Page 102 of The Outsider
“Oh fuck, John,” Claire panted. “Yes. I need it so bad.”
“Dirty girl,” I growled. “Come for me. Now.”
I pressed hard against the tender, ridged spot inside her, and she finally came apart. She buried her face in the bed and cried out, riding the wave on my fingers, her hands curled into fists around the bedsheet. Sweaty, unrestrained, and gorgeous.
I got up to grab a damp washcloth, then cleaned the mess I’d left on her ass. She collapsed onto the bed, weak and rosy-cheeked, eyes still glazed from orgasm. I got into bed and pulled her into my arms.
“Was that what you wanted?” I asked. I stroked her ass gently, soothing her skin, which was still warm to the touch.
Claire sighed, resting her head against my chest. “Yes. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
We lay there quietly, recovering.
“I’m going to hate myself in the morning,” Claire eventually said with a groan, hiding her face in my shoulder.
I kissed the top of her head. “Get up and feed the chickens, then take a nap. I’ll do the rest with Kimmy.”
“You were just patrolling,” she replied, accusatory. “And you have another night shift tomorrow. You need your sleep.”
“Isn’t that what death is for?” I asked with a grin, and she nudged me.
“Don’t joke about that. I’m serious. You need to take care of yourself. You’re too important to risk.”
In a world that was always demanding more of me, Claire was the only one who really stopped to look after me, who worried about me.
“Okay,” I said, snuggling closer to her. “But don’t work too hard.”
I fell asleep holding her close.
Part IV: Lanternlight
And moving thro' a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
-“The Lady of Shalott”, Alfred Lord Tennyson
Chapter 28
Claire
March arrived with a winter storm that blanketed Summerhurst with a fresh layer of snow. No signs of spring yet emerged, but I didn’t mind. I had a newfound appreciation for the coziness of sitting by a warm hearth, wrapped in blankets, reading my way through the Madigans’ small collection of books. I started painting again, and my first work was of the farmhouse itself, set against the vibrant white of snow.
I was pleased and a little embarrassed when John insisted on hanging it in the front entryway, so it was the first thing people saw when visiting. Each time I finished a painting, he found a new place in the house to hang it.
With a horse of my own, I could visit people more often. Nimkii invited me for tea, and I met her rambunctious toddler as we discussed painting. I took Jenna up on her offer and joined her and her friend, Liam, for music practice. Jenna was delighted, and even more so when I sangfor them.
“You sound great!” she trilled. “This is so exciting! You’ll have to sing with us at the next community dance.”
“Oh, I don’t know—” I stammered.
“You want people to fall in love with you or what, compound girl?” Jenna demanded.
I couldn’t help laughing. “Not sure a dance will do that, but I suppose I should try.”
