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TWENTY TWO
Huling Na-update:
2025-05-03 06:50:57
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WRECK ME QUIETLY TWENTY THREE
SAMANTHAThe sound of the water running in the bath was the only thing that filled the room, soft and rhythmic, as I sat on the edge of the tub, Mason's hands now roaming freely over my body.He didn’t say a word. His touch was commanding, as if he knew exactly what he wanted from me—what we both needed.I was still breathing heavily from the moment before, my body flushed with heat, but that wasn’t enough. I needed more of him. I always did.He stood between my legs, his hands slowly trailing up from my thighs, taking his time as though every inch of skin he touched mattered.I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back against the cold marble of the sink, feeling the heat of his hands on me as though it was the only thing grounding me in this moment.“You feel good,” he said, his voice low and dark, thick with desire.I opened my eyes to meet his gaze, searching for something in them, anything that would break this tension between us, but all I saw was hunger.His lips parted, and be
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-03WRECK ME QUIETLY HI THERE!!!
Author’s NoteHi, lovely reader.I want to take a moment to just breathe with you.If you’ve made it to this chapter—if you’ve followed Samantha and Mason’s journey this far—thank you.Not just for reading, but for feeling. For understanding the slow burn, the frustration, the tension that sits heavy in the chest.For craving that look that took too long, for hoping he’d say something he never does, and for staying through the silence in between.You didn’t just read this story. You lived it.And that means more to me than I can ever put into words.This story has always been more than just a steamy fling or two flawed people tangled in sheets and shadows.It’s about all the things they don’t say.The spaces between their bodies where words are too risky. It’s about heartbreak wrapped in desire. About a woman who wants more but knows she shouldn’t ask. About a man who gives her everything with his touch—but nothing with his heart.That’s the kind of love that haunts.That’s the kind o
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-03WRECK ME QUIETLY TWENTY FOUR
MASONShe was asleep.Breathing soft, cheek pressed into the pillow like she trusted the world not to break her. My world. Fucking hell.I sat up slowly, the sheet falling off my chest. The room was too warm, too quiet. Her perfume still clung to the air—vanilla and sex. And peace. The kind of peace I didn’t deserve.What the fuck was I doing?I swung my legs off the bed, pressing my hands to my face. I felt like I was splitting open.My heart raced, and not in a good way. Not in the way she made it race when she laughed, or when she whispered my name with that tiny, breathless voice.This was different. Ugly. Fast.I stood. Found my shirt on the floor and yanked it on like it had offended me. My jeans followed. Wallet in my back pocket. I glanced at her again—still out cold.God, she looked so soft.I pulled out a stack of bills and dropped them on the dresser. My chest twisted. I just… I didn’t know what else to do.I couldn’t be here when she woke up. I couldn’t let her think this m
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-04WRECK ME QUIETLY TWENTY FIVE
SAMANTHASomeone tapped my shoulder. Soft at first. Then again, firmer.I stirred, groggy, muscles sore in places I didn’t expect. My body ached in that good, heavy way. I reached for the sheets, curling them tighter around me.Then I saw her.The same woman who’d shown me the room last night. Neat uniform. Kind face. Polite, but distant.“Ma’am,” she said gently. “Mr. Carter said to wake you by 5:20. He wants you checked out before six.”I blinked. “What?”She gave a small, apologetic smile. “Your driver will be waiting downstairs.”My mouth was dry. My heart thudded slow but hard.“Did he leave?”“Yes, ma’am. Around four.”No note. No goodbye. Nothing.I sat up slowly, pressing the heel of my palm to my forehead.He was gone.“Okay,” I whispered. “Thanks.”She nodded and stepped back, closing the door behind her without another word.I sat there for a moment, listening to the silence. It was deafening. The room didn’t smell like him anymore. Just hotel soap and leftover perfume.I s
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-04WRECK ME QUIETLY TWENTY SIX
