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If that car hadn't cut in front of her . . . |
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Snarling, she pounded the steering wheel. |
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For a few moments, she considered driving back to the scene of the accident and killing the ones in that car. She'd caught a glimpse of those inside. There'd been three or four in there. She could have a field day. If they were still hanging around. They're probably long gone, she thought. Unless they were hurt. |
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Also, they were strangers. Killing them wouldn't be half as good as killing Buddy and Doug and Lou. Those guys had messed with her. Buddy, for godsake, had raped her. She remembered how she'd wanted to kill him for it even before she escaped from the house and got herself wet again. |
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Her mind went back to the rape. She could feel herself sprawled on the slick bottom of the tub, the hot shower pouring down, Buddy pulling at her buttocks and thrusting into her. The memories took her breath away. She felt heat spreading outward from her center. Her nipples tingled as they pushed against the damp fabric of her T-shirt. She imagined herself reaching up for Buddy, pulling him down against her, sinking her teeth into his throat. Blood spurting down her throat while his cock twitched deep inside her, pumping her full of semen. |
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Trembling, she let out a sigh. |
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That would've been just incredible. |
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She remembered how she'd felt only pain and outrage and shame when Buddy had actually taken her. |
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