No Strings Attached [SHORT STORY]

No Strings Attached [Tangled Sheets, Tangled Rules]

"You don't lock your doors."

"And you never knock."

He stepped in. Nude. Confident. Dangerous. My pulse skittered.

"We're already fucked, Maya," he said, his tone dark, final. "So let me fuck you properly before we ruin it all."

My chest burned. My body betrayed me. I didn't push him away. Instead, I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him like I hated him for knowing me too well.

The water made everything slippery—his mouth crashing against mine, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me flush to him. My breasts pressed against his chest, my lips bruising under his. His tongue tangled with mine, desperate, hungry, too much.

"Putangina," I gasped against his mouth, the word ripped out of me before I could stop it.

He turned me, my back against the cold tile, his mouth trailing down my neck, sucking bruises I'd have to hide later. His teeth scraped my collarbone and I arched, helpless.

"You drive me insane," he growled into my skin.

"Good," I panted, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body begging before my brain could catch up.

He sank to his knees, steam curling around us, and when his mouth pressed between my thighs, I almost slipped against the tile. His tongue was relentless, flicking, circling, sucking. His hands spread my legs wider, pinning me in place, leaving me nowhere to run.

"Leo—fuck—" my head hit the wall, water dripping down my face, mixing with the tears I didn't even realize slipped free.

My thighs trembled. The pleasure clawed up my spine, unstoppable. "I'm—I'm gonna—"

"Do it," he murmured against me. "Fall apart for me."

And I did. I shattered. My scream echoed against the tiles, bouncing back into my ears, humiliating, raw, too real.

When my vision cleared, I looked down—and he was grinning. The cocky bastard.

"You're so full of yourself," I breathed, chest heaving.

"I've earned it."

My hand shot down, wrapping around his cock, stroking him hard, rough. His jaw clenched, his breath stuttered. "Then show me," I dared.

He hauled me around, bending me forward against the tile, my palms flat on the wall. I felt him behind me—hard, ready, threatening to break me all over again.

"Condom," I whispered, shaky. "Wallet."

He cursed, stepped out dripping wet, then came back, sliding it on fast. My body was already begging, clenching, waiting.

The moment he pushed into me, I gasped so loud it hurt. He stretched me perfectly, painfully, like my body was made to take him.

"Shit," I cried out, nails scraping the tile.

His thrusts were brutal, water splashing, steam thick around us. Every time he slammed into me, a helpless moan ripped out of my throat.

"You love this," he growled in my ear. "You love when I ruin you."

"Yes," I screamed, shameless, my voice breaking. "Harder—please—"

And he gave it to me. Harder. Faster. My body shook with every thrust, my breasts bouncing, my hair plastered to my wet skin. The mix of heat and cold, the steam and the tile, the fire in my veins—it was too much.

His fingers found my clit again and I broke—violent, explosive, my legs buckling, my scream raw enough to rip my throat open.

He followed seconds later, groaning low, his body collapsing against mine, his weight pinning me deliciously to the wall.

For a long moment, we just stood there. Dripping. Wrecked. Silent except for our ragged breaths.

Later, we dried off. I wrapped myself in a towel, trying not to meet his eyes. He sat on the edge of my bed, jeans half on, watching me.

"This can't happen again," I blurted, voice sharper than I meant.

He raised a brow, waiting.

"You stayed the night. You kissed me like it meant something. You're... you're showering here, Leo." My throat tightened around his name. "And that's not what this was supposed to be."

Silence stretched, heavy. My chest ached.

Finally, I crossed my arms, defensive. "You're catching feelings."

And even though he didn't say anything, the look in his eyes was enough to unravel me.

I swallowed hard. My jaw locked. Then, softer than I intended, I whispered—like a confession I didn't want anyone to hear—

"Yes."

My chest caved. My knees almost buckled. And I hated myself for it.

When he left, he kissed my forehead instead of my mouth. No goodbye. No promises. Just silence that said too much.

And when the door clicked shut behind him, my apartment felt colder than it had in months.

Colder than I could handle.