The Pet Shop

by K D Grace

  He held her in his weighty gaze. ‘I know what you need,’ he repeated. With his free hand, he fought his trousers like they were the enemy until they were down around his hips. In her peripheral vision she could just make out his cock straining toward her. Then he pushed into her with a grunt, sending shockwaves up through her at the sudden invasion that filled her too full for comfort, yet felt way too good to be pain.

  He gathered her to him and began to thrust. There was no preamble, no foreplay, just driving hungry need. She hooked her legs around him and held on for dear life, growling and grinding, feeling like she would split in two with each pounding. And yet she wanted nothing more than to live for the next thrust. It was as though her whole world had contracted to thrusting and shoving and trembling. She was freezing and burning and grasping, and he was pushing her, more quickly than she would have ever imagined, to complete overload.

  The pistoning of his body raked the swell of her clit to a hard knot as he drew nearer his release. And when at last he overwhelmed her, she threw back her head and howled as her orgasm raged like fire melting ice. Only a split second later he convulsed and jerked on top of her.

  For a few minutes they lay sprawled on the stump together catching their breath. Then, at last, he pulled out, and it was as though nothing had happened. Avoiding her gaze, he cleaned them both with the large blue bandana he’d been wearing around his neck, and then he tossed her a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms with a drawstring. ‘Put these on. We need to get you someplace warm.’ He packed up his rucksack while she struggled into the bottoms then he threw her a hooded sweatshirt. He tossed her muddy shoes into a waterproof bag and shoved it in the top of the pack, just before he hoisted it onto his back. Then he lifted her in his arms again.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she breathed. ‘You can’t carry me to your house.’

  He nodded behind him as a dark blue jeep pulled up and parked inconspicuously by the side of the road, not far from where she had tried to cross. ‘I have no intention of carrying you to my house. Ed will take you back to your hotel.’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘AND THAT’S HOW IT ended.’ Stella stared out the window of the hotel into the full car park. ‘He gave me a synapse-melting kiss, thrust me into the jeep with his driver and waved me off to my hotel room. He said he had urgent research.’

  She heard Anne’s hmmph on the other end of the phone.

  ‘What? You don’t believe me? I swear that’s how it happened.’

  ‘Look, Stel, honey, I don’t doubt that’s exactly how it happened, and you’ve made me so wet I’m in danger of sliding off the chair, but I just can’t believe Vincent Evanston is Tino. That’s ... That’s just completely barking.’

  There was a soft knock at the door. It was room service with her mushroom omelette and the complimentary copy of the Oregonian. She motioned them in with the phone still to her ear. She had spent the night at the Airport Sheraton in Portland. She’d be flying back to London in a few hours after a successful meeting with Vanguard.

  She shut the door behind the server and settled into her breakfast. ‘I know it sounds crazy. I keep telling myself that, but I swear, Anne, he’s identical. And he knew about Tino. He knew why I pursued him into the wood. How else could he know? And why else was he so anxious to get rid of me? I mean, he would have done that before we had sex if he wasn’t Tino. Don’t you think?’

  ‘Evil twin?’

  ‘Hot twin, I’d say. Totally hot twin.’ Stella poured her Earl Grey into the porcelain cup and sipped. ‘Anyway, I’m seeing Tino this weekend, so maybe I can find out for sure. I mean I’ve had sex with both of them.’

  ‘But you just said it was totally different.’

  ‘I know what I said. I just don’t see how there can be two people who look so absolutely the same but ... aren’t. Annie? I can hear the wheels turning. What is it?’

  ‘I don’t understand why you have to know, Stella. Tino’s a–’

  ‘Prostitute, yes, I’m aware of that fact.’ In spite of herself, Stella blushed at the use of the word.

  ‘Can you really imagine why someone like Vincent Evanston, someone with his power and his resources would be moonlighting as a prostitute?’

  ‘Tino’s not a prostitute per se.’ Stella contemplated. ‘He’s a Pet, and that’s so totally different.’ She picked at her omelette. ‘I could have turned down a prostitute.’

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Annie, have you ever been with him? With Tino? I mean you work for Strigida too, and you put in as many hours as I do.’

