Thumper by Marie James

Chapter 30

Thumper

“You’re being stubborn,” Cara snaps.

“Just let me do it myself.” As I say the words, I don’t know if I can actually make it to the bathroom alone, but her hands on me are fixing to make it impossible to avoid other topics of conversation.

“Okay. I’m letting go. Ready?”

“Hold on. Just… hold on.” I don’t put more weight on her but turn my face and rest my chin on the top of her head. “I sure am an asshole.”

“Why is that?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you an asshole?”

“You want a list?” I chuckle, but it’s only to divert her attention because I hadn’t meant to say those words at all.

I’m not about to open my mouth and confess that I just want her touching me, that I want her skin against mine.

“You can use the—”

“I’m not pissing in that fucking bottle again.”

“I don’t mind emptying it. I was a—”

“Nurse’s aide. I remember, but you shouldn’t have to do that kind of shit for me.”

“I don’t min—”

“I’m ready,” I say as I pull my chin from the top of her head and try to stand on my own.

I’ve been back at the clubhouse for about thirty-six hours, and although I’m feeling a little better, these wounds can only heal so fast. Standing to my full height isn’t possible, but I can hobble bent over a little.

“You have the prettiest hair,” I say, swiping away the strands that get tangled in my beard growth.

“You’re just trying to distract me so I won’t help you.”

“Can you leave a little of my dignity in place, please?” I say it to tease, but it comes out on a groan when I move my leg and pain radiates up my shin.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, stepping fully away. I miss the heat of her body immediately and instantly regret insisting on doing this on my own.

“I didn’t—fuck, Cara. I’m not trying to be an asshole. I seriously appreciate all your help. Everything just hurts.” I hate sounding so vulnerable around her, but it’s better than her thinking I’m a complete asshole.

“You’re in pain. I understand. Are you sure you can make it?”

“I think so.”

“If you crumple to the ground, I’m just going to have to leave you there. There’s no way I can get you back up off the floor.”

I could tell her that one of the guys would probably help, but I haven’t seen anyone since Kincaid stopped by a day and a half ago. All the guys are keeping their distance, and I don’t know what to make of it. They probably hate me with a passion, and I wouldn’t blame them, honestly.

“I won’t fall,” I tell her, cocking my head to the side so I can see her pretty face.

Her lips are set in a flat line that says she doesn’t believe me.

“I’ll try not to fall, but if I do, just roll me out of your way. I’ll get up, eventually.”

“That’s not even funny.”

I take another step, putting me only two steps away from the bed and a million and a half it seems between where I am and the bathroom.

“Jesus, fuck,” I groan when my legs threaten to give out.

“Okay, you stubborn man.” She steps back in, her arm under mine, and it makes her just the perfect height to help, seeing as I can’t stand fully. “Let’s get you to the bathroom. I don’t understand why urinat—peeing in a bottle is that big of a deal.”

“Because you shouldn’t have to deal with my piss,” I say on a groan as we start to move across the room. “And don’t tell me you’re used to it. Of all the things I imagined where you are concerned, not once was it dealing with my pee.”

“So?” she says in a way that makes me regret even opening my mouth in the first place. “What exactly have you imagined?”

“Do you really expect me to walk with an erection? This is hard enough as it is. Have a little mercy on me.”

She doesn’t say another word as we make our way to the bathroom at a snail’s pace, and she doesn’t complain about the amount of weight I put on her.

“I got it from here,” I tell her once we step inside the bathroom.

“You’re sure?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter, eyeing the distance between the toilet and the shower, knowing I need both.

“Are you planning on getting a shower? There’s a chair in there.”

“For invalids.”

She chuckles. “The medical supply store was out of walkers, but we have one on back order.”

I crack a smile at this as she steps away. I manage to not topple over.

“You’ll call me if you need my help?”

“Just listen for the crash.”

“That’s not funny, Javier. I can stay.”

“And hold me up while I pee?”

She shrugs. “I can, or I can see if Camryn can come put in a catheter.”

I cringe at her suggestions for two reasons. One, because no man wants a plastic tube shoved up his dick, and two, Camryn is Samson’s woman, who is two of the original guys’ son.

“No thanks,” I hiss. “I’ll be fine.”

She steps back further. “Just call out if you need help.”

I begin to shuffle to the toilet as she closes the bathroom door. It takes forever to do my business, kick off my sweats, and make it to the shower. I regret climbing in here the second I practically fall to the shower chair with no grace at all. There isn’t a chance in hell I can get up from here by myself. I have no idea why I thought I could, considering how much effort it took for Cara to help me stand up from the bed.

My pride keeps me locked in place, my mind trying to convince me that the water is going to burn my cuts, but maybe it’ll loosen the stiffness in my muscles enough to form a miracle. That’s what it’s going to take to get up by myself.

The sound of the water bouncing off the plastic Cara placed over the cast on my left wrist grates on my nerves. I just want to be whole and healthy and not think about how I’d given up on life when I was in Ernesto’s clutches. I was certain I was going to die, and if it weren’t for the low throb of pain I feel all over my body, I’d swear I was dead, that I had to be living in a dream.

The girl I thought was gone is on the other side of the door, and by some miracle, she doesn’t hate me even though she should.

That sponge bath the other day… Jesus, my cock has gotten hard more times than I can count since then, and now is no exception. Using the supplies in the shower, I soap up and wash as best I can, the tightness of some of the wounds making it impossible to reach the back of my arms and my legs below my knees. I’ve never been so helpless in my life. I’ve never had to have someone take care of me, and I feel less than a man accepting the help being offered, especially from Cara.

The water pounds down on me, each row of stitches and every abrasion burning like fire, and it still doesn’t help to tame my erection. I’m beaten, bruised, and sliced all up, yet my dick is still begging for attention.

I resist calling out to Cara. I doubt when she told me to call for help, she meant stroking my cock, but it’s all that I can seem to focus on right now. The role I played in her captivity makes me the devil regardless of the finer details of the situation. I have no right to even think of her that way.

It doesn’t matter that she’s gorgeous or that for some reason I may never understand that she has stuck around to help when she should either be running as fast and as far away as she can, or she should be planning my death.

“I’m so fucked up,” I mutter as I stare down at the length between my legs.

Ignoring it becomes impossible, and I hate myself a little more when I reach for the thing, my hand nothing but muscle memory as I begin to stroke.

I grunt at the sensation, the sound a combination of relief and self-hatred. Fuck it feels good, and I’ve needed this since she washed me. She wasn’t even trying to entice me. Her actions were purely medical, as she has reminded me more than once.

Tell that to my dick, because where she’s concerned, it’s never picky on the reasons for the attention it receives.

“Oh God,” I hiss when I hit the stroke I’ve perfected over the years.

I roll my lips between my teeth to muffle the sounds of pleasure, but it’s too late.

Cara knocks on the door. “Are you okay in there?”

“I’m fine,” I say with a little too much emotion.

My hand never stops the up and down motion. Fuck, it feels good, and it gets even better when I imagine her opening the door, seeing what I’m doing, and offering to help.

God, Cara on her knees in the shower, her hand not enough to get me there, so her solution is getting on her knees and taking me in her mouth.

My nuts tighten, that first tingle of imminent orgasm just out of reach.

She’s straddling me, lowering what I know has to be a perfect pussy over my erection and sinking down. She rolls her hips, her mouth lowering to mine. That first lick of her tongue…

“Motherfucker,” I groan as I come, and only after the spasms subside do I wonder if she stood on the other side of the door and listened.

When I picture her touching herself, my cock threatens to thicken again, and I have to shut that idea down.