Page 27 of The Shame Game

She licked her lips and though over her options. She wasn’t allowed to speak unless she needed to safeword, and being annoyed certainly didn’t warrant that. She could only use puppy behavior to get his attention, so even though she felt like an idiot, she lifted a paw and patted his knee.

He spared her a sharp glance. “No, Mandy,” he said firmly, and turned back to his sandwich.

Before she could reason it through, she did it again, hard enough to make her collar bell ring loudly and her breasts sway.

“I said no,” he said, his gaze like steel. “If you’re going to be a bad puppy, I’ll have to put you in your crate while I eat my lunch.”

A crate?Oh, hell no.She had no idea if that threat was an idle one or not—she’d seen no evidence of a crate downstairs, and she knew there wasn’t one in their bedroom, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t managed to squirrel one away somewhere just in case she decided to test him. Deciding not to risk it, she let out a soft whine but subsided, easing back to sit more firmly on her heels. The action made the plug inside her shift again, and this time her whine had nothing to do with being scolded.

His eyes danced with wicked delight. “Slutty puppy,” he chided gently, and while she blinked in surprise, he picked up a plate and a small bowl. “Come on, let’s go to the dining room.”

She shifted forward onto all fours and began to crawl after him, her breath coming in shallow pants. She was almost painfully aware of the heavy sway of her breasts beneath her as she moved, the nipples peaked and swollen, of the slick slide of her thighs. She was turned on, and it was confusing the hell out of her.

Her thoughts drew to a halt with a jerk when she accidentally planted a hand on the trailing leash, letting out a startledoofand nearly falling on her face. She swiped at the thin length of pink vinyl, trying to pick it up, but the thick mitten made her fingers useless. She pushed it to the side, but when she tried to move forward it slid right back into her path.

She frowned at it for a second, then leaned down and picked it up in her teeth. She had to tilt her head back and clamp her jaw to keep it from slithering free, and she saw James waiting patiently, an indulgent smile on his face as he watched.

“Clever girl,” he said, his voice full of pride, and she flushed with pleasure, her whole body going warm.

He turned and walked through the doorway into the dining room and she followed, moving carefully so she wouldn’t slip on the hardwoods. The dog paw pad mittens with the added texture kept her from slipping too much, but her knee pads were slick and kept wanting to slide around. By the time she’d made it into the room, he was already seated at his customary place at the head of the long table, the plate in front of him and the bowl set off to the side.

She stopped beside his chair and eased back on her haunches, her mouth watering when she got a look at the thick sandwich on his plate. She could smell the sourdough bread he’d used, see the thick slices of cheese and roast beef. He picked it up and brought it to his mouth for a big bite, and a whine came out before she could stop it.

He glanced down at her as he chewed, his eyes bright with humor. He swallowed and said, “Hungry, Mandy girl?” in a low, rumbling voice that didn’t make her think of food at all, and suddenly she was squirming for a completely different reason.

His gaze sharpened, pure lust blazing in his eyes, and for a moment she thought he would say to hell with the scene and fuck her right there on the dining room floor. But then her stomach growled, and though the lust didn’t fade, he picked up the bowl.

His smile was wicked. “You’re going to have to drop the leash if you want to eat,” he told her, and she realized with a start that she was still holding the leash in her mouth.

She bent her head to drop it on the floor, wincing a little when it hit the wood with a wet slap, and a thin trickle of drool dropped from her mouth to land on her breast. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment, and she lifted a hand to swipe at the wet streak.

His sharp “No!” had her freezing in place.

His hand closed over hers and pushed it back down, then gently cupped her chin and forced it up. His eyes were still bright with lust and humor, but under there was a kind of understanding that inexplicably made her eyes prick with tears.

“Puppies drool,” he said calmly, rubbing his thumb over the streak of spittle on her chin, then dropped his hand to her breast. Her breath clogged in her throat as his thumb stroked over the wetness there, rubbing slowly back and forth until her skin was dry.

“There we go,” he murmured, and squeezed her breast gently. “All better.”

She eyed her breast when he removed his hand, the skin dry and the nipple tight and flushed. When she looked back up at him, the understanding smile had been replaced with a knowing smirk that made embarrassment pour through her. She fought the need to squirm, knowing it didn’t matter because he could see it anyway. The embarrassment, the bright flush of shame…and the flood of arousal that followed.

“Now,” he said briskly, and picked up the bowl. “Puppies need food. If you eat your lunch like a good girl, you can have a treat after.”

She winced a little, bracing herself for him to put the bowl on the floor, wondering how she’d manage that. Then he plucked a piece of roast beef from the bowl and held it out for her.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged when she hesitated, and she leaned forward. “But no nipping.”

She hesitated, her mouth inches from his fingers. She hadn’t even thought of nipping until he’d mentioned it, and suddenly she could see the possibilities for fun in this game. But it wouldn’t do to disobey a direct order, at least not this soon. So she took the food from his fingers, keeping her mouth soft, and beamed at him innocently.

He smiled back, clearly not believing it for a minute. “Good girl,” he said with a laugh, and held out another piece of roast beef.

Lunch passed quickly, with James alternating feeding her and himself. She followed him into the kitchen, her leash once again clamped between her teeth—this time placed there by James because he’d said it was cute—then into the living room after he’d dealt with the dishes. He sat on the sofa in his usual corner and picked up the book on the end table, then patted the cushion next to him. “Up.”

Relieved, she crawled forward and up onto the cushion beside him. He reached up to ease the leash out of her mouth, unclipping and setting it aside. “There we go, that’s better. What a pretty girl you are.”

She preened a little under the praise, tilting her head into his hand as he stroked over her hair. His hand continued down, trailing down the fuzzy fur and collar covering her neck to her breasts. She was still on all fours, so they dangled down, and she had a brief spurt of anxiety about how they must look. Normally she didn’t even think about being naked in front of James—he loved her, and he loved her body, even on the days when she didn’t. But now, every worry she had about the effects of gravity and age came rushing to the fore.

“Look at these,” he murmured, and her face heated. He lifted one breast in his hand, holding its weight while rubbed her hardening nipple with his thumb, his touch firm, before switching to the other. He stroked them, his touch idle and soft, watching her face all the while.

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