  ‘God no! Tino scares me.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  Stella could hear Anne shifting the phone. ‘You know why, Stella. I mean, look at the way you’re obsessing.’

  ‘I know, but I just can’t help myself.’ She held the phone against her shoulder and flipped open the paper.

  ‘Stel, you know if you find out who Tino really is, if you unmask the Pet, so to speak, then he won’t be Tino any more. I don’t understand why you’d want to do that? Why can’t you just enjoy and be satisfied?’

  ‘It’s your fault,’ Stella pouted. ‘You’re the one who left him with me against my will in the first place.’

  ‘Don’t blame me. I only did what I was told, hon. It was the Boss’s orders that you have Tino, so take it up with him next time you talk to him.’

  ‘I just might do that. I mean it’s pretty ballsy him thinking I need a ...’ her voice died away in her throat, as she glanced down at the paper.

  ‘Stella?’

  On page four, she was greeted by a smiling photo of Tino! She plopped her teacup down on the tray, slopping Earl Grey over the crisp white napkin. As she read the caption the scent of bergamot filled the air.

  In an unprecedented appearance, Vincent Evanston, reclusive philanthropist, to dedicate new nature reserve near Lincoln City.

  ‘Stella? Are you still there?’

  The ceremony was this afternoon. Forgetting all about her omelette, she held the paper up to the lamp and squinted hard at the photo. The hair was styled differently. The face was shaved clean, and under the photo in small print were the words Archive photo again. And yet, this photo of Evanston made him look even more like Tino than the one on the news feed she’d first seen.

  ‘Stella? What’s going on?’

  Stella jumped at the sound of Anne’s voice, as though she had temporarily been hypnotised by the gaze of the mystery man, even through the medium of newsprint. ‘Um, Anne, I’m gonna need another day here after all. I’m looking at the Oregonian, and, well, I ... I need another day.’

  There was a gust-of-wind sigh. ‘Does this have anything to do with Evanston?’

  ‘Look, Annie, I was coming home a day early anyway, so it won’t matter, right? I’ll talk to you later. Bye.’ She didn’t wait for the torrent of questions she knew she would have no good answers for.

  An hour later, Stella had rescheduled her flight, hired another car, and was speeding down Highway 18, heading back to the Oregon coast and to Lincoln City. The road atlas was open on the passenger seat and an enormous latte filled the cup holder. If she hurried, she could just make it.

  It was not without considerable effort that she finally found the Fireweed Nature Reserve at the end of a not-so-well maintained gravel road that rattled her teeth and spattered the car with a fine mist of mud. She arrived to a clatter of binoculars and birding scopes. Even the journalists were dressed like adverts for L.L. Bean. She’d left Portland in a hurry. There still had been no time to shop for the great outdoors. With her clingy summer dress, showcasing cleavage and legs, Vincent would see her a mile away and have ample time to cut and run if he decided to. She hoped he wouldn’t.

  At the beginning of the boardwalk leading out into the marshes was a dark wooden sign with the words Fireweed Nature Reserve burnt deeply into the wood along with an artist’s rendering of some tall plant covered in bright magenta flowers. She assumed it must b
e fireweed. At the lower corner of the sign was a stylised drawing of an owl on a branch sitting in front of a crescent moon. As she hurried up the boardwalk to the viewing platform where the dedication was to take place, her heels slid treacherously, threatening to wedge in the cracks between the boards. Tino wouldn’t have cared what she wore, she reminded herself angrily.

  She stumbled up the boardwalk just as the introduction finished, nearly falling against a man draped in half-a-dozen cameras.

  And suddenly there was Tino, looking rugged and considerably less vulnerable in his khaki trousers and cotton shirt. He waited politely for the applause to die down, and then he spoke. ‘As most of you know, I grew up not far from here.’ The resonant voice and the American accent were a slap-in-the-face reminder that this was most definitely Vincent Evanston. How could Tino possibly be an American? She listened as he continued.

