She Left My Bed Another Made Hers

I woke up alone.

The spot next to me was cold.

No trace of her skin, no breath on my shoulder, no soft fingers tangled in mine.

My heart kicked into overdrive as I sat up, scanning the room. Maybe she was in the kitchen. Maybe she just needed water.

But no...

The house was silent. Empty.

She was gone.

After four years, I had convinced myself I was over her. Until the library. Until that kiss. And last night...

God, last night tore every lie to pieces.

Now she had slipped away again--just like before.

I dropped back onto the bed, her scent still clinging to the sheets. A mix of wild perfume and dark, warm skin. My pillow still held strands of her hair, and when I closed my eyes, I could hear it all again--her moans, breathless and high, mixing with the sound of my name on her lips as I moved deeper inside her.

And her laugh afterward.

The way she grinned, whispered that she loved it, like we hadn't just shattered a four-year silence.

But now? Regret was creeping in. Not for touching her. Not for tasting her. But for letting her back in.

Was it just a night for her? Was I just closure?

I couldn't stay in that bed any longer. I needed distraction. Movement.

I headed to the kitchen, made breakfast, forced myself into routine. But my phone wouldn't shut up--notifications piling in, none from her. I kept checking, every buzz raising my hopes, every silence slicing them down.

Then came the snaps.

Stella.

That blonde Erasmus girl I met at bachata two weeks ago. Gorgeous, playful, and the kind of dancer who knew exactly how to press her body into yours like it meant something.

I opened her message.

A sultry selfie--eyes looking up, lips just slightly parted, shirt half unzipped. Her black bra barely holding back what I'd already spent hours imagining.

We'd flirted before. Provocative, but playful.

But this one? This was a step past comfort. This was an invitation.

I lit a cigarette, leaned back, and snapped a reply:

"Such a nice bra. I want to take it off."

Seconds later, another photo. Her bra, lying on the table. No words needed.

My pulse was already picking up.

"Now turn the camera around," I messaged. "Let me see what's under it."

A minute passed. Then:

"Why don't you come over tonight? I need help assembling my new bed... Might show you afterward."

With a devil emoji. Of course.

I didn't hesitate.

"What's the point of assembling a bed we're going to break?"

Her reply came fast.

"Oh my GOD. I'm fingering myself right now just thinking about how that bed's gonna sound while you give me backshots."

I smirked, my hand already twitching toward my zipper. But I kept it together. For now.

Then another notification.

Lucy.

High school crush turned long-distance flame. The girl who'd ignored me back then but came crawling back once she saw my new life in the States. Her green eyes had haunted my teenage nights, but I got the last word years later--between her thighs.

Her snap? A shower pic. Steam clinging to the glass, her breasts pressing against it, nipples outlined, teasing.

"Take me back to Kalaja," I replied.

Kalaja. The place we fucked last summer. High on the mountain, overlooking the lake. Her legs wrapped around me, screaming my name into the wind.

Unforgettable.

Two snaps. Two women. Two open doors.

And yet... my mind kept drifting back to Seya.

This time, I had options. I wasn't that broken kid she left behind. And maybe that's why it didn't hurt the same. Still... I needed clarity.

One date. One conversation.

I had to know if that night meant anything--or if I was just a ghost she needed to exorcise.

The rest of the day felt foggy.

Like my body was moving, but my mind was still tangled in her sheets.

I had a table tennis match planned with my buddy Hank. Usually, that game pulls me back into my body. Competitive. Fast. No space for overthinking. And today, I needed that more than ever.

Hank didn't go easy. He never does.

We went back and forth, set after set, each one tighter than the last. Final game, he edged me out by a single point.

Still, the rush felt good. Clean.

My chest was burning from movement, not emotion. And for a few minutes, the name Seya slipped out of my thoughts.

Afterward, I went home to recharge. I had plans.

Stella was waiting.

But the confusion inside me hadn't gone anywhere.

I needed someone to talk to--and there was only one person who knew the full story.

Mom.

She knew how broken I'd been four years ago. She was the only one who'd seen it raw, when I couldn't pretend.

I called her.

Told her we ran into each other. That we kissed. That it brought up more than I expected.

I didn't mention the night. I left that part tucked between the sheets.

She listened. Quiet. Thoughtful. Then she said:

"Sometimes people aren't ready when you are. Maybe she had feelings back then, but couldn't handle them. And maybe now... she can. But if you want to know, you can't rush it. Give it time. Build something new--if it's worth it."

