Page 37 of Blake

The safehouse felt very different without Blake in it.

Savannah squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the tendrils of worry and fears of abandonment that threatened to suffocate her. Still, she couldn’t help a bubble of anger from surfacing. How could he ignite this fire within her only to leave her vulnerable and exposed?

The scent of their recent coupling filled the air, a musky reminder of her submission. His touch, his dominance, had felt better than she’d dared to imagine. And surrendering to him, truly allowing herself to give up control, to close her eyes and let herself go . . . it was a beautiful feeling. It had felt as though she could truly relax for the first time in her life.

For as long as she could remember, Savannah had been on guard. Sleeping with one eye open, keeping her back to the wall, in a constant state of hyper-alertness. Doing that made her feel both safe and scared all at once.

Now that she had Blake by her side, she felt safe and scared in a different way.

She picked up her sippy cup and took a long drink of warm milk, then she got up from the couch with a sigh. She could still feel Blake’s cum slipping out of her body, trickling down her legs.

She needed to take a wash like he’d asked. It would have been much nicer if he had stayed and washed her like he had said. She could have surrendered control a while longer.

Savvy went into the small bathroom and filled the sink with warm water, then took a cloth and washed herself from head to toe. She was being a good girl for Daddy, and it pleased her to know that he’d be happy with her for doing this. The trouble was, at the same time, she felt that spark of anger igniting in her.

How could he just leave her like this?

And why did she care so much?

Was she angry that she had been left alone, or was she in fact . . . jealous? She wasn’t used to being shut up inside. She wanted to be out there, fighting for justice for Mia, making things happen.

Ugh, it was all so confusing.

As she dried herself, her eyes fell upon the soft onesie draped over a chair in the kitchen. A pang of longing hit her. Snuggling up on the couchdidsound nice. But did she truly want to give in to this new side of herself so easily? Wasn't there value in asserting her independence, even just a little? After all, if her Daddy was going to keep leaving her like this, she needed to be able to look after herself, didn’t she?

With a defiant huff, she bypassed the onesie and instead pulled on her jeans and a t-shirt. Her damp curls brushed against her neck as she tilted her head, considering her reflection in the mirror. The woman who stared back at her was not the same one who'd entered the safehouse days ago. She needed to work out who this new version of herself was.

"Let's see what you're made of, Savannah Sweet," she whispered to her reflection, steeling herself for whatever lay ahead.

Savannah's fingers tightened around the doorknob, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to make her move. She knew this was risky, but she couldn't help herself. The need to explore and prove her independence was too strong.

"Alright, you got this," she whispered, easing open the door and stepping cautiously into the dimly lit hallway.

Her footsteps echoed softly as she navigated her way through the maze-like building, her investigative instincts guiding her toward the university library Special Collections on the top floor.

"Hey, wait up!" a voice called out just as Savannah rounded the corner.

Savannah froze. Had she been caught?

She turned to see a young woman with a heavy stack of books hustling after an older man, who was swiping a keycard to access the special collections area.

Okay, phew. Nobody had seen her. She ducked out of sight behind a bookshelf, and watched intently as the door clicked open, her pulse quickening.

"Thanks, Professor Harrison," the young woman said breathlessly as she slipped through the door. "I forgot my keycard again."

“Not a problem,” chuckled the professor.

As the door began to close, Savannah seized her chance, darting forward and slipping inside. Yes! She made it. She was used to being sneaky in her work as an investigative journalist, and it felt good to know she hadn’t lost her knack.

"Damn, I'm good," she thought, allowing herself a small smile.

Now, she inhaled the musty scent of old books and leather bindings. This place was a treasure trove, packed with ancient texts and rare artifacts that begged for her attention.

She looked over at the librarian, and the other people in here, but none seemed interested in her. Universities were such vast places, she could well have been a student for all they knew. She could even have been a professor!

Her fingers traced the spines of dusty tomes as her mind raced with the secrets they held.

She was particularly drawn to a section on women’s history.

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