  ‘My best memories are of a pair of barn owls who took up residence on our farm the year I turned 12. All that summer, my best friend and I watched those owls – even rigged up a camera and got some pretty decent photos. In fact, we were so obsessed with those birds that we started a secret club in their honour. We called ourselves the Night Owls. Those owls successfully raised five chicks that year, and I fell in love.’

  He looked over his shoulder and nodded at the lake behind him. ‘Places like this are important, not just because of the sanctuary they give wildlife, but because they offer all of us an opportunity to fall in love. With nature.’ His gaze moved over the crowd, came to rest on her then moved on. She felt as though she had been gut punched, and yet what had she expected him to do? Forget everything and come running to her? He hadn’t been all that happy to see her in the wood, and he wasn’t likely to be any more happy now that she had practically stalked him here. Maybe he hoped if he ignored her, she’d go away. Surely this man couldn’t be her Tino.

  He continued. ‘I have a reputation for being a recluse, but I’m not really.’ He offered a mischievous chuckle. ‘I just prefer the company of the residents of a place like this over you lot.’

  To the sound of laughter and applause, he cut the red ribbon stretched across the viewing platform and stood smiling, shaking hands while cameras snapped and reporters asked questions. People adorned in binoculars and birding scopes now lined the rail of the viewing platform. The chill in the air as the damp summer sun fell below the wooded foothills made Stella’s nipples ache through the ridiculously thin dress.

  She was halfway back to her car, feeling stupid and self conscious, when a strong arm slipped around her waist, and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. She looked up into Tino’s dark eyes.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ It still came as a shock to hear Tino speaking.

  ‘I saw your picture in the Oregonian.’

  ‘So you thought you’d just drop in.’

  ‘You are Tino, aren’t you?’

  He picked up the pace. ‘Tino’s not here.’ With his arm around her waist, he guided her away from her car to a waiting limo.

  She didn’t protest as he opened the door and helped her inside, sliding in next to her. Then he knocked on the privacy window and the driver took off.

  ‘Seems a strange vehicle to bring to a nature reserve,’ she said.

  ‘You really think so? My dad made the big bucks in shipping, you know, and the Port of Portland has a reputation for murder and all kinds of intrigue so rich men can have what they want. So of course I have a limo.’ He leant close and nipped her ear. ‘And you just hopped right in with me, didn’t you? You know what they say about accepting rides from strangers. Are you scared?’

  She held his gaze. ‘You’re not a stranger.’

  He chuckled softly and returned her gaze as though he were the king of stare-downs, then he released his breath slowly. ‘Anyway, I didn’t bring the limo, but you can’t go back in what I came in dressed like that.’

  ‘Then you have to be Tino, or you wouldn’t have–’

  He covered her mouth in an insistent kiss. ‘What?’ He spoke against her lips ‘You think I wouldn’t notice the sexy English bird distracting me from all the other birds.’ He teased her lips apart, sparring with her tongue, making her insides feel like warm toffee. She was relieved to hear no anger in his voice.

  She came up for breath. ‘But how else would you–’

  He nipped and tugged on her lip. ‘Tino’s not here,’ he whispered against her mouth, slurring his words with the flick of his tongue. ‘There’s just Vincent.’

  ‘What are you, schizo then?’ she let out a little gasp as he nibbled her earlobe then the hollow of her throat.

  ‘Didn’t you take psychology 101? We all have more than one person living inside us, Stella.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, feeling suddenly disoriented as the driver turned onto the main road and picked up speed.

  ‘Portland.’

  ‘But my car. It’s a hire, and my bags–’

  He kissed her again, and his hand moved up the inside of her thigh. ‘Don’t worry. My people will take care of everything.’

  ‘But I thought–’ With a sharp little gasp, she suddenly forgot how to speak, as his fingers slid aside the crotch of her thong.

  ‘Did you wear these for Tino, hoping he’d take them off with his teeth?’ He raked the hood of her clit with a heavy thumb, sending a jolt of heat radiating out over her belly and down through her slit. ‘Because I won’t bother. I’m not here for your entertainment.’