SAMANTHAPain.That’s what I woke up to.A dull, pounding headache that throbbed behind my eyes like a cruel reminder of everything I cried out all morning.My skin still felt tight and sore from all the tears, my body heavy like I’d run a marathon through hell.I blinked, eyes puffy, mouth dry. My throat ached.For a moment, I just lay there, wrapped in the silence of Macey’s guest room, trying to breathe without falling apart again.Then… I smelt something weird.Warm. Savory. Comforting.What the hell?I sat up slowly, wincing at the headache’s kick. “No freaking way,” I whispered.That smell… was someone cooking?I rubbed my temples and glanced at the door. I was still in the same gray shorts and wrinkled tee, hair in the same lazy ponytail.“Macey can’t even boil an egg,” I muttered, dragging myself out of bed. “She once caught cereal on fire.”I groaned as my bare feet hit the cold floorWith slow steps, I padded down the hall, following the scent like some sad little ghost.I s
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-04WRECK ME QUIETLY Author’s Note – Thank You From the Bottom of My Heart
🌸 Author’s Note – Thank You From the Bottom of My Heart 🌸I woke up this morning to see that Wreck Me Quietly had been added to 12 readers' libraries overnight.Twelve. That might not sound like much to some people, but to me… it’s everything.I just sat there, staring at the screen, holding my breath like I was afraid it would disappear. I don’t think anyone truly understands what it means to have your words, your late-night thoughts, your heartbreaks disguised as fiction, and your characters who mean the world to you noticed, seen, and read by strangers who chose to stay.I want to say thank you.Thank you for giving this story a chance. Thank you for clicking “add to library” even if you didn’t know where Samantha’s journey would take you.Thank you for allowing me, a writer sitting behind a screen somewhere in the world, to share a piece of my heart with you.When I first started Wreck Me Quietly, I didn’t know where it would go. I didn’t have a perfect outline or a solid plan. I
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-04WRECK ME QUIETLY TWENTY SEVEN
SAMANTHAI applied the lipstick across my bottom lip, slowly as I prepared for the day. I pressed my lips together, then studied myself in the mirror. My face didn’t give anything away, good.I tugged at the neckline of my black top. It dipped just enough. My jeans clung to my hips like they’d been stitched onto me. Gold hoops swayed lightly as I tilted my head and reached for my perfume.A single spritz behind my ear.“If I have to see him today,” I muttered to my reflection, “I won’t let him see me looking depressed.”Keys. Bag. Lipstick in purse. Check.By the time I reached campus, the sun was out, and my sunglasses were on. People stared, some smiled, a few whispered.I walked like I owned the damn place because today, I needed to feel like I did. Even if I was barely holding it together underneath.I had Fashion Retail Management and Luxury Branding first thing. God bless my schedule for not putting me in Liam or Macey’s orbit until noon.Ms. Carson stood in her usual spot at th
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-04WRECK ME QUIETLY TWENTY EIGHT
SAMANTHALiam’s kiss still tingled on my lips.But my stomach was in knots as I drove home. One hand on the wheel, the other tapping restlessly against my thigh.“What the hell did I just do?” I muttered, eyes fixed on the quiet road ahead.The windows were down, and the night air kissed my skin, letting me know I wasn’t dreaming.Twice now.Once could’ve been a slip. A heat-of-the-moment thing. But twice?I inhaled sharply, trying to steady my thoughts. The city lights blurred past like the mess in my head.“Why the hell did I ask if he loved me?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the soft hum of the engine. “I’m so stupid.”And Mason’s text?It sat in my back pocket like a ghost. Haunting. Mocking.“We both know he can’t match your pace.”I gripped the wheel tighter.“No,” I said out loud. “Mason doesn’t get to say that. Not after kissing her this morning.”My heart fluttered, then thudded. Confused.“What are you doing, Sam?” I asked myself, my voice gentler this
Huling Na-update : 2025-05-05
Pinakabagong kabanata
WRECK ME QUIETLY FORTY TWO
