Dead of Summer

But I can’t focus on that when he drags the knife along my face, stroking it over my bottom lip and bringing a shiver to my body once again.

“Open your mouth for me.” It’s absolutely not a suggestion—nothing with Kayde ever is—but it still takes me a few tries before I manage to part my lips and unclench my teeth, though that feels like torture in itself.

“Don’t bite down.” There’s a note of warning in his voice, and he sits back enough that he can slip his other hand under my jaw, as if to hold my mouth open. “All you’ll do is cut yourself, Summer. Do you understand me?”

My jerky nod must be enough for him, because he murmurs something that might absolutely be, good girl, before the knife is back to stroking against my bottom lip.

“Stick out your tongue.”

The trembling in my arms increases, and my cheeks feel warm as I do what he’s said. I don’t want to die like this, with a knife between my teeth and Kayde between my thighs, but I also can’t risk saying no to them.

Maybe if he kills me, he’ll still keep his word.

Unfortunately, I can’t exactly ask. The knife moves when I stick my tongue out, and I remain as still as possible when I feel the blade against my tongue, flat side down.

“Lick it clean for me.”

My heart has never beat so fast in my life. I blink, warmth spilling down my face again, and as I finally manage to meet Kayde’s eyes, I run my tongue along the flat of the blade, being careful not to nick myself.

“It’s such a shame, isn’t it?” he asks, turning the knife so I can do the same to the other side. “That you’re so close to the tool that could get you out of this, but you have no chance at all of turning the tables here, sweetheart.” He slides the knife deeper between my lips, ignoring my soft whimper as he traces the curves of my teeth while I remain absolutely still.

I don’t even swallow, though I can feel the saliva building under my tongue.

“Are you going to start drooling for me?” Kayde teases. “All because of a knife?” I hate the feel of it against my teeth, and I shudder when the tip catches lightly against my gum, reminding myself to stay still.

“You’re already crying for me, after all. Might as well let yourself be a complete mess.”

I’m crying?

My hands jerk in the cuffs as I momentarily forget I can’t move them, but some confusion in my eyes must be obvious, because Kayde’s other hand leaves my jaw slowly, moving to the side of my face where the rush of heat against my skin had been obvious moments ago.

“You didn’t know, baby? You didn’t know you were crying for me?” He swipes his thumb through the wetness, and brings it up to show me the glistening of my tears in the light. “It’s so fucking hot, Summer. I love it when you cry for me. You know how much I want to make a fucking mess out of you?”

I whimper, fingers clenched hard against my palms, and he shoots me an apologetic grin. “Not a murdered mess,” he tells me, like that’s a comfort. “Why would I kill you? That would be like throwing out my favorite toy that I’m always playing with. No, that would be such a waste when you’re so fun to play with like this. But maybe…” The knife leaves my mouth, and I click my teeth closed seconds later, hoping to God he’s done.

But of course, I can never be that lucky.

He drags the knife down my chin, twisting it until I can feel it pressed to the place my pulse flutters under my skin.

“I think you’d look good in a little bit of red. I’ll try not to slip, Summer, I really will. But…” He sucks air through his teeth, dragging the blade down further until he’s sitting fully back on his heels. “It’s really hard, you know? You have to be so still for me so I don’t mess up and nick you. But even if I do, you’ll be so quiet for me, right sweetheart?” His eyes dart to the shared wall with his campers, then back to me.

“Right?”

I nod quickly, teeth still locked together. It’s not just the fear of the knife on my tongue again. No, it’s the fear of making noise that will alert someone, and send all of this crashing down in the worst way possible.

I can’t let him hurt anyone.

But the knife causes me to shiver, especially when he traces my collarbones and slides the tip of it along the swell of my breasts.

“If I did…slip,” he goes on, still talking in that mesmerizing tone I can’t block out. “Where should that happen, do you think? Do you want something visible again that you have to hide? It won’t be anything deep. Nothing Liza has to take care of for you. I’ll take good care of anything like that, I promise. Should it be up here?” The knife is back to my sternum, where he traces the divots in my skin.

I close my eyes again, unable to watch him, and this time I’m aware when the tears slide down my temples.

“No, you’re right baby. We don’t want someone asking questions. Darcy would sniff it out if she could see it. What about here?” The knife disappears, only to reappear as he circles my nipple with the edge, pulling a desperate sound from my lips. “What do you think? Would that be too uncomfortable? I promise I’ll take such good care of any slip ups. You wouldn’t mind one, right? As long as I took care of it for you? Just a little bit of blood, a little bit of pain…” He lets the tip dig into my flesh, then drags it down my stomach, leaving a searing path in its wake. When I can’t help but squirm, the knife is snatched away, and a low sound of warning grates in his throat.

“Don’t you move, Summer,” Kayde warns. “I don’t want to cut you unless it’s deliberate.” I hear him shift again, but I’m still too afraid to look at him, even when he lifts my knee until my foot is pressed flat to the bed. His lips find the inside of my knee, and he skims his mouth lightly over my skin.

“What about here? That would be a little less sensitive…” The knife tip comes up to run over my skin, just above where his mouth had teased my skin. “Well, maybe.” The confession prompts him to drag it further up my inner thigh, and as he teases it along the incredibly sensitive skin, I can’t help the sound that leaves me, though it’s still quieter than it could be.