Torn (8 page)

Jake…

Chelsea shifted, rolling onto her side, and faced her man. She reached out a hand and traced the muscular path of his bare back with her fingers. She flattened her palm against the dip of his waist, enjoying the heat that emanated from him. She spooned up behind him, her naked breasts pressed against the smooth, warm skin of his back. Her traveling hand came to a rest low on his abdomen, between his groin and his bellybutton. It was the sleeping position she had assumed initially the night they had met, and ever since… save for the last few weeks. She’d missed it. She’d missed him.

That thought in mind, she snuggled even closer, her nipples stiff against his back from the friction, noting his body’s response nudge her hand as he lengthened, hardened. She kissed the hot skin between his shoulder blades, curled her fingers around his turgid erection, squeezed it lightly as it throbbed with life in her hand. “Jake…”

Her husband rolled over onto his back, then onto his side, facing her. Without saying a word, he drew one taut nipple into his mouth, flicked his tongue against it and suckled until Chelsea arched up against him. One hand slid down her side, reached her waist, and gently pushed her until she lay on her back. It continued down to her naked cleft, and a finger slipped inside, found her wet, willing.

On their own, her legs parted to allow him more access, her hips curling against his hand as it drummed nimbly against her clit.

Jake’s tongue trailed from one nipple to the other, then dipped down, down further, past her belly button, past her shaved mound. It curled hot and wet around Chelsea’s swollen clitoris, made her moan, raise her hips. His hands palmed the supple globes of her rear and lifted her pussy to his mouth. He dipped in for a taste, and she jumped. His fingers gripped her ass, held her still. He lapped at her pussy as though it was the finest cuisine, drilled his tongue deep into its depths as though it was his cock, until she was a quivering mass of pure sensation, pure pleasure.

Her head tipped back, her fists clenched the sheet at her sides, her hips moved in time with her husband’s actions, her body hummed as the intense feeling of suspended gratification coiled low in her belly and slowly spread throughout her limbs. “Oh, God…” she whispered. Almost there, she felt like thunderclouds coming together before the storm, and she was about to break. Dimly, as through from a long distance, she heard Jake speak, and she struggled to listen to his words.

“Remember the fantasy you once had, of Ty Benson doing this to you,” he said, his voice pitched low, between long, heavenly glides of his tongue.

“Oh, God…
Yes
…”

He shifted his grip on her ass in order to slide first one finger, then two deep inside her, fucking her with the strong digits as he sucked on her throbbing clit. As one drummed against her G-spot, what started out as a moan became a soft scream as her body shook, her pelvis bucking against her husband’s face as she moved, panting, trying to catch the wave his mouth, his fingers, promised her.

His fingers drummed harder, he rubbed his chin, slightly rough from not shaving, against her clit, and she broke. Her howl of release was swallowed by her husband’s mouth covering hers, even as his fingers continued fucking her.

Just before she lost consciousness, she heard him ask, “Is it still a fantasy, or has it become real?”

~ *~

She woke with a start, on the verge of orgasm, groggy, and unsure of what brought her from sleep. Gradually, Chelsea became aware of four things: One, the bed was slightly rocking. Two, a faint, squishy sound. Three, her husband was moaning softly in a way that never failed to turn her on. Four, the fingers of Jake’s left hand rubbed deliciously against her wet pussy, squeezed her clit.

“Chelsea… God…”

Jake’s agonized whisper, had her turning her head to look at him. He’d shoved the covers aside, his right hand a tight, lubricated fist around his cock as he pounded it, its head purple as it pushed past the ring his index finger and thumb formed. She watched, fascinated as always, as he swirled his fist even as it pumped his cock, squeezed near the pre-cum glistened tip. His left hand never broke rhythm, and Chelsea realized her hips humped against his hand as if belonging to another person. But the pleasure…

As her husband came with a groan, murmuring her name, white cum spurting in waves from his throbbing cock, so did she, hard against his hand, and blacked out once more.