SAMANTHAI know what you’re thinking.How foolish can she be?Trust me—I’ve thought it, too. Screamed it at myself, actually. In the mirror. In the shower. Into my pillow at 3 a.m.But this... whatever it is between me and Mason?It’s not normal.It’s not safe.It’s not healthy.It’s obsession.And I’m the idiot who keeps chasing it like it won’t set me on fire.The past week has been hell.He ghosted me. No texts. No calls. Not even one of those half-assed “thinking of you” emojis he used to send when he was pretending not to care too much. Just silence.And I hate how much I noticed it.How I kept checking my phone like it might suddenly ring.Like it might light up and show me his name.God.I’m pathetic.“I’m fine,” I told my best friend, even though my chest ached like he’d put his hands around it and squeezed.I lied through my teeth—said I was over him. Macey still believes I’ve not moved on from the holiday romance I had.Said I deleted his number.I didn’t.I stared at it ins
WRECK ME QUIETLY AUTHOR'S NOTE
To my ride-or-die readers...If you’ve made it this far in Samantha and Mason’s story, let me say this loud and clear: I love you. I appreciate you. You are the reason I keep writing.This story wasn’t always easy to write. Emotionally? It gutted me. Romantically? It consumed me. And creatively? It tested every part of me.But then I’d see a comment. A message. A view.And for a while, it kept me going. I was sitting at 75 views a day. Slowly growing. Slowly building.It wasn’t perfect, but it felt like momentum—like this little world I’d built was finally reaching people who felt it the way I did.Then came GoodNovel’s algorithm shift.Suddenly, my story dropped from 75 views a day… to 4.Four.And I’ll be honest—those few days crushed me. I stared at my screen wondering, What’s the point? I felt invisible. Like maybe I wasn’t good enough. Maybe this story wasn’t good enough. Maybe all those nights I stayed up writing scenes that made my chest ache and my heart race… meant nothing.B
WRECK ME QUIETLY FOURTY ONE
MASONI skated like I was trying to outrun my own goddamn thoughts.The second I was back on the ice, Coach blew the whistle, and drills started. I didn’t speak. Didn’t joke. Didn’t breathe right.I just hit.Hard.Every puck I launched cracked against the boards like a gunshot. Every turn I took was sharper than it needed to be. I played like I was chasing something that wouldn’t stop moving.Or maybe like it was chasing me.“Damn, Mase!” Tyler shouted, ducking when one of my slapshots rebounded too fast. “You good, bro?”I didn’t answer.I was not good.I was wrecked.My blood was still boiling. My hand still twitched from gripping my phone too tight. And I couldn’t stop seeing her in that red lace, half-dressed in temptation and staring straight at me like she owned my soul.She fucking did.And now I was just trying to survive forty minutes of practice without losing my shit in front of the team.Another shot. Too hard. It hit the net and bounced out with enough force to make the
WRECK ME QUIETLY FOURTY
MASONThe lounge smelled like sweat!!Practice was starting in ten. Everyone was wired. A month out from playoffs, and every guy in the room was either vibrating with nerves or pretending not to care.I sat on the bench, half-listening to the usual shit-talk.“Bet you miss again today, Collins,” Jake was saying. “Your slapshot couldn’t knock over a toddler.”“Keep dreaming, man,” Collins fired back. “At least I don’t skate like I’m drunk.”They laughed. I didn’t. I wasn’t in the mood.Then my phone buzzed.I almost didn’t look.But then I saw the name.Samantha.One notification. One photo.I tapped it open.And stopped breathing.Red lace. Garter belts. A full view of the body I hadn’t touched in days—her thighs, her waist, her. That look in her eyes. Fucking hell.I got hard immediately.Jaw clenched. Blood boiling.“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, angling the screen away before any of the guys could see.Jake leaned over. “Who’s got you looking like that?”“Mind your business.”“Oh shit
WRECK ME QUIETLY FOURTY
MASONThe lounge smelled like sweat!!Practice was starting in ten. Everyone was wired. A month out from playoffs, and every guy in the room was either vibrating with nerves or pretending not to care.I sat on the bench, half-listening to the usual shit-talk.“Bet you miss again today, Collins,” Jake was saying. “Your slapshot couldn’t knock over a toddler.”“Keep dreaming, man,” Collins fired back. “At least I don’t skate like I’m drunk.”They laughed. I didn’t. I wasn’t in the mood.Then my phone buzzed.I almost didn’t look.But then I saw the name.Samantha.One notification. One photo.I tapped it open.And stopped breathing.Red lace. Garter belts. A full view of the body I hadn’t touched in days—her thighs, her waist, her. That look in her eyes. Fucking hell.I got hard immediately.Jaw clenched. Blood boiling.“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, angling the screen away before any of the guys could see.Jake leaned over. “Who’s got you looking like that?”“Mind your business.”“Oh shit
