMMMM * While I'm driving. A car overtakes and it blocked the way that causes me to stop driving. Argg! Why now? I'm dizzy and almost drunk. Why now?

This is my story, the story of my crazy normal world. I am late; I am always late; I think I like the rush of being late. I am speeding like a crazy person to get to my appointment. I also like the thrill of driving too fast; I think I like everything that is a rush, everything that is too fast. I like anything that pumps the adrenaline into my veins. It is nearly as close as a mindblowing orgasm. My therapist tells me that I have an addictive personality, and I think he just might be right.

I hissed coldly. "We did, I mean.. you can go home or go back to the restaurant." He said simply. "You're evil." I said and left him alone. I got into my car and decided to go to my restaurant. I need to go to the doctor soon because I kept having my blood pressure going up. Quarter life crisis. "Fuck it!" I smacked my steering wheel completely frustrated and found myself driving so fast towards Lena's house. I never drove so fast before, I think my blood pressure controlling me right now.

Adrian said as he stood up from the chair and left his father’s office. He was pissed, confused and angry. He could have never imagined his day to go that way. He had been annoyed by his younger brother, his youngest sister and had a marriage thrust at him all in one day. He tried to calm his mind down as he drove down the street. In his anger, he didn’t even realize how far he was driving; he didn’t realize he was moving towards his resting place, where he came to where the real world seemed too stressful.

Xander Hayes The door slammed, echoing against the morning silence as I hopped from the driver's side of the Audi A8 L, Peter Monroe's preferred vehicle for transport. Three months into this job and I still can't get a hang of not being early. I guess it's just stuck with me after spending all those years in my line of work. Besides, I know firsthand not to keep bosses waiting.

"You're a cripple now, so let's see how you're going to fight me now." Suddenly, his hand tilted, and the entire glass of scalding hot milk poured over my arm. A sharp, burning pain exploded through my nerves as I grunted in pain, and my crutch slipped from my grip. I lost balance and crashed heavily to the floor. A searing agony ripped through my leg, and cold sweat from pain soaked my back. But what broke me more was the music box that tumbled from my arms and clattered onto the floor with a crisp crack.

Still locked on my little Rebel on her knees in front of me. I slam my palm down on the emergency stop button. The treadmill belt screeches to a violent halt beneath me, nearly throwing me forward. I grip the handles hard enough that the metal groans, chest heaving, my cock already half-hard and pressing uncomfortably against the tight fabric from just the memory. “Fuck.” The silence rushes back in after my curses is heavier than before. Meeka. That woman, that name entirely is going to be the death of me. She drove me absolutely, teeth-grindingly insane—a feat no other woman has ever managed to pull off.

But my greed had me owning pieces of everything—every country I could get my hands on. My jaw clenched hard at the thought of her being kidnapped. I got into the car and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath again, driving like a maniac. It would take two hours to get to my fucking glass house. I slammed my fists on the steering wheel, the horn blaring out in rage.