Buy Me 2 (Mistress Auctions, #2)(20)

“Get it together, Mandy,” I say to myself in the mirror. After last night I told myself I was done fighting this. I’m not sure why Charles bought me, but I entered the auction for me. I loved last night, and I want to do it again and again. I want to spend the next twenty-nine days in an orgasm-filled haze. It’s clear Charles has opened up something inside me that wants out, and even more importantly, I want it out too.

I told myself this adventure would be about me. Whatever is going on between Charles and the Cortez brothers is between them. Maybe he’s using me for something, but why can't I use him back? I want to open up the floodgates to all my desires and let my sex-starved body loose on him. Last night he made me crave things I had no idea my body wanted. I wonder how much more he could show me while I’m here.

I could walk away from this with a better understanding of who I am and what I want. It’s already clear that I like him taking charge of me and telling me what to do. The idea of not having anything to be in charge of, not having to make sure people stay on schedule, is new to me. I have a rare opportunity to just let it all go.

Pulling my wet hair up into a tight bun, I make my way back to the bedroom. I find my bag sitting next to the bedroom door. I locate my white halter dress inside, and I slip it on, working the zipper up in the back the best I can. I can't help myself; I picked this dress so I could wear the heels from last night. I wonder when I have to return them. Maybe Samantha will let me buy them.

Strapping them on, I look around the room for my purse. When I have no luck, I grab the phone off the bed, and a twinge of disappointment hits me when I see I don’t have a message.

Me: Do you know where my purse is?

Charles responded instantly.

Sir: You don’t need it.

Me: Half my life is in that purse.

Sir: That’s strange because I’m your whole life, and I’m pretty sure half of me isn't in your purse.

I can’t help but roll my eyes, even though my stomach flutters as I read it.

Sir: Don’t roll your eyes at me, kitten. You’re already in trouble as it is.

“What the hell?” Does he really know me that well? I guess I did spend a big portion of the time I worked for him rolling my eyes. It was a lucky guess.

Me: What did I do? Besides be a perfect angel, that is.

Sir: You know.

I can’t think of anything I’ve done wrong. When he left me he had the biggest smile on his face. And I responded to his text message like he asked.

Me: I know you’re being a pain in my butt right now.

Sir: I’ll be more than happy to show you what a pain in the ass really is.

What does that mean? It better not mean…

Me: I hope you mean a spanking, because you will not be sticking that giant thing in my ass!

Sir: Mouth, kitten.

Grr. Whatever. Silencing the phone, I retreat from the room in search of Cupid.

When I reach the living room, I see Cupid standing in the middle of about six racks of clothes, each one around a foot taller than he is. I wouldn't have been able to see him if not for my heels. Cupid is a short, chubby, bald guy, and today he’s dressed in a white three-piece suit. It’s almost funny how our outfits contrast with the reds and blacks that cover everything in here.

“Hi.” I give an awkward wave, a little bit of embarrassment hitting my cheeks. I’d met Cupid a few times; he would pop in and talk to Charles when I was working here, and a few times he had to ask me questions about something at the Cortez when we traded places.

His face lights up with a bubbly smile, which makes me smile too.

“About time you woke up!” He pushes one of the clothes racks out of the way and runs over to hug me as if we're long-lost friends. I hug him back and giggle. His excitement always seems contagious. I wonder how such a happy giddy person could work for Charles. They’re almost like night and day.

“Sorry if I kept you waiting. I must have been exhausted to sleep so late. That’s not like me.”

“I'm sure he exhausted you.”

Cupid wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I blush at his words. He busies himself with the racks of clothes, and it hits me that everyone is going to know I'm hooking up with Mr. Townsend. Everyone I've been working with, the few friends I made in the month I was here, everyone.

Shit. Gossip in casinos spreads like wildfire.

“Most of these should fit you. If something doesn't, leave it on the rack and I'll take it back. If you don't like something, leave that too, but my taste is impeccable so I don't foresee that.” He says it with so much certainly I believe him.

“Hmm. Do you want me to try them on now?” I’m exhausted at the very idea.

“No, we have spa appointments downstairs. I’ll leave them here for you to go through whenever you like.” Making his way over to a big white box on the sofa, he adds, “This is also yours. I have no idea what’s in it, and I was told I wasn't allowed to open it.” He points at it and stares at me, the silent message clear. He wants me to open it so he can see inside.

Walking over to the box, I lift the lid, exposing lingerie. It looks like there’s something in every color. “The good stuff,” Cupid says beside me, and I drop the lid, my face turning crimson.

I’m not sure why he bought it. One, I’m not allowed to wear panties and two, the tops of my dresses are normally tight enough that I don’t have to wear a bra. Most of them have a built-in bra, and I’m not rocking a ton of boobage as it is.