  ‘I never thought that you were,’ she said, giving him an ineffective shove with the flat of her hand. But he took her mouth again, and the way his tongue invaded and withdrew and invaded again, the way his fingers teased and retreated and teased again at the very edge of her gape made her stop thinking about ... well everything, really.

  He pulled away at last and held her gaze. ‘We have until we get to Portland, Stella. You can waste time trying to find out about Tino or,’ he slid his middle finger into her slick pout. ‘You can spend that time with Vincent.’ His thumb pressed tight little circles around her clit. ‘It can be such a pleasant drive to Portland.’

  ‘I don’t even know Vincent,’ she gasped. ‘You never gave me a chance.’

  ‘As I recall, you overwhelmed me. I wasn’t prepared.’

  ‘You were scared.’

  He held her gaze. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘But you were. I think you were–’

  He kissed her hard, and when he pulled away they were both breathless. ‘Stop talking, Stella. There are lots better uses of our time.’ He demonstrated by burrowing, face first, into her well-displayed cleavage, wasted on the herons and otters at the nature reserve. He shoved aside the plunge neckline and push-up bra, until her breasts tumbled over like willing conspirators into his large palms.

  The seat in the limo was almost big enough for an orgy. She lost the kitten heels and her toes curled in the plush carpet as he slid a second finger into her.

  ‘Not appropriate footwear for a nature reserve. Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time?’ He nodded to her shoes. Then he huffed an exaggerated groan. ‘My back still hurts from piggybacking you.’

  She reached out to slap him playfully, but he caught her wrist and held her in a serious gaze. ‘You could have broken an ankle or worse.’ He pulled her down and shifted her until she lay full length on the seat. Then he lifted her foot to his lips bathing her heel in his hot breath. ‘None of this is necessary for Tino, or me. What were you thinking?’ His words slurred as he ran his tongue up over her instep and suckled each toe in turn, causing her to buck against the seat as her pussy gripped his fingers in hungry nibbles.

  He trailed kisses and nips and lovebites over her ankle and up the inside of her thigh while the relentless hand working her pussy never missed a beat. And when his mouth caught up with his hand, he shoved at the crotch of her thong until it was stretched uselessly over one arse cheek, leaving her splayed and twitchy and ready for the take-over. ‘I wanted to t
aste you out there under the trees, but you were so cold. I was worried.’ He didn’t wait for her response, but lowered his face and lapped at her clit and suckled her labia until she was heavy and distended, still gripping his probing fingers. She heard the sound of a zipper, the swish of clothing, and he pushed into her with a groan. ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’ He held very still, making her wait with his fullness inside her. Making her want. ‘It’s a complication neither of us needs.’

  ‘But I am here now, and we can’t go back,’ she breathed. She tried to thrust against him.

  Still he didn’t move, but he let her squirm beneath him, feeling like her cunt was on fire. ‘You didn’t come for me. You came for Tino.’ He rocked against her just enough for his body to rake her clit, and the shock of it felt like electricity jolting through her pussy. She clenched down hard on his cock.

  ‘Please! Can’t I have you both?’

  ‘No.’ He withdrew just enough to make her certain that his refusal to satisfy her would be beyond endurance. His breath was heavy, but measured, like he could go on for ever. And, dear God, she wanted him to. He held her gaze. ‘You can’t have both.’

  And just when she was about to panic, to beg his forgiveness, to offer him anything to get him to continue, he released a long slow breath and lowered his mouth to her nipples as though they had all the time in the world. He nibbled and suckled until her nipples were tight and tender in that tetchy place between pain and pleasure. Then he raised his dark eyes, suddenly so unlike Tino’s, and met her gaze. ‘Do you want Vincent?’

  ‘Yes. I want Vincent.’ She sighed. ‘Please.’

  He released a breath she only now realised he’d been holding then gathered her to him, cupping her buttocks in his hands to push deeper into her. She raised her arse, wrapped her legs around him and dug her heels in for the ride.

  He was pitiless. He battered her with exquisite force until she was almost there then he stopped, holding her so tightly that she couldn’t satisfy herself, she could do nothing but yield as he kissed her until her lips felt bruised and nibbled her throat and neck until she trembled like light on the surface of water. Then he battered her again.