Page 12 of Ryker

Another round of applause ensues.

As part of the bidding process, they’ve each signed an NDA that’s separate from their membership one, agreeing that what happens tonight, like all other nights, stays here, and the announced charity foundation also remains a secret.

I worry that if some of these charities know where the money is coming from, they’ll deny my check.

After going over the rules and procedures, I give the signal and the lights dim, making only one shine on my stage. “May I introduce the first stunning creature of the evening. Stella.”

The crowd hushes as she saunters on stage, looking like she lives for the attention and knows how to keep it. She spins in a slow circle, showing off her snatched waist and ample tits. Stella works the stage like she’s in the running to win a beauty pageant.

No matter who wins or loses tonight, each of these women gets a bolster of confidence being up on this stage, and I love that for them.

Time to make some motherfucking money.

“The bidding starts at one-hundred thousand dollars.”

Several paddles fly up.

“Two hundred thousand.”

A few paddles fall.

This goes on until Stella has racked up a hefty price. “The Butterfly Bid ends at six-hundred-and-ninety-seven thousand dollars. Well done, gorgeous.” I kiss her hand and watch her saunter off the stage. I hope she’s proud of the money she just raised for charity and isn’t pouting in the corner, hoping her competition trips and knocks their teeth out.

Next, I invite Jessie to the stage. Then another woman, and another, and another. Finally, I only have one left.

Tara’s at the edge of the stage, but I can’t see her all that well with this damn spotlight blinding me.

But I’d be a liar to say I hate being on stage where I’ll showcase her like a blue-ribbon pig. Especially since I see she didn’t take my bait and change her fucking dress to one of the available gowns hanging in the dressing room. Blue isn’t going to win. Men like red. Black. White.

I tried to help her. Oh well.

“Our last in the net is Tara.”

The room stills, and my breath catches as she walks onto the stage. She’s stunning. I might have given her shit for wearing a light blue gown, but it’s the perfect shade for her. Her hair cascades down her back, the layers playfully curling in different directions.

Her eyes are bright and bluer than her gown. Her lips glisten with light pink gloss. Her cheeks are rosy, not from blush but from nerves.

She’s an angel standing in a den of devils.

And I’ve suddenly turned into the most devious one of all. My dick hardens, making my tuxedo too stuffy and tight. Desperate for composure, I turn my attention to the audience and work hard to ignore Tara as she sashays across the stage in a circle, giving everyone a good look at what’s up for bid.

“We’ll start the bid at…” I gulp, my throat suddenly dryer than the Sahara.

“Five-hundred thousand dollars,” Tara says, leaning into my microphone.

Then she yanks the straps of her dress, severing them, and the whole thing pools by her feet, leaving her bare, decadent, lush body on display for everyone to see.

A collective gasp ripples through the room as I stand there, stunned for the second time in twenty-four hours.

Paddles raise into the air. The price for her goes up, up, up even though I can’t drag my gaze off her to look at the crowd.

“Bold enough for you?” she mutters behind clenched teeth as she keeps her gaze locked on the men bidding for her.

Well played, princess. I cock my brow and flick my gaze back to the crowd. “One million,” I call out. “Do I have one million dollars?”

More paddles go up, and something in me claws out of my chest that feels a lot like possessiveness. I’m no longer the man with everything. I’m the bastard who’s about to lose a toy I’ve yet to pull out of the package.

When the price for Tara escalates to two million dollars, a vicious, old demon crawls out of my good senses and takes charge of my actions.

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