set her glass down. “Do you have a well-rehearsed answer for that observation, too?”
He didn’t. Mark sat perfectly silently for what felt like a very long time, while his mind raced. “Some male subs feel submissive toward all women. I just…don’t,” he finished lamely.
Olivia nodded. For a moment, Mark thought that answer had been acceptable, too. Then, she stood up. Mark quickly rose. At their full heights, she was almost a foot shorter than him. Long locks of blonde hair fell back from her face as she tilted her head back to look him in the eye.
“I’m in room four-thirty-three. If you decide I’m one of those rare women you do feel submissive toward, you have ten minutes. If you’re not at my door by then, don’t bother joining me.” She picked up her glass and her handbag. “I’ve already spoken to the organizer. You have her permission to leave your duties here if you decide to accept my invitation.”
Mark could only stare after her, completely speechless, as she walked across the room, stiletto heels lending a gentle sway to her hips. Black seams ran up the backs of her stockings, holding him mesmerized.
His lips ached to be allowed to kiss his way up those seams. His hands ached for the privilege of helping her into and out of such garments at the beginning and end of a night. His cock just ached.
Chapter Two
Olivia Marshall rolled her shoulders, quietly enjoying the sensation as all the tension that had built up inside her during the working week gradually began to fade away. No more trying to be polite as she pointed out why her boss’ latest idea was flawed. No more toeing the company line.
It was club night, and she was free to be herself in a way she seldom was in the “real” world. Olivia smiled to herself as she paced slowly around the hotel room and waited to see if her invitation would be accepted.
It was a nice room. At some point, someone had obviously put a lot of time and effort into decorating it. But it was hard for her to appreciate mere prettiness. The true beauty she’d seen in Mark while he’d served behind the bar put even the most exquisite of soft furnishings in the shade.
Setting down her glass of wine, Olivia flicked her hair back over her shoulder and glanced into the gilt-edged mirror that hung just to the right of the suite’s sofa.
Her eyes already held that sparkle that only appeared there when she was ready to play. Olivia raised an eyebrow at the reflection. There was no guarantee Mark would make it that far. There was only so much that could be garnered from public observations.
At that moment, a polite rap on the door let Olivia know that he had made his decision—and with five minutes to spare. Humming contentedly under her breath, Olivia strolled leisurely toward the door.
There was no second knock attempting to hurry her along. Olivia mentally put a tick in the box marked patient. Even after she’d opened the door, she still took her time. Slowly running her gaze over Mark’s body, she took in every detail.
Neatly pressed black trousers that had been just tight enough to show off a very nice backside whenever he ventured onto the public side of the bar. A white shirt, the sleeves folded back above his elbows, indicating his readiness to work.
Olivia lifted her gaze higher. Mark’s hair was very dark. He must have shaved just before leaving his house that evening because there wasn’t even a hint of stubble on his jaw.
Their eyes met. For a few seconds, Mark held her gaze, studying Olivia and assessing her expression in return. When he finally lowered his eyes, it was an obvious attempt to signal his lack of interest in staring her down.
Olivia reached out and trailed her fingertips over his jaw. She’d been right. Perfectly smooth. She couldn’t help but wonder where else he might have shaved.
Letting her smile grow wider, Olivia finally stepped back and allowed Mark in. As she returned to the suite’s