WRECK ME QUIETLY THIRTY NINE
SAMANTHA“Hello, Angel.”What the hell?I stopped walking. Right there in the hallway, just outside my professor’s office.He called me angel.After eight days of silence. Eight days of pretending I didn’t exist. Eight days of ghosting me like I was just some side chick who got too attached.And now—now he wanted to pretend none of it happened?I clenched the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.Who even texts like that?Like the world didn’t stop spinning when he left me on read. Like I didn’t cry myself to sleep three nights in a row.Like I didn’t see him laughing with Audrey—her lipstick on his mouth, her nails on his chest. Her smirk.I swallowed the knot in my throat.No.I wasn’t doing this again.I didn’t open the message. I didn’t type back. I was not ready for Mason’s stress.Before I could take two steps, a hand wrapped around my arm and yanked me sideways, right into the empty corridor beside the stairwell.“Mason?” I gasped, stumbling as I whipped around. “What the act
WRECK ME QUIETLY THIRTY EIGHT
SAMANTHAHe ghosted me.He actually ghosted me.I paced my apartment like a crazy person, bare feet slapping against the cold floor, my phone clenched tight in my hand.A week. Seven full days. No text. No call. Not even a glance on campus. Just... silence.I stopped pacing long enough to glare at my phone. Still nothing."This is worse than when he used to pay me to sleep with him," I muttered, hurling the phone onto my bed like it had personally offended me.At least that had rules. At least I knew where I stood—on my back, on my knees, whatever. But this? This had felt like more. He made it feel like more. And now?Crickets.I dropped onto the edge of my bed, stomach knotted. My chest ached, and not the romantic, swoony kind. The kind that felt like something had hollowed me out and left the shell behind.The following day was supposed to be just another day. Another lecture. Another headache.Three hours of nonstop academic torture and all I wanted was coffee, a nap, and maybe fiv
WRECK ME QUIETLY THIRTY SEVEN
MASONI gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles white.The engine purred, ready to move, but I just sat there—her taste still on my tongue, her scent clinging to my skin like heat I couldn’t shake. My hands still remembered every curve. Every sound she made.Fuck.I didn’t want to go. Not yet. Maybe never.But Audrey was waiting. And I was still that guy, still halfway in, halfway out.My phone buzzed again. Audrey.I ignored it.I could not even give Sam a goodbye kiss.The way she didn’t say anything when I left. She didn’t have to.I slammed my hand against the steering wheel once. Quietly.“Get it together,” I muttered and drove away in silence.The moment I stepped into the apartment, I felt it.That shift. That kind of silence that didn’t feel peaceful. It felt like something waiting to explode.Audrey sat curled on the floor near the couch, her eyes swollen and red, mascara smeared down her cheeks. She didn’t look at me. She didn’t have to.“Don’t even ask,” she whispered
WRECK ME QUIETLY THIRTY SIX
SAMANTHAWe spent the entire day wrapped in each other, laughing, kissing, eating, sleeping, and making love like we couldn't get enough.The world outside ceased to exist; it was just us in our little bubble.We didn’t leave the bed.The sheets were damp with sweat, twisted around our legs like restraints, like reminders of how far we’d gone. How far we kept going.His mouth moved over me like he was trying to erase every man before him—and maybe even himself. He kissed me like he hated me for how much he wanted me. And I let him.“You’re still sore,” he said, dragging his thumb across the bruise on my thigh.“I’m fine.”He smirked, dark and slow. “I like you like this.”“Like what?”“Messy. Ruined. Mine.”I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve said something.But I didn’t.He moved over me again, eyes locked to mine as he pushed in, deeper than before, slower. Crueler.There was something unhinged in the way he held my wrists down, not rough, but enough. Enough to remind me who was in
