As I step inside my Anchorage hotel room, I rip off my tie and toss it aside. Fuck this collared shirt and suit coat—I don’t feel comfortable anywhere but my own piece of property—and certainly not at the stuffy bank where I spent the afternoon.

Opening the mini bar I grab a beer. Cracking it open, I take a swig before stripping out of my tee shirt and these dress pants.

I loved my mother to death, but putting me in charge of her philanthropy after she passed away was a big fucking commitment. One that forces me out of the comfort of my cabin and requires me to come to the city once a month to sign on the dotted line.

I flip on the television and lie on the bed, drinking my beer. Damn, knowing I must go to my jackass ex-stepfather, Luther’s place later tonight, puts me in a sour mood.

But then, as I’m flipping through the channels something catches my eye.

Or rather, someone.

A nondescript interviewer leans in, asking a question of a woman; a woman who is so fucking beautiful it makes my cock hard. My eyes are instantly glued to the tv screen.

“Tell us, Justine Van De Shire, how do you defend your auctioning off your virginity?”

I run a hand over my beard waiting for her to answer.

Living alone in the woods isn’t for every man, and certainly isn’t for any woman I’ve met yet—but I don’t care much for relationship bullshit anyway.

But when I look at this woman, I forget all about my ideals.

“Sex has never been taboo in my family. As you know, the Van De Shires made their fortune from adult films. And since Alaska recently voted to allow the sale of sex, I decided that auctioning off my virginity, with the proceeds going to a worthy cause would be the perfect way to take control of not only my sexuality but to put my money where my mouth is.”

The news anchor purses her lips, apparently not knowing how to respond to this well-spoken woman with long, dark tousled hair, pale pink lips, and caramel colored skin.

“And where exactly is your mouth, Ms. Van De Shire?”

Justine smiles serenely and crosses her legs. Her long, lean legs. “With Humans Against Harming Animals.”

At that, I almost spit out my drink. She’s raising money for HAHA?

“According to my research, there are no animals in Alaska that are currently facing endangerment. Some opponents may use that fact to suggest this is a gimmick.”

“And to them, I say eff off.”

The news anchor covers her mouth in shock, but I laugh out loud. So does Justine.

“I mean, it,” she says. “Animals aren’t endangered in Alaska right now because people have worked so hard to ensure the natural land is preserved. I want to work toward that end.”

“By selling your virginity.”

Justine shakes her head, a smile splayed across her heart-shaped face, her eyebrows angled and hinting at her expertise. “No, I’m not selling anything. I’m auctioning my virginity off. And the highest bidder will have me for an entire night.”

The interview ends and I groan as her face leaves the screen. The television scrolls a link to her website with the rules for the auction.

I could so easily go to the website, click on the link, take the steps to show up at that auction... to pay whatever it takes to have her.

But I won’t pay for sex—especially not to fund HAHA.

And I’ve lived in a city long enough to know I don’t want the strings that are attached when a woman finds out my family’s net worth. I’d rather be alone for the rest of my goddamned life than be with a gold-digger.

And this woman would go into the night knowing how much I could afford.

I don’t buy women—no matter what the cause.

Especially not this woman. She is fucking gorgeous, and while she came across as educated and intelligent in the interview—she’s still auctioning off access to her cunt. There’s no good that can come from that and the fact she doesn’t realize that worries me.

In the shower, I run a washcloth over my ladder of abs, exhaling when I think how long it’s been since I’ve slept with a woman. When I think about sleeping with that woman... with Justine...

As I hold my shaft, warm water runs over my beard and face, and my cock is hard as fuck. Damn. I close my eyes thinking about Justine. A woman with passion and fire blazing. And a virgin pussy that is tight and wanting. A woman who knows what she wants and how she wants it—taking control in the sexiest goddamn way.

I pump my shaft imaging Justine riding me, her tits bouncing as she screams my name. Hell, my thick cock is ready to explode as I picture her running her hands through her hair as she climaxes against me, as she whimpers in release.

She grew up around the porn industry and every red-blooded American man knows about the videos the Van De Shires have produced over the years.

The idea that a woman could grow up around that much blatant sex and still be a virgin gets my cock hungry as hell. I want that woman next to me, right now. I want to fill her with my cock, showing her what a real man is like. Not those men who will show up to buy her.

It kills me to think she’ll lose her virginity to some old dude with the most cash.

So, instead, I imagine her with me, her tight cunt dripping as I fill her the way she needs. Completely. I come hard at the thought of it, wishing like hell she was with me now in this shower. I’d bend her over and take hold of her smooth ass.

But I know Justine is about as close to my reality as the television screen, and am wondering who at HAHA okayed this publicity stunt. Last time I checked the organization wasn’t hard up for cash.

* * *

An hour or so later I’m parking my truck in my mom’s driveway. Well, it was my mom’s when she was still alive. Now it’s Luther’s place and it tears me up inside to come here at all.

As I get out of the truck, I try to stomach what he’s done to the massive estate. He spent my mom’s money on remodeling her mansion—and it’s lewd as all get out. Gold gilded gates, heated indoor pool, and last time I was here I counted six stone fireplaces.

