Page 21 of The Shame Game

“Dehumanization.”

She frowned. “I don’t know what that will look like.”

“That’s okay. I do.”

When she shot him an exasperated look, he patted her foot again. “You’ll have your safeword, as always. And if you don’t like it or it makes you uncomfortable, we stop. But honestly? I think you’ll like this.”

“You do, huh?” She shook her head, but she was smiling. His eyes were dancing with a combination of humor and anticipation, and his lips were curled in what could only be described as a gleeful grin. She loved that he was never afraid to show enthusiasm, to show her how much he enjoyed exploring kink with her. So many dominants maintained a stern façade all the time, and James was certainly capable of that—that first humiliation scene was an excellent example—but he was never afraid to show his joy.

“I really do. And IknowI’ll like it.”

She laughed when he winked again. “Okay, Sir. I’m yours for the weekend.”

He lifted her foot to give it a smacking kiss. “That’s my girl. Noon tomorrow.”

She blinked in surprise. “We’re doing an all-day scene?”

“In a manner of speaking. I want you to get a good night’s sleep, and in the morning, take a bath. I’ve got Sadie coming in to give you a massage at ten-thirty.”

Amanda’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

“I want you nice and relaxed.”

“Before you make me nice and tense?” she guessed drily.

“Nice and anxious. Just a little bit.”

“Uh-huh.” Some of that anxiety was already trickling in, but she didn’t mind. She liked the anticipation, and the sense of unease that came with not knowing exactly what was going to happen. She trusted James. Keeping her safe was his priority, and knowing that meant she could follow his lead into dark corners.

“In the meantime,” he went on, “I ordered dinner. It’s keeping warm in the oven.”

“Oh, excellent.” She wiggled her toes in his lap. “Can we eat it here?”

“Sure. But only one more glass of wine. I don’t want you dehydrated tomorrow.”

“Okay.” There were only about two glasses left in the bottle, anyway. “Then after, sex.”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“No sex.” He patted her ankle, then shifted her feet off his lap and pushed to his feet.

“What happened to ‘I miss your pussy’?” she wanted to know.

“I do. And I’m going to be getting plenty of it tomorrow.” He slipped on a pair of oven mitts and pulled an aluminum tray from the oven.

“Oh, I get it.” She twisted around on the couch so she could watch him work. “This is you keeping me horny for whatever shenanigans you have planned.”

He plated the pasta and roasted vegetables with a chuckle. “You see right through me.”

“I could just take care of business myself, you know,” she teased, and fluttered her lashes innocently when he turned on her with an icy gaze.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, and she knew he wasn’t kidding. After fourteen years, she could pretty much tell when there was room to wiggle around an order for fun and when disobedience would end very, very badly.

“Fine,” she said with a grumpy scowl that was only partly affected. She’d really been looking forward to sex, dammit. “Whatever you’ve got planned better be worth the wait.”

He carried the plates over, his smile sharp as a blade. “You’ll see.”

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