Page 95 of Unbreakable
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now, brat.”
“Oh, no! The little man is going to get me!” I put my hands on my cheeks like I was fake scared.
Dylan sat up and pulled behind my knees so I had to bend, then grabbed my waist and pinned me under him. We were both laughing so hard, never tired of our little wrestling matches. “How the tables have turned, brat.”
I smirked, biting my lip and rocking my body underneath him. I dropped my voice. “What are you gonna do to mee—ah!” Dylan rammed into me, then did it a second time, harder. “Fuck yes.”
“Who’s a little man now?” Dylan sealed my wrists in one of his fists and pressed them over my head. “Am I a little man, or am I the guy who’s ruined you for anyone else?”
“The latter,” I gasped, my eyes fluttering shut as my legs circled his hips.
“That’s what I fucking thought, wife.”
Dylan’s rhythm was steady, hard, and fast. His eyes grew wilder when he let go of my wrists. I sank my fingers into his shoulder blades, knowing he was probably close to coming. “Dylan, please don’t stop. I need more.”
“Jeannie,” he cried out desperately before releasing into me. My eyes held his, something feral unleashed between us. He took a testing push of his hips, shuddering. “Too sensitive, fuck.”
Dylan withdrew from me, staying propped over top of me. A curl of sweat-soaked hair fell over his forehead as he kissed me, sliding his hand down my stomach and letting out a low laugh when his fingers met the mess he left inside me. “I still need to give this cunt every last thing it deserves.”
His fingers sank into me, but it didn’t feel enough. “More, Dylan.”
His eyebrows went up and he smirked. “That’ll be four, baby.”
I moaned at the fullness, the stretch, and the rhythm of his hand. “I want them all,” I whispered.
“Fuck, J.” Dylan took a moment to adjust his hand, grouping his fingers together and sliding his thumb into my opening with them. He stared, panting. “So fucking hot.”
I dug my heels into the blanket below me, accentuating the rocking of his hand. I whimpered his name, and curses, and pleas, and then it was just my eyes on his, an intrigued smile on his face. His bicep flexed with each push, his tan skin and dark hair reminding me exactly how hot my husband is, his determination and tenacity why he was the one I chose over acting, and why I’d never miss the pain for the joy of moments like these. Connected, consumed, a bond forged by fire and blood and tears and the most tenacious kind of love.
Something unbreakable.
I shattered, and Dylan rose to my face, his lips taking mine before gazing into my eyes. “You are the fucking air I breathe, Jeanine Wendlock.”
I was sweaty, and messy, and so was he, but the best kinds of messes were the ones we made together. I smiled and held his face, running my fingers through his damp hair.
“I think it’s Jeanine Sorrento these days.”
Dylan had the most gorgeous smile as his head hung over mine. “You know, I meant to go all slow and romantic,” he laughed. “Roaring fire, gushy movie, blankets, soft lights.”
I giggled. “You telling me you didn’t like that?”
He hovered over top of me. “I loved that.”
“Maybe let’s make the post-sex snuggles soft and romantic.”
Dylan dipped to kiss me. “Deal.”
He cleaned me up with tissues and tucked our bodies together. We lay on our sides, sweat-dampened skin melding with a blanket over us. I was perfectly surrounded by the man I chose as we watched what was left of the movie.
“Oh, hey, you wanna know something crazy?” Dyl asked.
“Sure.”
“I think Mara pegs Jack.”
My mouth fell open and I turned to look directly at Dylan. “What?”
“He’s brought it up more than once now. He said I should make pegging part of The Plan. And then when my ass hurt, he told me I needed to use more lube for pegging.”
