Page 26 of Hitch
I pull out my phone, clicking through the social media apps until I find her posts. The most recent one was posted a few hours ago from her newly purchased refurbished phone. The woman hates spending money on herself, no matter how much she makes. It almost makes me want to torture her by spoiling her with a bunch of things she wants, but doesn’t need.
The picture was taken outside by the apartment complex pool. Her deeply amber skin glows, contrasting perfectly with those big tits in her white bathing suit. To top it off, she’s got ruby red lips.
Strength comes from within,the caption reads,even when your haters try to make you look into the barrel of a gun.
The caption is a direct reference to me. As ifI’mthe hater. Like she thinks she’s stronger than me, when we both know I could’ve killed her. I take out the pistol I used on her that day, opening the chamber.
I still have three bullets left.
When I think about the fact that Reggie may be my blackmailer, or at least, workingwithsomeone to blackmail me, then I have to get her to trust me—to let her guard down and spill the truth. And the way to do that isn’t by shoving a gun into her pussy. It’s by giving her a job. Making her think that I trust her. That Irespecther, just like I want her to trust and respect me.
My mind runs south, my cock pulsing in anticipation. I’ll give her a job, all right, but first, we’ve got some history to revisit.
I text her, then observe her shadow in the window, waiting to see her next move.
Chapter9
Reggie
The text beamsup at me like a light at the end of a tunnel, but there’s nothing about Duane’s words that seem hopeful.
Go to the glory hole and tell me your darkest fantasy.
My stomach drops to my toes like I’ve been dropped into an ice bath. It’s been a few days since I’ve heard from him—he tried sending me a new phone through the mail, but I refused the package—and I kept expecting him to show up at the Double Take like he had before, but he never did.
I realize I’ve been waiting for him.
Glory hole?I text quickly.
You know what I’m talking about,he responds.
My stomach twists in knots, knowinghewas the one who fucked the wall so hard that the entire bathroom shook like it was about to collapse. It was hot. So fucking hot knowing that I had that much power over a man when my sugar daddy—a man who paid me to be his ‘girlfriend’ exclusively for years—would never let it go that far. Instead, my sugar daddy liked to get high and use a vibrator on the skinabovemy pussy, because he refused to touch me with his bare hands.
Side by side, my old sugar daddy is harmless compared to Duane. Sure, he’s a condescending asshole, but he’s notphysicallydangerous. Duaneis.And yet, with every passing day, I grow a little more comfortable with Duane. As if he’s someone I could get used to. Someone I wouldn’t mind lying down for. A man who actually knows where my clit is.
But the red flags are still there. Duane may be worth a lot of money, but following him to a seedy gas station off of the highway is a good way to end up buried in a cornfield.
My car is out of commission,I respond.
Sometimes, we can have an off day, can’t we, Hitch? Maybe it was the same with your car,he texts.Why don’t you give it another try?
I raise my brow, then peer out of my bedroom window, expecting to see him standing in the parking lot next to his beat up truck, waiting for me. But save for the usual cars and one of my neighbors coming back from her shift at the grocery store, it’s empty.
I glance in the bathroom mirror, as if that will determine my decision. In sweatpants and a hoodie, I look like I’m ready to crawl into bed, but maybe it’s for the best. It’s not like Duane gave me instructions to be my sexiest for the glory hole, and besides, it’ll be easier to escape if I’m in clothes I can actually run in. I pull on my sneakers, lock the front door, and jog over to my car.
I drop into the driver’s seat and turn the key; the car roars to life like it’s got a brand new engine. A low hum shoots through my stomach, thinking of what this means.
Could Duane have fixed my car? Would he do something like that?
No, that’s stupid. There’s no evidence of a break in. He couldn’t get into my car without me knowing.
Maybe my carwashaving an off day.
My fingers tap the steering wheel as I drive down the highway I’m familiar with now. Hitchhiking from Oakdale to Stockton wasn’t what I wanted to do, but the night I left my sugar daddy, I was so pissed that I just left. I didn’t think about the repercussions. I only thought about how I could show that asshole that I could survive,and thrive,without him, even if that meant walking down a road by myself in the middle of the night.
I pull into the gas station and search for Duane’s truck, but I don’t see his truck anywhere.
Inside, the gas station convenience store is well lit to the point of being eerie, like the building has an awareness, knowing the depraved behavior hiding in the back. No one is at the cash register, but in the corner, I see a red light coming from a surveillance camera. Relief flows through me, knowing that the security monitors have seen me here. If Duane tries to kill me tonight, at least there will be video proof of my trail.
