Taken By The Pet Sitter

Bonnie Bimbo

Copyright

Copyright © 2026 by Bonnie Bimbo

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Unexpected Return

The late-afternoon sun dipped over the suburbs, casting long shadows across Ben’s silent street. Jennifer eased her silver SUV into the driveway. She hadn’t texted ahead. She told herself it was impulsive—she missed Max and wanted to see how he was settling on his first full day away from home. But she knew that missing her son wasn’t the only reason. The truth was heavier: Noah’s conference had slogged into another tedious dinner. She’d caught the earliest flight back, feigning a headache to dodge the networking event. The house felt vacant without the dog’s riotous energy, and—if she was honest, admitting it only to herself—she wanted to see Ben again, to see if feelings lingered or could be set aside.

She stepped out, tugging at the thin cotton of her navy wrap dress, the fabric sticking to her hips and ass in the sticky air, the V-neck showing off just enough cleavage to make her feel like a slut after a week of hiding under stiff blazers. Her auburn hair hung loose, smelling faintly of stale airplane coffee and recycled air. She rang the doorbell before she could chicken out.

Footsteps thudded on the other side. The door swung open and there was Ben, barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of gray workout shorts and a black tank that looked like it was painted onto his chest and shoulders. Sweat glistened at his collarbone, making him look like he’d just finished fucking someone in the backyard instead of playing with dogs. Max shot past his legs, tail wagging like a metronome, and launched himself at Jennifer, planting both muddy paws right on her hips. Golden fur smeared across her dress, sticking to her tits and stomach like a badge of shame.

“Hey, easy, buddy,” Ben chuckled, voice rough from exertion. He grabbed Max’s collar, pulling him down gently, but the dog twisted free and circled Jennifer again, licking her bare calves. “Someone missed you.”

Jennifer crouched, letting Max shove his nose into her neck, his tongue hot and wet as it dragged across her throat, leaving a sticky trail. She laughed, breathless, and pushed him away, but the damage was done—her dress was now a fur magnet, the golden hairs clinging to her tits and belly like a pervert’s calling card. "Hope it’s okay I just showed up. Noah’s still out of town, and I… I don’t know. I wanted to check on him."

Ben’s blue eyes lingered on her a beat longer than politeness required. “You’re always welcome, Jennifer. Come in. I just made coffee.”

She stepped inside. The cool air of the house raised goosebumps along her arms. The place smelled faintly of cedar and dog—clean, but lived-in. A distant bark echoed from the kennel wing at the back. Max trotted ahead, nails clicking on hardwood, leading her toward the open-plan kitchen and living room.

Ben poured her a mug without asking how she took it—black, two sugars. It was just as she’d mentioned months ago when they first hired him. He remembered. The small detail lodged warmly in her stomach.

They stood at the kitchen island, sipping coffee in silence, Max sprawled out between them, panting like he’d just run a marathon. Jennifer couldn’t help staring at Ben’s arms, the way his muscles flexed when he lifted his mug, the faint scar on his forearm that looked like it had a story involving blood and bad decisions. He was taller than Noah, broader too, the kind of body that came from actually enjoying the pain of lifting heavy things, not just wanting to look good in a mirror.

“He’s been good,” Ben said, nodding toward Max. “Eats everything, plays hard, crashes harder. You trained him well.”

"We’ve had him since he was a puppy." She set her mug down and swept a stray hair from her face. "Noah’s the disciplined one. I’m the pushover who lets him on the furniture."

Ben’s mouth curved. “I noticed. He tried the couch trick on me this morning. Didn’t work.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes stayed steady on hers. “You look good, by the way. Traveling agrees with you.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. “I’ve been sitting in conference rooms for three days. Hardly glamorous.”

“Still.” He shrugged, pulling his tank tighter across his chest. “You look better than most after a red-eye.”

Jennifer laughed, looking away, but Max had other ideas. He attempted to shove his head right between her thighs. She stumbled, grabbing the counter to keep from falling on her ass. Ben moved fast, grabbing Max’s collar, but not before he ended up kneeling with his face right at the level of her hips, his breath hot against the thin cotton stretched over her pussy.

"Down, Max," Ben said, his voice rough. The dog obeyed, sulking away, his playtime with his new friend ruined.

Ben stayed crouched a second longer than necessary, eyes flicking up to hers. “Sorry about that. He’s mouthy when he’s excited.”

"It’s fine," she managed, her voice coming out thin and shaky. His nearness was making her hyper-aware of just how little fabric separated her from Ben’s eyes.

Ben rose slowly, close enough for her to catch the crisp scent of his sweat mingled with whatever soap he used—sharp, citrusy. He didn’t step back right away. “Want to take him out back? He’s got energy to burn.”

She nodded, grateful for the distraction. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

He led her through the sliding glass doors onto the wide deck. The fenced yard was green and private. High cedar panels blocked the neighbors. Max bolted down the steps, barked joyfully, grabbed a slobbery tennis ball, and brought it back to drop at Jennifer’s feet.

Ben leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching as she threw the ball. Her dress fluttered around her thighs each time she wound up. Max thundered after it, golden fur flashing in the sun. After the third throw, the dog misjudged and barreled straight into her legs. Jennifer yelped, arms pinwheeling, and started to go down.

Ben was on her in a flash, one strong arm hooking around her waist, the other grabbing her upper arm, hauling her upright against his chest like she weighed nothing. For a long, awkward moment, she was pressed back against him, his forearm just under her tits, his hand spread wide over her ribs. She could feel his heartbeat, hard and steady, and the heat of his body burning through the thin cotton of her dress, every inch of her skin suddenly aware of him.

“You okay?” His voice rumbled near her ear.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Just clumsy.”

His thumb slid along the side of her breast, just a little, just enough to make her wonder if it was an accident or if he wanted her to notice. She didn’t move. Max whined and danced around their legs, but she barely noticed, her whole body buzzing from that tiny touch.

Ben’s grip loosened slowly. He didn’t let go entirely until she turned in the circle of his arm to face him. Their eyes locked. Up close, his lashes were unfairly long. His mouth curved in a half-smile that didn’t quite reach serious.

“You can come check on him anytime, Jennifer,” he said quietly.

Her pulse hammered in her throat. “I just might.”

The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Max nudged her hand again, breaking the spell. She tossed the ball weakly; it barely cleared the deck steps. Ben’s gaze followed her as she bent to pick up another. The dress rode higher on her thighs.

When she finally left, cheeks burning from more than just the sun, the front of her dress was a disaster—Max had smeared golden fur all over her tits, her hips, even a few stubborn hairs stuck in the neckline where the fabric gaped open. She tried to brush it off in the driveway, but most of it clung to her like a dirty secret.

Driving home with the windows down, warm air whipping her hair, Jennifer couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ben’s arm had felt around her waist, his body pressed hard against hers, solid and unyielding. There was a low, needy ache between her legs that refused to go away, no matter how many times she shifted in her seat.

She told herself it was nothing. Just adrenaline. Just the relief of being home, not wanting to face what it meant, she sought out Ben when she could have stayed away.

But when she walked into the empty house and caught her reflection in the hallway mirror—lips swollen, eyes too bright, golden fur smeared across the navy dress like a slutty badge—she knew she was full of shit.