Page 88 of Unbreakable
My hand circled his cock, pumping a couple times. “And maybe I like how you taste.”
Dylan lifted me to drop me to my feet, him taking my place sitting on the end of the table. He shucked his pants and boxer briefs the rest of the way down and sat back. The table creaked under his weight and we made big eyes at each other.
“I don’t give a fuck if it breaks,” he said, gathering my hair in his hand and offering his cock to me with his other.
I sat in the chair between his spread legs, his cock right at eye level for me. I didn’t waste much time with the build-up. I’d already done so much and I just needed to feel him, hot and hard in my mouth.
“Can I push?” he asked, and I hummed.
He tried thrusting up into my mouth, me continually gagging and getting more saliva on his cock.
“Knees,” he said, and I shoved the chair back, the wood back of the chair thunking against the hardwood floor.
We shared a nervous laugh, hoping we wouldn’t wake the kids. While I was smiling up at him, he grazed a thumb over my cheek. “You’re so perfect, J.”
I took his cock back into my hand and got back to work, until he held my head still. “Can I fuck your mouth?”
I nodded, lowering my chin and dropping my jaw open farther. He held the back of my head for leverage, his other hand clamping the back of the table.
“Fuck, Jeanine. You make me feel so fucking good.”
His thrusts became more stuttered and the first pulse from him hit the back of my mouth. He pulled out, our hands working together to jerk him onto my collarbones and chest. I met his eyes and stuck my tongue out as he breathed out hard, letting him see the little bit he’d left in my mouth. He ran his thumb over my tongue and dragged a trail of it down the front of my throat.
“How do I look?” I asked.
His breaths were ragged, his eyes wild. “Like you’re all fucking mine.”
He bent forward to kiss me, then leaned his weight on the table’s edge, breathing out a heavy whoosh of air.
That whoosh didn’t let him hear the crack.
We had one of those tables that doesn’t have legs on the outside, but rather a singular base in the middle that supports the whole thing. Fewer banged knees and all that. But a big oak table can only take so much when all the pressure is put on one spot.
It almost played out in slow motion, Dylan’s eyes going big and his whole naked self tumbling to the floor along with our now-split dining table. Sadly the split wasn’t a clean break, with jagged splinters poking out here and there. I immediately laughed, as one would when one’s husband breaks the dining table while he’s naked and one is still covered in his cum.
But his shriek of pain, followed by whisper screaming so we didn’t wake the kids, made my laughter stop.
“Oh, baby, no, are you alright?”
“My ass!” he hissed out. “My fucking ass!”
“What can I do?” I asked, reaching over the splinters of half our table to get a fistful of napkins from the dispenser in what was once the middle of the table. I wiped his mess from my chest quickly and crouched to help Dylan, who was acting much like a laboring first-time mother. He rolled on one hip, squalling with most of an erection still maintained. Impressive!
“I think I broke my ass!” he squealed. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble, because of my ass! I’m not supposed to break stuff outside the rink!”
Since Greyson was Dylan’s mini-me, I was reminded of how he would sulk as a toddler if he got a minor injury. That made me have to work even harder to stifle my laughter, knowing my very much adult husband would not appreciate it.
“Let’s not worry about that now. Can I get you some ice and look at it?”
“Okay,” he whined. I helped him stand and got him to lie on the couch. He limped like he’d injured a whole leg or two.
I held a hand over my mouth as I walked away, trying so hard not to laugh. It was one of the more ridiculous things I’ve seen in my life. But then he made it worse.
“Alexa, what’s the strongest wood for a dining table?”
Then our little house robot took the liberty of answering his question. I full-on piggy snorted, folding in half over his ludicrous question.
“Jeannie, it’s not funny!” he whined. “My ass hurts! I’m going to get in trouble at work! Our dining table is fucked!”