He may have been a decent enough guy when my mother was alive—decent enough for a saint like her to have married him—but he took her death in the worst way possible.

He started fucking everything on two legs with abandon. It’s fucking disgusting, the way he’s taken his pain and turned it into something so damn ruinous.

As I walk toward the door, I see a young woman—barely legal, crying, high heels in hand, leaving it.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she says, sniffling.

My brows pull together. She doesn’t look fine to me. She’s crying and cold and fumbling with her phone. “Did Luther call you a car?”

“No.” She wipes her eyes, trying to gain her composure.

I pull out my phone. “I’m calling you a car.” I give the cab company the address and tell the woman that the car will be here in a few minutes.

“Thank you, it was stupid of me to come out here at all.”

“Did he hurt you?” I ask, needing to make sure she is physically and mentally okay.

She shakes her head. “No, but it wasn’t exactly smart to come home with a stranger.”

The cab pulls up and I watch her get in the car, hoping that next time she won’t end up in this situation.

Now that Alaska changed their laws, Luther has made it his own personal vendetta to make sure every woman in this state has what they need... and he promises to pay substantially.

It’s fucking sick, the way he is using his money to buy what he wants, and when he wants it.

When Luther opens the door he is wearing a silk bathrobe.

It’s nasty, to be perfectly honest, and if we weren’t co-owners of several substantial pieces of Alaskan wilderness, I’d never come here. But I need to make sure he doesn’t do anything rash with his share of my mother’s fortune.

He’s creepy as fuck and I’m just glad my mom isn’t alive to watch him picking up twenty-one-year-old women at bars. He’s nearly sixty for God’s sake, he should be sleeping with women his own age, at the very least.

Knocking on the door, Luther grins, having expected me. “Come in, Ryder,” he says then adds, “What did you think of that pretty piece of meat?”

“Come on, Luther. You know what I think of that.”

He laughs. “Damn, Ryder. You’re wound so damn tight, just like your mother was.”

I clench my jaw, unable to speak. This man knows how to get under my skin in two seconds flat, and tonight is no exception.

“Oh, calm down, calm down,” he says patronizing me and I’m about to leave right then and there but showing up here once a month and having a drink with him seems to keep him on my good side—and that’s important considering we aren’t just talking thousands of dollars. We’re talking hundreds of millions.

My mother’s millions.

I’m so fucking glad she can’t see what her second husband has become.

And that’s me being nice.

“Just come in,” he says, waving me inside. “I just opened a vintage Pinot Noir.”

I reluctantly follow him into his den where a television blares. “Surprised you’re not out on the town tonight, looking for some ripe, young thing,” he tells me, handing me the wine.

I set the wine down and walk over to his liquor cabinet. Choosing an oak barrel, twenty-year-old whiskey, I pour myself a drink, ignoring Luther’s dislike for helping myself.

Like that motherfucker should talk. He’s helped himself to everything my mother never intended for him to have.

I take a seat before answering. “Not really my scene, never has been,” I say before taking a sip of the whiskey.

A smirk covers Luther’s self-satisfied face. “You never have been comfortable with the finer things in life, have you?”

“Let’s not do this.”

Luther shrugs, his attention on the television. The gorgeous dark haired woman from the interview I saw earlier today is on the screen. This time she’s in a flannel shirt mostly unbuttoned, her beautiful tits on display. She’s wearing tiny cut-off shorts revealing her tanned and toned legs, and her work boots are a nod to the great outdoors.

The Brooks Range is behind her and Luther turns up the volume as the Entertainment News anchor explains who this woman is. Emblazoned on the screen are the words: HEIRESS AUCTIONS HER VIRGINITY.

“Now that is a tempting proposition.” Luther raises his eyebrows, watching the television with interest.

I run my hand over my beard, tensing as I listen to the replay of the story. And what really makes my blood boil is the fact the Luther has leaned in closer to the television screen and is practically salivating at the sight of her.

The thought that this woman, so fucking beautiful and pure, is selling her body, and that a man like Luther could buy her, makes me sick. No man should taste her for a dollar amount. One look at her and I know she’s priceless.

“The auction is set for next Sunday at the Anchorage convention center. The auction has many conservatives in the state in an uproar, but HAHA has released this video about her controversial decision.”

The show splices to a clip of Justine on the mountain, her long hair whipping in the wind. With heartfelt inflection, she says, “Money is easy for someone in my position to give, but this is my choice, my right.”

Luther cackles beside me. “That woman is a fine piece of ass.”

“Shut up, Luther. Don’t talk about her like that. Did you know about HAHA’s part in this?”

He just laughs. “No, I don’t follow that sort of thing. Besides, why the frown? It’s for a good cause right?”

I narrow my eyes, disgusted with this man.

“Oh, I see. You’re jealous. Do you want her virgin pussy? God knows you have enough money to pay for her.”

“I will not pay for sex.”

I may not know Justine, but I know enough. Her intentions may be good, but her plan is flawed.

“Good,” Luther grins and then lifts his wine glass to his lips. “Then I won’t have to outbid you when I pay to take her innocence.”