Left Behind

Author's note: This was written for the 2020 Literotica 750-word Project. It's short on purpose. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

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"Here are your whip and handcuffs back." Amber leaned against the frame of my apartment door, holding out the offensive items.

"Uh, hi. Thanks." My brother had given them as a gag years before 'to spice up my love life.' Some gag: he knew I had no love life then.

"Technically, it's a cat-o'-nine-tails, not a whip."

"Whatevs," Amber shrugged—her infuriating go-to response when she didn't understand something or, far more often, just didn't care.

Her clinging leopard-print top emphasized her stellar tits, showing too much cleavage. Her ragged cut-offs exposing her lower ass cheeks. Her bleached hair showed dark roots along the part.

"Need to get my crack tended to, huh?" Amber always quipped whenever I pointed it out.

She peered around me. "So, place cleared out?"

"Movers just left."

She pushed past like she owned the place. Like always. Like the first time she introduced herself as my across-the-hall neighbor, trailing a smell of cigarettes and that pungent dollar-store perfume.

Spinning around, arms out, she said, "Looks so big now! And echo-ee." She smiled then looked me up and down with her hungry eyes, eyeliner thick as a raccoon. She pouted. I knew what that meant.

"No more, Amber. I told you. And I need to follow behind the movers. Show them where to put things in the condo before Sophia gets there."

"Short leash, huh? And how IS the bride-to-be?"

"Fine, thanks."

She clucked her tongue. "I mean how IS she." Her eyes twinkled.

I tightened my lips. "None of your damn business, Amber."

"So, not great. Just lays there? Or only does missionary with lights off?"

"None of your da—"

"Hey, this stuff is mine!" She was poking in the box on the kitchen counter bar. "Some collection, huh?" She held up a pair of sheer lace panties and leered. I remembered pulling them off her with my teeth.

"That's everything you've ever left here. All clean. Take it. And the handcuffs and whip."

She leaned forward on the counter, pawing through the box. "It's a cat of tails or something. Not a whip, right?" She wriggled her ass, then looked back smugly.

I had her on the floor in seconds. We struggled to work each other's clothes off.

"You hillbilly whore," I growled, groping her, kissing her.

"Rich prick," she countered, lining me up.

"I'm not rich."

"And I ain't a hillbilly."

"I said we weren't doing this ever again."

"So don't." But her hand was on my ass, insisting.

We groaned as we joined. Each time, Amber felt new. Always so exciting and wrong. I fought not to come immediately.

"I hate you," I gasped, driving into her, kissing, pawing.

"No, you don't."

"I— I love you."

She laughed and wrapped around me, arms and legs. "Dummy. Shut up and fuck me."

I never knew which Amber I'd get. Sometimes she was aggressive, knowing, and demanding, leaving me feeling exposed, inadequate, a child. Other times she was demure, needful, and I felt powerful, mysterious, a man. That afternoon on the carpet of my empty apartment, she morphed from one to the other.

"Howdy, neighbor," she greeted me whenever we passed after I first moved in. I'd never seen someone dress so trashy. Weeks later, down in the laundry room, I walked in at 1:00am with basket overflowing. Amber was on a washer waiting for the cycle, smoking despite the signs, wet dark streaks running from her raccoon eyes.

She studied me, sniffled, and then hopped down, her wounded eyes boring into mine. Without a word, she hugged me, trembling like a trapped fawn.

Amber never explained. About anything. She just insisted. That first night was more tender than anything I'd ever known. In the morning, she became her tiger self and the sex was more filthy and ferocious than I'd ever dreamed.

Four years of that roller coaster. Four years of loathing, helpless passion then regret.

I was plowing Amber from behind, her face on the carpet, ass up and hands cuffed when Sophia walked in. Her eyes widened at seeing our savage mating, at the red marks on my chest and on Amber's back from the whip.

"Hon," she said, shaking her head with amusement. "Do you want to bring your playmate home? Looks like you can two show me some things we haven't tried yet. Does she like women too?"

My heart lurched. I drove into Amber and unloaded as she moaned.

Oh, that woman. I couldn't live without her.