Leia’s POV
The hallway was damp and silent, but I could hear it, water running behind the cracked shower door. Steam curled out into the corridor like a warning.
I didn’t stop, couldn’t. Every step brought the heat higher in my throat.
My fists clenched. I wasn’t cold, I was furious. He was leaning against the wall, shirtless, dripping. Water clung to his collarbones like sweat, his eyes found mine.
That quiet, dangerous stare. Like he knew I was coming.
“You ruin everything,” I spat, voice shaking. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to own me.”
He didn’t flinch, or blink. Just stared, the steam sliding off his skin. I slapped him. Hard. The sound echoed down the empty hall like a shot. “I hate you.”
Still nothing, not a flicker. He lifted his hand and slowly signed: “Then why are you so wet right now?”
My breath hitched. Rage and shame collided somewhere between my ribs. I slapped him again, furious, and desperate, but this time, he caught my wrist.
The next second, I was being pulled through the door.
The water slammed into my skin like a second explosion. The steam was choking. My shirt stuck to me, then ripped under his hands. I stumbled, but he was already yanking down my panties, shoving me back against the slick, tiled wall.
The air burned with heat, and him, and all him. I shoved his chest, but he didn’t budge. Didn’t stop, and neither did I.
“Stop-” I tried, voice trembling.
“Liar,” he growled, low in my ear.
His mouth crashed over mine, and I bit his lip. He groaned, then bit back harder. His hands were everywhere, rough, fast, bruising.
Fingers digging into my thighs as he lifted me like I weighed nothing. My back slapped a wet tile, my legs wrapped around him on instinct.
His cock shoved against my entrance. No teasing or pause. When he thrust into me, I screamed. My whole body arched, slick and burning.
The stretch was brutal and perfect. He filled every inch, every thought, every scream I swallowed into his mouth.
“You think I care what you hate?” he growled. “Say my name.”
“No.” He slammed into me harder.
“Say it.”
“No-” His hand gripped my throat. Not tight, just enough to pin, and command.
“Say it while you come,” he whispered, voice gravel and heat. “Say it, or I’ll fuck you until you can’t speak at all.”
My hips jerked against him, I hated how badly I wanted that. I wanted him, this. He was a storm, no rhythm, just ruin.
His pace turned punishing. Water poured over us both. My body couldn’t keep up, every thrust sent sparks behind my eyes. My nails raked down his back, his skin slick and hot beneath my fingertips.
He groaned when I bit into his shoulder, snarling like an animal.
“Ezra,” I gasped, finally, shame pooling with arousal. He slammed deeper. His hand slid between us, fingers rubbing viciously against my clit.
“Come,” he said, voice a snarl. “Come on my cock. Say my fucking name.” I shattered.
“Ezra!” I screamed, thighs clamping, body convulsing around him.
The orgasm ripped through me so hard I saw white. My voice cracked and my mind went blank. I came sobbing, clawing at him, desperate for more and too much at once.
He didn’t stop. He kept fucking me through it, hard, raw, relentless, until his own release slammed into me with a grunt.
His teeth sank into my neck as he came, hot and pulsing, hips jerking until he was empty and panting.
And when it’s done… I collapsed against him. Sobbing, gasping, and shaking like the crash after a fever.
He doesn’t move, just holds me there, buried deep inside, water pounding over both of us. Then he leans in and kisses my temple. Soft, almost reverent. Like I wasn’t just his ruin, like I was something he worshipped.
There were no words exchanged between us. The only sound to be heard is the hiss of water, his heartbeat against mine, and my ragged breaths. And then I whisper, raw and completely ruined.
“Don’t ever stop talking to me.”