Obeying Olivia by Kim Dare Page B

sitting room, she was acutely aware of his presence, just a few steps behind her.
    Sudden tension crackled around them as if the submissive had brought a whole room full of static electricity with him.
    Sitting down, Olivia waved her hand toward the other end of the small sofa, inviting him to join her there.
    “Thank you, miss.” His movements were neat and confident, his deference appearing both natural and highly erotic.
    Olivia turned in her seat, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up beneath her as she settled herself comfortably. She didn’t miss the way Mark’s eyes lingered on her stocking clad feet, but that was a question for later. “How old are you?”
    “Twenty-five, miss.” Mark didn’t ask her the same question in return. Smart boy—she had well over a decade on him.
    Olivia took a sip of her wine. “And you’ve been on the scene for how long?”
    Mark turned more fully toward her, but he made no effort to relax the way she did. “Three years, while taking it seriously, miss,” he said.
    “Seriously, meaning?” she prompted.
    “Meaning that’s how long I’ve been looking for a twenty-four-seven, female-led relationship.”
    “So you’re not just in it for the scenes?” Olivia asked, her tone still casual, as if she hardly cared what the answer would be.
    “No.” There was strength in the way he said the word. He obviously hadn’t lost his spine when he’d discovered his submission. A little shiver of anticipation ran over Olivia’s skin. Her clit tingled its complete approval.
    He had a nice, low voice, with just the hint of an accent she couldn’t quite place.
    “My father was Scottish, my mother is Irish, and I grew up in London, miss.”
    Olivia tilted her head to one side. He was studying her carefully, obviously trying to work out how she’d react to him sharing those facts.
    “Impressive,” she allowed. “Not many submissives would be able to guess what I was thinking after such a short acquaintance.”
    He dropped his gaze, but not before she saw the pleasure in his eyes at the compliment. He seemed to relax, just a little, but the tension in the room merely doubled in response. Everything seemed to be balanced on a perilously sharp knife’s edge as they each tried to work out if the other was offering what she or he was looking for.
    And she knew that she was ultimately the one who would decide if they kept their balance or if someone ended up getting cut. Adjusting her position, she stretched out her legs along the sofa, until her stockinged feet rested against the side of Mark’s leg.
    “May I?” he asked, with a glance down at her toes.
    Olivia nodded her permission as she took another sip of her drink, curious to see what he might do with the opportunity.
    Lifting her right foot, Mark began to carefully massage her sole. His efforts quickly centered on the parts of her foot that her high heels had placed the most strain on.
    He looked up every so often, checking her reaction. His desire to please was almost tangible, but the real pleasure he took in the task didn’t so much hang unseen in the air, as rise up very visibly from his crotch. With both his hands occupied, there was little he could do to hide the way his erection tented his trousers.
    A touch of color rose to his cheeks. She hid her smile behind her glass and, reaching out with her other leg; let her left foot slide up his thigh until it rested directly over his fly.
    Mark’s hands froze. He didn’t look up. He didn’t blink. He didn’t even seem to breathe as he stared down at the way her toes lay against the line of his cock.
    “Why did you stop?” she asked, all innocence.
    “Sorry, miss.” His hands gradually began to move again, thumbs rubbing circles under her arch.
    He had wonderful hands, strong and confident in their work. Olivia had never guessed that there could be so many pleasure centers located in her foot, or that her soles had a direct line to her clit. Behind the soft