Page 14 of A Murderous Crow
I dipped a washcloth into the gently steaming water, soaked it, wrung it out, and covered my hand before working it into her face as though she were a toddler after a birthday party.
She sputtered and batted at my hands ineffectually. It was adorable, really.
“What are you doing?” she demanded sharply, and I chuckled.
“Getting you ready to sleep,” I told her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to sit up before it seemed to dawn on her… “Did you get menaked?”
I laughed, and nodding, said, “I did.”
“I don’t want to be naked,” she said aghast, and I laughed again.
“You won’t be for long,” I promised her.
“What are you doing to me?” she demanded, struggling through her drug-addled confusion.
“Giving you a bath,” I said gently. I didn’t want her to get too riled up.
“I don’t know you,” she whispered, and twisted away, her face flaming. I thought to myself,GHB is supposed to lower inhibitions…and found that her reluctance, even under the influence, was both adorable and intriguing.
“You will,” I promised her. “This is only the beginning.”
She turned to me then, and asked, “What if I don’t want to know you, Corbett Prescott?”
“That’s a good question, Savannah Davenport,” I murmured.
“Kittridge,” she said, and sounded confused. “My name is Savannah Marie Kittridge.”
“Kittridge,” I repeated, rolling the sound of her name across my tongue. “I like that better than Davenport.”
She covered her face with her hands, and her voice, muffled from behind them, said, “Ohhh nooo, why did I tell you that? I wasn’t supposed to tell you that!”
“Your secret is safe with me, Savannah Kittridge. Now tip your head back for me.” It took my hand at the back of her head to get her to trust enough to lie back into it. I held her up and dipped the pitcher I kept under the sink up here to rinse the deep cast-iron tub, into her bathwater, then gently poured it over her head, carefully slicking her hair back from her makeup-free face.
“There you go.” I worked some of my shampoo through her long locks, shifting so I could kneel between the end of the tub and the wall to work the lather through her hair.
She whimpered faintly, and I asked, “Too hard?”
“No, that’s nice,” she whispered, and I wondered if a man had ever washed her hair for her.
I asked, “Anyone ever take care of you like this?”
“Not since my mom, when I was little,” she confessed.
I thought to myself, that was a shame… and then thought, it was a shame she likely wouldn’t remember this at all. I mean, she could, but GHB could be unpredictable in that arena. I’d tried to tell her to take it slow. The bourbon I had laced was some expensive shit that was meant to be sipped, not downed like a shot.
You’ll just have to do it again,I thought.When she’s properly conquered.
I liked the idea of her loose and easy, pliable in my hands and bending to my will while I fucked her.
At this point, I had her trapped, for sure, but it would be awhile before I could break her. She didn’t seem to be the kind of woman to easily break. I wondered what it would take.
After witnessing how hard she’d fought her assailant, I was beginning to think there was more to her. Her confession that Davenport may be some sort of alias led me to believe there was a lot more there that I’d perhaps misjudged about her.
I wasn’t in a hurry to find all her secrets. I was curious now. Could I dig online and do some searches? Sure… but I’d rather she tell me. Running her to ground and capturing her, bending her will to mine sounded like so much more fun, didn’t it?
It did to me.