Her voice calmed me in a way nothing else had all day.

She was right. I needed to see Seya again. No pressure. No plans.

Just a moment to feel the truth in her eyes.

But that wasn't tonight.

Tonight, I was going to Stella's.

From the moment I got out of the elevator, I could feel it.

There was heat behind that door.

Not just lust -- anticipation.

I rang the bell.

She opened it wearing a long, oversized shirt... and nothing else. No bra. No panties. Just skin underneath cotton.

I smiled. She leaned in to kiss my cheeks, then lingered at my lips. I grabbed her by the waist and gave her a slow, deep kiss--before landing a firm slap on her ass.

She gasped, then giggled.

But just as I was about to say something filthy, another figure stepped into the hall.

Her roommate.

"Meet Anna," Stella said, biting her lip like she'd set this up on purpose.

I flashed a cool smile. "Nice to meet you."

Anna nodded with a little smirk and disappeared into her room.

We moved to the kitchen. I sat on the counter. She stood in front of me, smirking, teasing.

"I told you I'd be the one to take off your bra," I said. "How dare you come without one?"

Her voice dropped instantly. "I'm sorry, Daddy. Sometimes I'm a bad girl... but I promise I'm still worth keeping."

I grabbed her by the chin, pulled her in, and kissed her slow and hard--then slid my hand around her neck and squeezed gently until her breath hitched.

When I let go, her eyes were glassy, her thighs already pressing together.

She wanted more. So I gave it.

I lifted her onto my hips and walked her to the other room.

The bed? Fully assembled.

So that was her game.

"Oh, so this was the plan all along?" I growled.

She giggled. "Maybe..."

I dropped her onto the mattress, pinned her wrists above her head, and kissed her again--deeper, rougher.

"Bad girls get punished," I said as I unbuckled my belt.

She lay back on the bed, legs parted slightly, breathing fast.

I unbuckled my belt, not breaking eye contact as I slowly slid it free.

"Hands," I commanded.

She raised her arms without hesitation. I bound her wrists behind her back with the belt--tight, but not painful. Just enough to let her feel owned.

"You lied to me about the bed," I said, circling her slowly, letting my fingers graze her inner thighs. "You said you needed help assembling it..."

"I just wanted you here," she whispered.

"And now that I am?"

"I want you to ruin me."

That was all I needed.

I pulled her to the edge of the bed and bent her over, her hands bound tight behind her. She let out a needy gasp as I dragged my hand over her ass, then landed the first slap. She jumped, moaned.

"Keep that mouth quiet unless you're begging," I said.

She tried, but her breath caught again as I slid my cock along the slick heat between her thighs. She was soaked--dripping for it.

I teased her, brushing the head against her folds, rubbing her slowly. Her hips twitched, desperate for more.

"Please," she finally whispered, trembling. "Please just put it in..."

I leaned over her back, lips to her ear.

"I'll put it in when you learn to be patient."

She groaned, thighs trembling. Her body was so responsive, so ready. I could feel the hunger rolling off her in waves.

Another slow drag. Another slap.

She whimpered.

"Please... I'm begging you..."

I slid in slowly, making her feel every inch. She gasped--sharp and high--and arched her back to take more. Her breath shattered.

I gripped her hips and started to move, first slow, then harder. She pushed back against me with each thrust, matching my rhythm, losing herself in the motion.

The sound of skin on skin echoed through the room. Her moans filled the air--soft at first, then louder, wetter, needier.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. Her mouth fell open in a silent cry, then:

"Oh my god, yes... just like that... don't stop."

She was shaking. Wrists tight behind her. Eyes rolling. She was completely mine in that moment, and she knew it.

I didn't stop.

I fucked her harder, my name leaving her lips in broken, breathless bursts. She was dripping down her thighs, her body jerking as I drove deeper.

When I was ready, I pulled out and finished all over her back and ass, watching her arch and moan as the heat hit her skin.

She collapsed on the bed, wrists still bound, legs shaking.

I stood there, heart pounding, taking in the sight of her completely wrecked.

She turned her head slowly, a dazed, wicked smile on her lips.

"You gave me exactly what I needed."

I walked over, undid the belt, and leaned down to kiss her shoulder.

"I always do."

I laid beside her, still breathless, and brushed the damp hair from her cheek.

She smiled without looking at me. "You gonna keep punishing me every time I lie?"

I smirked. "Only when you're this good at it."