One thing she had been gravely mistaken about, however, was the assumption that she would be able to tame him. Initially, he had followed her lead, obeying her instructions and whims, but in time, his innate rebelliousness began to flare. At one point, she resorted to locking him out on the balcony, stark naked except for a collar around his neck, because he was being difficult and refusing to let her have her way.
"You're staying there until you cooperate," she yelled at him through the sliding glass doors, waving the riding crop in her hands before folding her arms across her bosom.
The smirk on his face gave her mixed feelings as he got down on his knees on the floor, legs parted so that she could see him clearly. Then, he started to touch himself, his argent gaze never leaving her face.
"Oh? What are you up to?" She watched him with interest, not a little turned on by the show he was putting on. But as his movements picked up speed, his eyes narrowing with pleasure, she realised that if she let him come now, she wouldn't have her release; he would likely just scoff and leave, which he had done before, and she would have to sort herself out, which was in some ways more efficient, but not nearly as much fun. He was, essentially, taking himself hostage.
She rapped on the glass sternly. "Stop that."
He ignored her.
"K, stop it!" She smacked the door with the crop.
His mouth twisted momentarily in a snicker before dropping open in a moan, the expression on his face shifting to one of peaking erotic ecstasy as his hand pumped rapidly along his length.
"Oh no you don't!" She hastily unlocked the door and slid it open, but found herself almost immediately being pressed face forward against the balcony barrier, his voice low beside her ear.
"How mean of you, leaving your guest out in the cold like that."
She struggled, shouting, "Keary, let go! We agreed that I would take the lead tonight!"
"No, I don't think so. Not if you're planning to use this." He wrested the riding crop from her hand and tossed it aside. "I've already had too much to deal with tonight. Besides, you're having a good time."
"I'm not!" she snapped, then gasped when she felt his long fingers enter her.
"You sure about that?" His words were soft as he thrust slowly and smoothly into her, then curled and moved such that a slick, wet sound could be heard, even over her responding moans. "Your body's saying otherwise…"
Where did he learn these things? she wondered to herself as they lay entangled and panting afterward. He seemed to always know exactly how to turn the tables, when to fight back and when she really meant it when she said "no". He possessed a sensitivity that she had yet to see in others, even in men twice or triple his age. She pursed her lips.
A pity he's so young.
Fortunately, he knew how to behave himself when she brought him out. It was a win-win situation for them both. She bought him tailored clothing, expensive gifts, and had him join her for meals sometimes, and he provided company, conversation, and a heady sense of satisfaction.
The only caveat to this arrangement, one they had both agreed upon from the very beginning, was that they must never, ever kiss.
...
It was at an unholy hour of a summer midnight when her call came through to him. As his bike sped in the direction of his house, he connected the line.
"Hey E."
"Keary?" Her voice was too soft to be heard over the headset and the roar of the wind in his ears as she mumbled something into the phone. He slowed his bike.
"Sorry, what did you say?"
"Can you come over now?"
He had just finished a job, and had nothing scheduled the next day. "Sure. Be there in a bit."
"Hurry. Please." The call ended.
Nobody stopped him as his bike entered the compound. The staff were now familiar with him, and those on duty greeted him as he walked in. Tonight, however, they seemed tense. When he asked, they looked at each other nervously.
"Sir, Ms Edith, she… Earlier tonight, there were some noises coming from her suite…"
"What noise?"
"She seemed to be shouting at someone, and we heard things being thrown about… This may be out of line, but sir, we're worried for her."
Alarmed, he headed upstairs as quickly as he could. From afar, he could see her sitting on the carpet in the corridor outside the suite. She was hugging her legs to her chest, her face buried in her knees, long hair tumbling loose about her frame. She had always looked younger than her age, but the figure before him looked especially fragile. His heart twisted.
"Edith?" He sprinted toward her. As he passed the open door, he saw the wreck that had been the room. Broken glass was everywhere. The cushions had been ripped. The television was smashed, and the photo frame lay at the base of the wall at which it had been flung.
Keary felt anger boil up past his shock. "Edith, what happened? Who did this to you?"
She raised her head at his voice, and even in the dim light he could see the tear stains on her pale face. At the sight of him, her eyes brimmed.
"Me. It was all me. I'm to blame, for all of it, everything. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry…"
She began sobbing so hard that she couldn't apologise anymore, and all he could do was take her into his arms and hold her as she wept.
...