Page 153 of The Outsider
“Fucking hell, that hot little cunt pulsing around me,” John growled, his voice uneven. “You feel so damn good, baby. You’re holding me so tight.”
“I need more,” I whimpered. “I don’t know how, but I do.”
His reflection smirked at me. “Good girl. Keep coming on your husband’s cock.”
I didn't even know if I could, but I was a woman possessed, addicted to the way John made me feel, and he was determined to push me to my absolute limit. I let my hand fall between my thighs, massaging my clit as I lifted and dropped my hips, riding up and down his shaft. He cursed again and grasped my hips tightly, guiding me.
I came apart once more, unable to stop myself, and yet I was insatiable. Stimulated past the point of reason, I needed even more. I increased the pace until I was bouncing eagerly on his lap, my breastsjiggling lewdly in the mirror. I was beyond caring as the tension broke inside me, and I came hard again, enveloping him with my climax. As the pleasure ebbed, I fell back against him.
“I can’t take any more,” I gasped out, pleading. “Please let me stop.”
“Thank Christ,” John panted. “I deserve a medal for lasting through that.”
I giggled breathlessly, feeling loose and free in a way I only felt in these intimate moments with the man I loved.My husband.
“Turn around, beautiful,” he murmured after we’d caught our breath. “I want to look at my wife while I make love to her.”
My heart felt fit to burst as I maneuvered into position, straddling his lap and taking him inside again. He looked up at me with pure adoration, and a lump rose unexpectedly in my throat. I tilted his head back and rested my forehead against his, cradling his cheek in my hand.
John sighed, his eyelids falling shut, and I copied him. We breathed as one, in sync, as I circled my hips over his. I held his face in my hands and kissed him with languid sweetness, eager to savour him. He tangled his tongue with mine, one hand twisted in my hair, the other cupping my bottom and urging me on.
A kind of trace overtook us, and we temporarily stepped out of time and space. Only we existed—only the tender need in our kisses, the gentle rhythm of our bodies, and the breath we shared.We who are two would be one.
“Ah, my love,” John whispered, and the spell broke.
He shuddered deeply as he came in hard surges inside me, his arms around me in a death grip. Low, guttural groans came from deep in his chest, and I trailed kisses up his jaw as I watched him unravel. When he finally relaxed, he buried his face in my shoulder.
When he’d recovered, John looked back up at me. Concern touched his eyes as he caressed my wet cheek, slick with tears.
“You okay, baby?” he said, so tenderly that another tear escaped.
“Yes,” I replied, a tremor in my voice. “Just…a little overwhelmed.”
“I know,” he soothed as he wiped away tears with his thumb. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Come with me.”
He led me to the bathroom, and we took another brief shower. He rubbed my shoulders under the warm water, easing tension with his strong farmhand fingers and murmuring endearments meant only for me.
We settled back in bed, and I propped myself up on my elbow at his side, smoothing his hair before stroking the contours of his face with my fingertips. He gazed up at me, his eyelids growing heavy under my patient attention, and I smiled. It was rare that he fell asleep first, and I savoured the quiet trust he gave me by letting himself drift.
I sang softly, a French lullaby taught to me by my father so many years before, and his eyes closed.
“What’s it mean?” John mumbled, his words slurred by drowsiness.
I translated roughly, tracing his bottom lip with my thumb.
“If I am the night, you are the stars.”
Chapter 45
Claire
Sunlight streamed in through a crack in the curtains, searing my eyes, and I groaned and rolled over onto John’s side of the bed. Even though I was always up early nowadays, I didn’t think I’d ever be a morning person like John was. He actuallyenjoyedgetting up at daybreak every day, the maniac.
I smiled. He’d woken me at dawn and made love to me again, slow and tender, before tucking me back into bed with a kiss, telling me to sleep in. The Claire that had just met the gruff man on the rooftop could never have imagined he’d turn out to be so sweet.
Then again, she’d have a heart attack if she knew he was now her husband.
So would most of the people I grew up with,I thought, and my mind drifted to Asha. I wondered where she was, or if she was even still alive. I doubted it, and somehow—even though she’d betrayed me so completely—I mourned her. I should’ve hated her, but I couldn’t find it in me to do it. She was the last piece of my old life, and she’d diedtrying to get back to that life we’d lost. Not so different to how I’d been when I first entered the Wasteland—ignorant, insolent, and pitiable.
