Dead of Summer

Chapter 18

Kayde’s gaze doesn’t waver. He pretends not to notice my squirming, though he keeps his hand on my throat, thumb stroking over my collarbone like he’s trying to reassure me through this. Though, if that’s the case, someone should tell him he could do it without the threat of me being strangled. I blink, refocusing, and breathe in a deep, unsteady breath.

“I hope it doesn’t offend you, but I was more afraid of him than I’ve ever been of you,” I admit, still unable to hold completely still. But I hadn’t been able to back then, either. I would writhe and twist in my dad’s grip, trying however I could to get away from him.

“Tell me what he did to you,” Kayde murmurs, not rising to the barb. His voice is unreadable, and even his face provides nothing for me to go off of. “Tell me why you’re so afraid of him.” Present tense, not past. But I don’t think it’s a slip up on his part.

“He started with my mom.” Something about being here makes it a little easier, in a place that feels disconnected from the outside world. The mix of orange and white light blends together on the wall behind Kayde, and I wish to God I was still wearing my shirt, at least. “He started small. Just little things he’d say to her. He never hit my mom,” I’m quick to clarify, like Kayde gives a damn.

“He hit you.” It’s a statement, and Kayde’s voice is still just so strange.

“He hit me a lot,” I agree, my words a whisper. No one else can hear us, but that doesn’t change the fact I can’t say this any louder. “God, he was so mean when he drank. And after he drank. And when he was upset with Mom. She didn’t know at first. He hit me where the bruises would be under my clothes and told me I couldn’t tell anyone or he’d hurt Mom, too.”

“And you didn’t, because you have a self sacrifice kink and a savior complex.” His mumble seems irritated, and I see him roll his eyes. “God, Summer. I thought this was a onetime thing.”

“Guess not,” I snort. “Kinsley said something about that too when I took the blame for a classmate’s fuck up in high school choir.”

“Why’d you take the blame?”

I shift, leaning my weight to one side and resting my face against my upper arm as I survey his face. “Because she was crying,” I say at last, getting only a look of incredulous disdain in response.

But he doesn’t say anything. Not that his expression doesn’t say it for him. So I take a breath and go on, feeling more and more uncomfortable with every word. “It got worse. He got worse. He stopped caring if people noticed. I even told my third-grade teacher. She…” I swallow hard and duck my head, no longer able to look at him. “Well, she tried to help. Didn’t go so well. But Mom found out soon after that. She confronted him about it. He…”

I’m not afraid of him anymore.

I refuse to be afraid of my father now, when he’s far away and hopefully dead as hell. Still, I won’t hold my breath on that point. Dad’s always had the tenacity of a cockroach.

“He grabbed me in front of her. Demanded to know if I’d told my teacher. Mom tried to stop him, but he had a glass. He shattered it.” I try to move my arm to show him, but realize I can’t when my arm just jerks against the rope. “Well, he shattered it on my face. Opposite cheek. There are a few tiny scars, but they’re not really noticeable.”

“Let me see?” Kayde moves, releasing my throat and tipping my chin up so he can look at me in the light. He turns my head so my prominent scar is away from him, and I’m expecting him to announce at any moment the scars aren’t visible. I only really see them because I have to look at myself every morning and I know exactly what I’m looking for.

“They’re like stars on your cheek,” Kayde breathes, prompting a wave of shock to shiver up my spine.

“You can see them?”

“Now that I know what I’m looking for, sweetheart.” His free hand strokes along my cheek, touching my skin in four different places. “Looks like I could map out a constellation right here.”

I’m clearly in need of mental assistance, because that sounds way too affectionate to come from Kayde. Especially regarding me and my scars. “When did he do this?” His hand moves, and he so gently strokes along the scar that forces a separation into my brow.

“The same time.” The words leave me hastily. This is my least favorite part. Especially here, where I can’t hide from him or pace or curl in on myself like I want. “He took the glass while my mom screamed and tried to stop him. He told me, ‘Summer, don’t you fucking cry. You did this to yourself—’” My words cut off almost involuntarily, my throat closing hard. Everything in me rebels at saying this, when I’ve never, ever explained it this clearly out loud. Not even to my therapist.