~ *~

The next time she woke, the muted mauve light of dawn filtered through tinted picture glass windows. Chelsea rolled to her right side to face her husband with a sleepy gaze. She was shocked to see his eyes open, staring intently at the ceiling, his hands tucked behind his head. At her movement, he glanced at her, returned his focus to watching the light play against the wood beams of the ceiling. “Chels?”

She yawned, widely, slipped a palm under her cheek. “Yeah?”

“Ty Benson…” Jake turned his head and looked at her intently for a moment before returning his gaze to the ceiling. “Should I be worried? I mean, I’m feeling jealousy for the first time since we’ve been together, and I don’t like it.”

Here was her opening. Perhaps not the perfect time for confession, as the person under discussion was asleep downstairs, but an opening nonetheless. Chelsea took a deep breath, opened her mouth… and lied.

“No, baby.”

Chapter Five

“
Y
eah, don’t hold dinner for me. We’re shooting late tonight.”

Tyler tried to not eavesdrop, tried to ignore the soft, caressing tone of her voice as Chelsea spoke with her husband on his cellular phone. Instead, he busied himself by preparing the light supper he’d invited her to in his trailer. He opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a bag of deli-shaved Tavern ham and tossed it onto the counter. Her soft laughter made his hand hover over the creamy Baby Swiss for a moment before he grabbed the sack and tossed it next to the ham.

“Don’t worry about me. Tyler –– Oh, just a second, honey. There’s a call coming through.” Chelsea silently pushed the button to answer the call and handed it over to Tyler, who stood to her left, a jar of mayonnaise in hand.

“Yeah?” His voice was rough as he wrestled with the mayonnaise jar. Goddamn thing. Who screwed a lid on this tight anyway?

“Lovely way to greet your wife, so glad I called.” Jennifer Benson’s sarcasm rode across the wireless waves into Tyler’s ear and, silently, he groaned.

“Sorry, Jen.”

“That’s better.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Don’t start.” He set the unopened jar on the counter and walked into the small, makeshift living room. From the corner of an eye, he saw Chelsea pick up the mayo container and try the lid. “It’s stuck tight,” he called out to her.

She nodded, and he watched as she first raised it to about eye level then tilted it so that the lid faced out.

“I’ll have to call you back. I’ve got a call waiting on the other line,” he said to his wife, then to the woman in his trailer, “Chels, it probably just needs to be held under hot water for a minute.”

Chelsea slammed the heel of her right palm against the bottom of the jar and smirked as the lid twisted off easily in her grasp. She held it up to show him, and Tyler chuckled. She set it on the counter and rummaged around in the drawers until she found one that held flatware. Withdrawing a knife, she began spreading the condiment on the waiting bread slices.

The phone beeped in his ear, reminding him that another call was still on hold, and Tyler sighed. “We’ll talk later, Jen.” He pressed a button, transferring the call back to Chelsea’s husband, and handed it to her.

“Sorry, babe. That was Tyler’s wife. I’m on his cell.”

Tyler resumed the task of making the meal. Chelsea meandered over to the tiny living room, still talking as she stared out the window. From the sound of her end of the conversation, she was visiting with her kids now. A melancholy gust of air escaped his lips. The very thought of children depressed him. Here he was, the oldest of four, and the only one in the family of six who hadn’t contributed to the Benson legacy. The single non-parent. And now, with the way things had been, and the way things were now going with him and Jennifer, it looked like he never would be. Of course, the fact that both of them frequently worked on opposite ends of the world and rarely saw one another didn’t help either. But damn it, he yearned for a family. He envied Chelsea and Jake theirs.

A gentle nudge had him opening his hand and Chelsea placed the phone in his palm. He refused to acknowledge the tingle that went through his arm when her fingertips brushed against his.

