Dead of Summer

“You are not fucking me while I’m asleep,” I moan, throwing my head back against the pillows when a wave of pleasure courses up my spine. “Fuck, Kayde, there are names for that.”

“Yeah,” he agrees enthusiastically, and maybe a bit savagely. “Somnophilia. We can call it somno for short, though. Not quite as much of a mouthful. And you haven’t been completely asleep. You’re just so delightfully high that you’ve been drifting. It’s adorable.” He thrusts into me, hard, before the rest of his words really sink in, and my hands twist in the sheets under me.

I’m still high, so it can’t have been that long since I fell asleep. An hour, maybe two at most. Any longer and the high would be fading more than it currently has. “Fuck,” I gasp, my fingers tightening in the sheets. I realize my body is oversensitive, almost sore, and my muscles feel worn out.

How long has he been doing this?

“How long—how many—” I can’t phrase the question right, and I pant through my parted lips, clenching my eyes shut again.

“On and off for maybe twenty minutes.” His reply is sharp and heated; he sounds so proud of himself as he fucks into me, though I can tell he’s closer than he’s trying to let me believe. “I played with you for a while. Had you come on my fingers and you were so fucking cute. Whining and writhing. I think you begged me for more. And you said my name. Wanna make you say it again.”

“Maybe I got you confused with someone else.” I can’t help the quip, and Kayde smacks my hip hard enough to make it sting, pulling a soft yelp from me.

“Maybe you didn’t,” he growls. His tone is different, almost frustrated. Though this isn’t anything worse than telling him I wish he’d die.

So why does he care who I think of when he’s fucking me?

Any other words are lost, locked behind my teeth when he unexpectedly tips me over the edge, dragging a gasp from my throat when his fingers lock just under my jaw. Kayde doesn’t squeeze. He doesn’t cut off my air whatsoever. He just holds my throat in a possessive, almost cradling grip while I come.

“Oh God, that hurts a little,” I whine, bringing my thighs up so my knees press against his sides. “Fuck, Kayde?—”

“Well, you have come at least three times tonight,” my psychopath points out lazily, still fucking me through my too-bright orgasm. “So yeah, it probably feels like it’s too much, sweetheart. But you’re still doing so good for me. Even when you were out of it, your pussy gripped me so tight. Do you know how much your body wants me here? How much you’re clearly begging me to fuck you full of cum and keep you in my bed?”

“Have to get up in the morning,” I remind him, staring up at him from under my lashes. “People will come looking and get suspicious.”

His grip on my throat twitches, tightening just slightly as a low, purring growl fills my ears. No one has ever growled while fucking me before, and it’s hard not to think that I could get used to the possessive sound that makes my thighs twitch around him.

If only it wasn’t coming from Kayde Lane.

I feel him stiffen, and his movements become less controlled. Then his breathing picks up seconds before he slams into me, hips flush against my body as he comes and stays there, not making any noise apart from his harsh breathing as his fingers flex around my neck.

“Didn’t know you were into choking,” I mutter at last, needing to break the too-intimate quiet. The stupid part of me doesn’t want to piss him off. That part of me wants to drag him down and kiss him, like I would with a guy I actually like. That part of me wants to keep him inside of me and pull him back under the blankets to sleep the rest of the night away.

But that part of me is definitely still high, and stupid as hell.

“I’m not choking you,” Kayde chuckles darkly, moving back on his knees and leaving me empty. I can feel the wetness that stains my thighs, and I’m sure that I’m an absolute mess.

The touch of a damp rag rasping against my inner thighs makes me jump. But Kayde just shushes me softly and presses one hand against my stomach, holding me there as he cleans me up in the dark. “I do like it, though. Maybe tomorrow night I’ll show you how much fun it is to come when you’re almost knocked out from oxygen deprivation.

“I’ll pass.”

“Sure you will.” It takes a few more minutes for him to finish up, and afterward he falls back down on the bed beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist before I can move away. I’m still high enough that sleep is absolutely a possibility, and I sigh, defeated, instead of trying to pry him off of me.

“You done then?” I ask, trying to sound flippant about it. Kayde just chuckles, and curls closer against me, kissing my shoulder almost sweetly.

“Yeah, sweetheart. We’re done for now. Go back to sleep, okay? I’ll try my hardest not to play with you when you start making those cute little whimpers in your sleep.”

If the lights were on, it would be adamantly clear how hard I’m blushing. As it is, I turn my face away from him, closing my eyes hard. “Whatever,” is all I can mutter, and I pull the blankets higher over my body, feeling vulnerable without any clothes on.

Not that it stops me from falling back into a deep, dreamless sleep that I question how I’ll wake up from.

Staring at the bright, sparkling water of the river that feeds into the lake has never done anything for me.

Especially when I’m in a kayak.

Not being the greatest kayaker known to Camp Crestview, I can never help the prickles of anxiety that go through me whenever we take the kids along the river for a few miles. Naturally, the day is split up for different cabins to kayak without overwhelming the counselors with their sheer numbers, but there’s something different this year.

Something I don’t like.