“That’s enough for tonight, baby girl.” Kayde must read me and see I can’t go any further than this. “You did what I asked, even if you are still in so much trouble.” His smirk turns somewhat rueful, and he strokes his fingers down my cheeks, following the path the tears that I blink back would likely take. “If something’s too much for you tonight, say your safe word. You can use it once and I’ll stop. We’ll change what we’re doing. Understand?” He cradles my face while I nod, back to the shifting and wishing I could pull free of these ropes.

“Why am I in trouble again?” I breathe, my eyes wide. “Pretty sure I didn’t do…much wrong.”

“Oh?” His brow arcs incredulously. “You don’t think so? Holding on to that knife and not giving it to me when I asked?” He scoffs. “Babe, I gave you so many chances to just give me the fucking blade, but not you. Not you, Summer.” His hand finds my throat again, and he crowds me as his fingers slip under my jaw to press tight against my pulse point.

A whimper leaves my throat, and my hands tug on the ropes again, twinging enough that I know I’m going to have rope burn in the morning. “Will it help if I apologize?”

“Depends,” Kayde hums, leaning close enough that our lips brush when he adds, “Will you mean it?”

But my apologetic, slow-spreading grin must be the only answer he needs, because Kayde snorts and pushes away from me, his hand remaining on my throat.

“I knew you wouldn’t mean it anyway,” he tells me, his fingers pressing just a bit more tightly. “Have we talked about choking?”

“Doesn’t seem like a very fascinating or deep conversation,” is my quipped reply as I stare at him, still unable to stop my hands from moving like I’m trying to find a weak point in the rope. Though, I know that’s beyond unlikely and I’m not going to find a damn thing.

“Maybe not. But fuck, I want to make you come while you’re on the edge of passing out. When your eyes are all unfocused and you’re barely holding on. Wanna fuck you so I can feel your body fighting me on instinct. Doesn’t that sound?—”

“Horrifying,” I breathe, willing the twisting, squirming feeling of my stomach to be one of fear and not interest. I will not let myself be interested in that with Kayde. Sure, maybe someone else. Maybe someone I’m not still half-convinced is going to murder me.

But not Kayde.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t lie to me,” Kayde purrs, coming close once more. “And you’ve lost your right to give input for tonight, anyway. After you wanting to stab me last night, I don’t feel very sympathetic toward your fears of me. I’ve been so nice, you know?”

“I wouldn’t call you nice?—”

“Pretty patient, too. Especially considering what you make me put up with.”

My brows jerk upward, my mouth falling open with disbelief. “Me?” I hiss, shocked. “You’re talking about me making you put up with shit? Kayde, I don’t know if you just don’t remember, but you were going to slaughter an entire camp full of people!”

“Except you.” He points it out lazily, his fingers loosening from my throat. “Wouldn’t have killed you, like I said.”

“Just traumatized me into the next century.”

“Nah, not that long. A few years maybe. Could’ve made you so dependent on me like that. Could’ve made you love me.” He leans in close to drag his lips up the side of my throat. “You would’ve loved me eventually, you know.”

“You really think so?” I close my eyes hard. “I think I’d rather love the ax you were going to kill them with.”

He pauses with one hand on my waist. For a few long, terrifying moments, all I can hear is my sharp breathing in the small space of the boathouse. His fingers twitch against my skin, hand moving around until he can grip my hip with more force than is probably necessary, but not enough to bruise.

He’s upset with me.A shiver travels down my spine, and considering our closeness, I know for certain that Kayde feels it. There’s no way he can’t.

“Tell you what,” Kayde purrs, his face still pressed to my cheek. “I’m going to give you some free advice from the goodness of my heart.” There is no goodness in his heart, but this time, I don’t open my mouth to poke the proverbial bear any harder. He nips at the line of my jaw, and sinks lower to mouth the side of my neck teasingly. “You really need to work on insulting me. Or anyone. You’re so good at being so mouthy, aren’t you, sweetheart? You just say whatever comes to your mind. But then you regret it. You look at me with horror in those pretty eyes, or you shiver like you think I’ll slap you. If you’re going to insult me, if you’re going to mouth off to anyone…”

He tilts his head back up to whisper in my ear, “Then you better not give any signs of fear, Summer.” Quick as a snake, he strikes, his teeth sinking into my neck, just over my pulse point.

I can’t help it. I scream. It can’t be as loud as it seems as the sound echoes in the small storage area of the boathouse. “Stop, stop!” I beg, aware of his teeth sinking impossibly deeper, like Kayde is trying to bite my throat clean out. The pain flicks white hot through my brain, and I grip the ropes more tightly as Kayde holds me in place with one hand, the other tangled in my hair. Not that I can really go anywhere.

