Page 51 of Ripped

There isn’t anything in the fridge I want to eat—not at almost six in the morning and not when I’m feeling half-dead.

“Or do you want to take a shower?” Connor asks. “I can change the bedsheets too.”

That’s a good idea. Except I’m not sure if I can make it two steps past the edge of the bed.

“Here, lemme help.” He holds out his hand and I go to him.

I sigh when his hands touch my body, when his arms wrap around me and support my weight. I lean against him, like he’s a healing balm and the more of him I get on me, the better I’ll feel.

I float toward the bathroom, not feeling the floor under my feet, not feeling the legs under me. I’m cold. I hurt. I curl toward Connor who makes everything better.

“Whoa,” he murmurs, staring at the jumble of knobs in the walk-in shower.

I point to the big one at the top of the column. “That one. Turn it about halfway to the left.”

Connor leaves me leaning against the chilly wall and turns the water on. It comes pouring out of the rainwater showerhead with a loud splash. “And I thought the bathroom downstairs was fancy.”

I grunt. “The other knobs are body jets.”

Connor’s kneeling in front of me, helping me out of my sweats. He looks up, eyes wide. “What are body jets?”

“Turn them on and find out.”

Connor eyes me suspiciously and I laugh, only to groan at how much it hurts. He stands to help lift my t-shirt over my head. It’s excruciating trying to lift my too-heavy arms above my head. But once I walk into the piping hot water, I moan at how good it feels.

I sway on my feet and reach for the closest wall for support. My knees are weak and my head is spinning. I wish I had a chair.

Then strong arms come around me and I sigh. Connor’s wide and solid and warm, better than any chair, better than any wall. I turn into him and rest my head on his shoulder, letting him hold me up, trusting him not to let me fall.

“Turn on the body jets. The other knobs.”

Connor shifts me to one side and reaches for them. It takes him a bit of fiddling and then water comes shooting out at us from jets hidden in the walls.

“Whoa! What!”

I smile against Connor’s shoulder and finally stop shivering. Connor’s hands run up and down my back. My dick stirs at his touch, at his naked, wet body pressed so close to mine. Connor pauses at the small of my back before venturing lower to grab my arse, gently massaging my glutes in his large palms.

I lift my head to brush my lips along his jaw, to rub my stubbled cheek against his smooth one. My hands come up to his hips and around to his lower back, and I let out a moan at the way Connor’s chest and stomach slide deliciously over mine. He’s hard too and when his cock juts against my hip, I dig my fingers into his back to keep him there.

“Fuck, Donnie.” Connor’s voice is strained. “You’ve got a fever.”

“Hmm.” I’m already burning up, what are a few more degrees? I grind my hips against his and nip at his ear.

“Fuck.”

“S’okay.” I turn in Connor’s arms until we’re back to chest and I adjust us so his cock is snug between my thighs. Christ, he feels so good back there, long and hard against my taint. I want to tell him that he belongs there, that we’re meant to be together like this. Naked and raw, at our most vulnerable.

I want to tell him that I’m good now. I had a breakthrough. I’m ready to move forward and I want to move forward with him.

Connor pinches my nipple with one hand and wraps his fingers around my dick with the other. I gasp and melt back against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Fuck me,” I murmur into his ear. I need him. I need his mark on me. I need him to know that I’m his. I reach up for the back of his head and pull him down so his lips are on my neck, on that spot on my neck.

“Jesus Christ, Donnie.” Connor seals his lips over his mark at the same time as his hand tightens around my cock. His hips snap forward, ramming into the back of my balls.

I latch onto his hip, to his scalp, digging my nails into him as he moves for the both of us. Water falls on my face, heavy drops splatter on my sensitive nipples. Connor sucks on the skin right above my collarbone and my whine echoes off the walls of the bathroom.

My balls ache where they’re getting battered by Connor’s dick. My cock throbs as Connor’s hand flies over it. The pressure building in my groin is strong enough to obscure how the rest of my body hurts so bad. I whine again, the sound mingling with Connor’s deep, rhythmic grunts.

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