Buy Me (Mistress Auctions Book 2)(2)

By: Alexa Riley

“Hey, pretty boy. Got some scissors around here?”

“Sure thing, Miss Foxy.”

“How do you wrap them around your finger like that?” I ask, watching the waiter retreat quickly to do as Tiffany asked. He’s probably hoping for just a sliver of her attention.

She rolls her eyes at my question. “They’re in love with Foxy Bow, a person I play on stage, not me.” I can hear the irritation in her words, but she smiles as she talks. I can see through what she’s saying since I’ve gotten to know her the past thirty days. I’ve been here serving out my contract and we’ve slowly become good friends in that time.

All kinds of men flock to her, promising her a world of riches and everything she could ever want. She always turns them down, not wanting any of it. I had been a little envious of how easy it was for her to get a man’s attention, but now I can see it’s not so sweet on the other side. Most people want the fantasy of her, but no one knows who she really is. The first mistake most men make is promising her money. She has the top-selling show on the strip; Tiff is not in need of anything.

“I’m sorry.” I try to offer her comfort, but don’t want to push it. If she wants to talk about it she will. I know better than anyone that sometimes you don’t want to talk about things from your past that haunt you. It’s best to leave them there, and maybe they’ll finally go away.

“I don’t need to be someone’s trophy,” is all she says.

Quickly, the waiter returns, scissors in hand. Dropping in front of me, Tiff goes to work on my pencil skirt, taking several inches off the bottom and adding a slit up my thigh on both sides.

“Damn, Mandy. You look crazy hot now.”

I feel my face warm at her words, but maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through my system. Glancing down at myself again, I can’t help but smile.

“Drink up. The band starts in about thirty minutes, and you need to drink however many drinks it takes you to get on the dance floor.”

I feel so relaxed and sexy sitting back in my chair, the slits in my skirt showing off my thighs. I take a long sip from my new drink, and lick the remaining sugar from the rim. Maybe I should have told her I don’t need another to make me dance, but I don’t have to because as soon as the first song blasts across the bar, I find myself on top of a table with Tiff as she teaches me some of her favorite moves from her shows.

The bar patrons cheer as we lose ourselves in the music. I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun or felt this free—no responsibilities sitting on my shoulders. Tomorrow is a new day. I just can’t bring myself to care about anything other than this moment. Throwing my head back, I close my eyes and let the music take me. Until the spell is broken by the bane of my existence.

“Get your ass down right fucking now.”

Dropping my head forward, I open my eyes to see Mr. Townsend standing there. He looks as hard as ever, with a jaw that could crack stone. For once in my life I’m actually taller than him because I’m up on the table. It’s not often a man towers over me with thanks to my height and my love of heels, but he does. There was no way to miss it, not when he hovered over my every move while I worked for him. He acted like I was an incompetent moron who didn’t know how to do their job. He gave me projects I could do in my sleep, and still micromanaged me. He never trusted me with anything, and it annoyed me every second of the past thirty days.

This past month has been daunting. At first, I bit my tongue because he was my boss, but then a few times I couldn’t help it and made a few snide remarks. When he seemed to like it, I decided to ignore him. It is difficult to do because even though I have the urge to kick him in the balls a few times a day, he is attractive. No. ‘Attractive’ isn’t the right word. He’s hard and gruff—so not traditionally handsome. The attraction I feel for him rubs on my nerves. I feel this draw to him, but I hate it. How can I want a man who thinks I’m a nitwit?

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