When he does finally pull away, the burning sting lingers, and Kayde tilts his head up to the light just to fucking grin at me.

And shows off that his normally perfectly white teeth are tinged with pink.

“You—” I jerk my arm, forgetting that I can’t move it properly. “You broke skin? You fucking?—”

He kisses me hard, slamming his lips into mine firmly enough that his teeth click uncomfortably against my own. He nips at my bottom lip, threatening to do the same there as he had to my still-burning throat, before forcing his tongue past my lips so I can taste the coppery bitterness of my blood in his mouth.

“Best way to make sure it leaves a mark,” he purrs finally, pulling away and mouthing down my throat until he comes to the bite once more. I whimper, half over-sensitive and half in fear, but instead of biting down against the wound he’s created, Kayde laps his tongue over it like a wolf trying to get as much blood from a kill that it can.

The comparison only makes me go up on my toes as I seek any escape from the burning, wet, tingling feel of his mouth on my throat. The pain ebbs under his attention, just enough that when he licks over my skin again, the feelings that shoot from that spot aren’t nearly as unpleasant or unbearable as they had been.

But my head starts to spin and I whine again, begging him wordlessly to stop, to give me a fucking minute, at least. Not that Kayde seems to know what that concept is. He kisses down my shoulder, licks just above my collarbone, and peeks up at me with a narrow-eyed, excited look that makes my stomach flip.

“N-no,” I beg, trying to pull away from him. “Don’t bite me like that again, please—” He only looks away as his teeth sink into my skin and I shriek yet again, though the pain is duller this time, not quite so bad, and it occurs to me he isn’t trying to break skin there.

Yet.

The hand in my hair shifts, then leaves completely, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than his mouth. The searing, stinging heat of his attention is all-consuming and has me writhing without much input from my brain as I both try to get away from him and find some semblance of balance in the rope binds he has me in.

I barely even feel it when his fingers first stroke over my folds. It’s teasing, ghostly even; until he does it again with more intent, and this time my whine is something else entirely that I won’t ever admit to making.

Especially with Kayde stroking my clit while he sucks a mark onto my shoulder that won’t fade for days. More than anything, I wish I could move my arms. Though whether that’s so I can push him away and shove him into a wall or drag him closer and bury my fingers in his hair, I’m not sure.

I hate this.

Well, mostly anyway.

Words and pleas and sounds fall from my lips as he bites me, marking me twice more on my left shoulder before moving to my right and starting from the outside in. When he does, he slides two fingers into me, curling them and fucking me on them languidly as he pulls another bruise to the surface of my skin.

“So responsive for me,” he praises, his words appreciative. “So loud. Good thing we won’t be heard out here, right, sweetheart?” Without waiting for an answer, Kayde marks up my right shoulder, then licks over the side of my neck that mirrors where he’d bit me the first time.

I choke off of a breath, eyes wide as he looks at me. “Please don’t,” I beg, chest heaving as I pant and try not to shake, though I’m not doing a very convincing job of it. “Please—” I know what he’s going to do. It’s clear in his eyes and the small smile that curls at his lips.

“Baby girl,” he murmurs, straightening to brush his lips over mine before continuing. “It only hurts for a moment, right? Before you like the ache of it? Don’t tell me I’m wrong. Not when…” He slides a third finger into me, and fucks me with them pointedly for a few seconds, his eyes never leaving mine. “Not when your body is more than willing to tell me how much you love me doing this.”

Closing my eyes hard, I bite off a moan. “I don’t,” I promise, telling myself that he’s just justifying it for his own pleasure. “I don’t like it when you make me bleed.”

“Funny, because that’s my favorite part.” He pauses and reaches up with the hand not currently driving me crazy to sweep my hair back from my face. “Look at me, Summer.”

It takes a moment, but I crack open my eyes to stare at him, though I’m sure I look more like a terrified animal in a trap than anyone remotely enjoying this. “Do you want me to stop?” He says the word pointedly. Reminding me of what I can do tonight, if I want to.

Do you want to skip this? Is what he’s asking. Giving me the chance to use my get out of jail free card.

I open my mouth to say yes. I can’t take him biting me like the first time. Not again. Not when my entire chest and shoulders ache and sting with all the bites he’s lavished against my skin.

