Page 17 of Wrong Turn

I’m trying my best to believe everything is okay, but in reality, I’m freaking the hell out. The beam of the flashlight wavers because I can’t stop the slight shaking in my hands. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to ask Lukas if he thinks Joey would give me a ride back to the girls. However, the bitch-fit I threw before storming out of the cabin makes the idea float away on the night’s gentle breeze.

“Bridget, did you hear me?” Lukas says.

“Hmm? Sorry, I must have zoned out. What's up?”

“I said, I don't think there’s much else I can try. We may as well just wait in the truck until my guy gets here.”

I give him a slight nod, keeping the flashlight on the area around the engine so he can ensure he grabs all of the tools he’s pulled out.

When he finishes and zips up the bag, I let my arm drop. I was beginning to think it would lose feeling before he was done.

Lukas rounds the truck to the passenger side, holding the door open for me to climb in. “Give me a minute, I’m going to throw this into the back then run over to the trees to take a piss.”

Who said men don't know how to talk to women?

I don’t know why I was ever attracted to this redneck.

Remembering the fact I pretty much tried to prostitute myself out to him for a ride makes me cringe internally.

What was I thinking? Gross, Bridget.

16

DIY HAND HOLDS

LUKAS

Ifinish taking care of business and zip up. Turning on my heel, I wait in the darkness, trying to make out Bridget’s shadowy figure in my truck. Slowly, I creep my way back to the vehicle. The closer I get to her, the harder my dick gets.

By the time I sit down in the driver’s seat and close the door, I’m fighting a painful hard-on. It's not her that's got my dick erect, but the thought of being the last person to ever see her alive.

Pre-cum leaks through the fabric of my jeans as I picture her face on another missing person’s flyer. It’s stapled to a telephone pole in our small town, whipping in the gentle breeze. The street is littered with them, the faces of all my victims. Driving to the grocery store is like my own trophy hall, all the faces morphing from their happiest moments frozen in time, to somber expressions as I pass. It’s a morbid thrill I’ve never found anywhere else, except when I’m ripping the life away from someone weaker than me.

“So…earlier, when you asked me for a ride… You said that you’d make it worth my time or something. What exactly did you mean?”

She looks at me from the corner of her eye, “I was really hoping you’d forgotten about that,” she mumbles. “Look, I was just trying to get out of there, and away from that shit situation. I promise, I’m usually not like that.”

“That's a shame. I was thinking it might help the time go by a little faster.” I rub my dick through my pants, and her eyes widen when she catches the movement.

Bridget clues into what I’m doing, and what I want. Moving herself as far away from me as possible, she presses herself up against the door.

“Oh, don't be like that now, sweetheart,” I coo. “You were so eager to do whatever I wanted not that long ago.”

“Let's just wait for the mechanic, Lukas. You can give me a ride into town, or he can, then we can both just forget about all of this. We can forget about this fucking trip. I can forget my so-called friends, and you can forget about me.”

She’s not wrong, she’s easily forgettable, just a blip in my murderous history.

Barking out a laugh, I pull my fat dick out of my pants. “Oh, sweetheart. Did your parents never teach you not to get into cars with strangers? I fully expect you to hold up your end of the bargain. If not, you can get the fuck out, and walk the twenty miles back to town.”

“Twenty miles?” She gulps, weighing her options as fear shines in her shit-brown eyes. “Fine, I’ll walk, asshole.” She reaches for the door handle, pulling on it, but the door doesn’t open. “What the fuck?” she whispers, tears glossing up her eyes.

“Child locks, sweetheart. A simple flick of a small switch, and you’re locked in here with me until I let you out.” She whimpers, weak and pathetic, crumbling just like all the others before. Whydoesn’t anyone ever fight? Does no one have a survival instinct anymore? Amber would fight me. She’d probably try to fucking stab me if I had her in this situation. I can’t wait to find out. Summer’s smart fucking mouth will give me a run for my money too, before I choke her on my cock. “Get over here and wrap those thin bird lips around my dick before I cut them off and do it myself.”

She moves closer, albeit at the speed of a snail in the winter time. “Lukas, please don’t do this. You’re a good guy, deep down. I’m sure of it. You helped us, bonded with us.” Bridget pleads for me to stop, and it irks me. Why doesn’t she ever stop talking?

“Awe, that would pull on my heartstrings, if I had any…or if my name was fucking Lukas,” I growl. Her eyes widen at my admission, and I watch enthralled as despair smothers out any hope she had. The light dies in her eyes as she leans down, taking my shaft into her mouth, resigned to her fate.

Up and down her head bobs half-heartedly, not putting in near enough effort to push me anywhere close to a climax. I swear, I could go to a nursing home and have someone’s grandmother gum me with more enthusiasm than this. I reach down, grab her hair, and face fuck the living shit out of her until she’s gagging, her free-flowing tears soaking my groin.

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