“What would you like to drink?” he asked, opening the fridge again and peering at its contents. “There’s juice, water, Coke, Mountain Dew…”

“A Dew would hit the spot,” she said, picking up their plates and bringing them to the pullout table. “I need the caffeine.”

He brought over two ice-cold cans of the sweet, carbonated beverage, and handed her an apron before sliding into one side of the booth. Chelsea tried to do the same, but found herself stuck as the petticoats under her dress hampered her progress. Grinning, Tyler swallowed a laugh. “You’ll probably have to take them off while you eat. Unless, of course, you prefer to eat standing up.”

She bit her bottom lip, silently acknowledging he was right. “Do you mind if I use your room to change?”

Tyler cocked an eyebrow and stared at her, mildly amused by her modesty considering the role she played. “Go ahead. It’s down the hall, on your left.”

~ *~

“So tell me,” Tyler said as he tucked a stray, dark lock of hair behind one of Chelsea’s ears. He’d wanted to do that since the morning began. “I never asked you. What brings a New Yorker to Montana?”

Startled by the longing his gesture wrought, she took a swallow of soda and licked her lips before she answered. “It was a man.” She smiled at a memory only she could see. “Jake.”

“Jake? He was in New York?” Somehow, he just couldn’t picture it. Actor or not, even his imagination couldn’t stretch that wide.

Chelsea’s laugh was short. “Hardly. I came out to visit my folks after they moved here. It was my summer vacation, and I ended up staying a week longer than planned so that I could check out a powwow. Caught sight of Jake singing with a drum group and that was it. I never went back. We met and married the same night.”

His jaw dropped, thinking of the years spent romancing Jennifer into marriage. The woman in front of him had either figured something out or was completely out of her mind. Who the hell went around marrying people they’d just met?

She laughed at his expression. “Oh, yeah, my parents took it about the same way.” Her dark brown eyes turned glassy as her thoughts turned inward. “But as soon as I saw his smile, I knew we were meant to meet. Meant to be together.” Chelsea shook her head, brought her focus back to the gorgeous man in front of her. “Didn’t you feel that way when you saw Jennifer?”

“I do. You’re thinking too small. The term soul mate doesn’t necessarily have to apply to romantic love. Haven’t you ever met someone at a time in your life who helped you in some way or who guided you to someone, and then just… vanished? It could have been a friend, a lover, someone…?”

Tyler’s frown deepened as he pondered her question. He knew someone had introduced him to Julie years ago, but for the life of him, couldn’t remember who. And then, when he was still shell-shocked over Meredith... He had a hard time believing that hell had been preordained.

“A mutual friend introduced Jen and I,” he said quietly, “and then he moved out of the country. At the time, I’d just come out of a relationship that ended… badly.”

Her brow furrowed for only a moment at his response. “Oh. Well…” she swallowed and nervously fiddled with one of the red and white checkered cloth napkins, trying to hide her floundering composure. Tyler almost smiled. If anyone looked like they wanted to rewind the last minute of their life, it was Chelsea. Interesting that she didn’t dig for more details. Jennifer always had.

“So,” Tyler began, taking pity on her. He reached for the bag of barbeque flavored potato chips and popped a couple in his mouth. “You and Jake hooked up. When did Faye arrive, if you don’t mind me asking?” Her face lit up at the mention of her daughter’s name, and Tyler mentally patted himself on the back. He knew that’d bring back her smile.

Chelsea’s lips curved upwards as she retrieved a small handful of chips from the sack. “Almost a year later.”

He did the math: Grace, three years after that. “Are you and Jake planning on having more someday?”

Her thick lashes fluttered down, and Tyler suddenly had the sinking sensation that he’d asked a very wrong question. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I know that.”

“It’s okay.” Sighing, Chelsea pushed her dark curls from her forehead, tucking a stray lock behind an ear. “
I
would love to have more kids. I’ve always wanted a large family.” She grimaced, took a quick sip from her drink. “Jake on the other hand…”