But…

My stomach twists as it slams into me what I’m about to say. I should be committed, surely. At the very least, I should seek therapy, because there’s no way I can say I didn’t hate that first bite as much as I should’ve without also admitting I’ve lost my mind in the boathouse tonight.

Somehow, Kayde seems to know what I’m going to say before I do. His eyes narrow, delight and affection shining in them for just a second before they’re chased away by something darker and much less friendly.

“No,” I tell him, and the way it comes out as a challenge is unintentional, probably.

Hopefully.

“Oh, Summer…” His eyes flick down to my throat, then back up to my face. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” This time, he doesn’t surprise me with a quick, sharp bite. No, it’s worse, I think, as he kisses down my jaw, across my throat, until he can lick over the spot over my hammering, desperate pulse.

My fingers tighten again in the ropes over m. For all my false bravado, I can’t help the way my stomach flips and knots itself up or the soft, pleading whimper that leaves my lips unbidden. I don’t know if I’m begging him to do it, or begging him to stop.

I’m also not sure it really matters.

“Shhh, baby,” Kayde murmurs, cradling my face in his free hand. “Gonna be so pretty with my marks on your throat. Think Kins will ask about them? Ask who marked you up like this?” He presses his lips to my throat and adds, “They won’t scar, they’re too shallow. But fuck if that wouldn’t be so hot.”

I barely get a chance to work that thought through my barely working brain. I barely notice that his thumb has found my clit before he’s sinking his teeth—that feel too sharp and too dull at the same time—into my throat, biting down past the pleasant ache and into a white-hot-burn.

This time I keen. I can’t move, and my mind has no idea how to process the pleasure of his fingers fucking me, his thumb rubbing mercilessly over my clit, and worst of all, his teeth in my throat. I swear I can feel when he breaks skin, when his teeth find that extra little bit of give that lets him sink past where he should be forced to stop.

It hurts and burns and I can’t fucking stop making noise as I arch into him, my mind going blank?—

My release hits me harder than if someone had punched me in the nose. It short-circuits my brain and I can feel my thighs tremble as I come on Kayde’s still-thrusting fingers, my entire body seeming to be on the verge of shaking apart in his hold.

But if anything, that only encourages him. He doesn’t release my throat as quickly as he had the first time. He continues to finger me through my orgasm until I can feel the telltale warm wetness of tears creeping down my cheeks. My keening becomes sobs, and it’s then that he finally withdraws just enough, the burn fading just enough so that when he laps over my skin soothingly, a shiver of pleasure mixes with the sharpness of the pain.

Belatedly, I realize he’s talking to me, though it’s a monumental effort to turn my brain back on enough to hear and understand him.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart. Made for me, weren’t you?” He slurs the words against my skin, like he can’t bring himself to pull away. His fingers are moving lazily inside me, his thumb barely twitching against my over-sensitive clit, and I’m grateful. Especially since without the ropes, I doubt I could hold myself up.

He seems to realize it too. His fingers withdraw, and if he ever asks about the low sound of disapproval that escapes me, I’ll deny it on pain of death. Kayde’s arm goes around my waist, supporting me, and he moves just enough that I’m leaning against him, my weight on his chest as he holds me up enough that I’m not hanging my tied arms.

“You like it when I bite you that much?” he rasps against my hair. I can feel him shift and when his other hand goes between us, but I have no idea what he’s doing, since his knuckles only bump against me occasionally. “Fuck, I didn’t think you would. Thought you’d make me stop. Baby girl, you’re making it impossible to do anything else but fuck you.”

“There was something else you wanted?” I groan, my eyes closed where they’re pressed against his shoulder.

“Yeah, absolutely.” His chuckle is low and rueful. “Told you, didn’t I? You were so fucking bad last night and I’m teaching you a lesson. The biting was just the foreplay. I maybe just got…carried away.” When he moves again, I open my eyes, surprised that he’s stepping away from me.

At least, until I see his jeans are unbuttoned and he’s fisting his hard length in a hand that slides lazily along his length.

“Figured there’s nothing better for that than to make you count out loud while I spank you, babe.” His words are just so…easy. So casual, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. But when he grins and shows off his too-white teeth, I can only groan and roll my head back on my shoulders.

“You’re killing me,” I complain, half aware of him circling around behind me. His arm circles my hips, dragging me back against him as far as the ropes will allow.

“Nah,” Kayde denies, resting his chin on my shoulder and turning to kiss my cheek. “If I killed you, that wouldn’t be any fun.” He leans forward, sliding his cock teasingly against my slit once, then twice. When he moves to do it again he shifts, just a little, and this time he presses into me, not stopping until he bottoms out, his thick length filling me up just as perfectly as it had two nights ago.

I can’t help the soft, needy sounds that pour from my lips. Especially when he rolls his hips into me, his rhythm languid and lazy. “Couldn’t kill you, Summer. Couldn’t that first day and now? When I’ve realized I’ve definitely done something right since you’re made so perfect for me? Would never kill you, Summer?—”

“You could talk about something other than killing me if you want,” I manage to say, cutting him off. He reaches up, one hand still around my waist, while the other curls around the base of my throat, pressing against the bites he left and dragging a whimper from my lips.

“What would you like me to talk about?” he hisses, picking up his pace. It feels like he doesn’t have much patience for more teasing tonight. There’s something desperate in his movements, like he needs this just as much as I do.

“The weather.”

“Sweetheart.” The word is more of a growl against my ear than anything else. “So mouthy with me when we’d just gone over that. Are you asking for more, Summer? Are you asking me to hurt you?” I can’t shake my head, not when I’m trapped against his body, with his hand around my throat.

He squeezes his thumb and middle finger, pulling a gasp from me before letting go. “I’m not done with you,” he promises. “You haven’t turned me sweet just yet, I promise. If you’re not begging me to let go with the little air you have left, then I’m not doing it right.”

“Don’t want to?—”

“You don’t know what you want.” He slams his hips into mine, though before I can make a sound, his fingers press tight again, cutting off my air. Black spots dance in my vision, and seconds later he lets go, only to do it again.

And again.

“Stop,” I whimper, jerking hard on my arms. “Can’t breathe, can’t—” My words come to a stop when he presses down hard on the sides of my throat, completely cutting off my air in that one movement.

“That’s the point,” he reminds me, panting. “Your cunt gets so tight when I do this. Did you know that?” He’s taunting me, considering he knows I can’t answer or deny him. “Fuck, but you just love this so much.”

He still isn’t letting go.

I gasp for the air that I need; my lips parted and head swimming. When he finally releases the pressure, I can barely hold myself up. I can barely do anything but breathe and lean against him, fingers curled in the ropes over my head.

Stop,I want to tell him, though no other word even comes to mind. Somehow, my body is responding to him, to this, even though it should be in fear and survival mode.

I shouldn’t want this. Not at all. But it’s hard to focus on anything other than the lightheadedness when he cuts off my air, the blackness, and the way it causes me to want to scream in something other than fear.

“Kayde,” I gasp out his name, aware that my entire body is trembling. “Kayde, please, I’m gonna come. Please let me?—”

He turns my face enough to kiss me hard, his mouth filthy and demanding against mine. He ends it by licking up the tears spilling from my eyes, and my eyes find his wolfish grin seconds before it clicks.

“I know,” he tells me, and cuts off my air again. He shifts, his other hand splayed against my lower stomach so he can drag me back against him as tightly as he can. His thrusts are as brutal as Kayde himself, and I see stars every time he slams into my pussy.

Though, that could also be from the lack of oxygen.

I gasp and writhe, mouth forming begging pleas while fresh tears run down my cheeks, hot on my skin. The black spots return, bringing a fuzzy darkness to the edges of my vision when he still doesn’t let go.

I’m going to die.Or at the very least, pass out. There’s no way I can do this. No way I can stay conscious. I’m going to?—

He releases his hand the moment that I come. My orgasm nearly tears me apart, especially as I draw breath into my screaming, burning lungs. It should hurt and burn and feel all around miserable, yet I’m sure I’ve never come so hard in my fucking life.

It continues, going on as he fucks me through it, and my abused airway finally gets unobstructed airflow. My chest heaves, and seconds later Kayde snarls a curse against my throat, biting down on one of the worst marks and making me cry out as his hips collide sharply with mine one last time.

I swear everything he does just makes me come harder. I hang onto my last bit of thought, my resentment toward the serial killer in my camp, but it’s not enough. Not when my release is dragged out by his, and seems to want to take me down with a vengeance.

“Kayde…” I breathe, something scathing on my tongue.

Only, it never makes it to his ears.