Page 7 of The Prince and His Bodyguards

But now, Haakon and I are commiserating. Actually, commiserating isn’t the right word because there definitely exists a subset of women who know about our mutation, and who love to serve. They offer their pussies and assholes to us with no questions asked. In fact, these particular ladies are usually begging us for it. The problem is that neither my brother nor I are into these so-called “double-dick groupies.” They’re a little pathetic, if you ask me, like those junkies who enjoy making love to vampires (‘fangbangers’ is I believe what they’re called).

So yes. I’m in Chicago now, looking for a woman who can satisfy me while my big bro is back in Lysenia, looking for something of the same. The difference between us is that Haakon is particularly depraved, and I raise an eyebrow at him in question.

“So how goes the search with you?” I ask in a deceptively casual tone. “Any luck?”

Haakon snorts, his blue eyes going dark.

“Fuck no. The last one wasn’t even a virgin. She told us she was, but when Herman thrust up there, he broke what turned out to be a surgically-repaired hymen. Can you believe it?”

I nod.

“I can. Women will do anything to fuck you, bro. You know that. They want a taste of the Crown Prince’s double dick.”

My brother merely shakes his head, running a hand through his dark hair.

“Yeah, it’s crazy that Mom is even into Dad, right? I swear, I don’t know how they made it this far.”

I shrug.

“I don’twantto know how Thor and Helga work the magic. As far as I know they’ve only had sex twice – once to conceive you, and once to conceive me.”

Haakon snorts.

“Yeah, it’s better that way. Ah, the little lies we tell ourselves to make the days pass easier! But keep me updated, little bro. If Chicago proves fruitful, maybe I’ll go out there myself,” he says, waggling his brows. I merely shrug.

“I doubt you’d like it here. I mean, your thing is virgins, bro. Assholeandpussy virgins to be specific, and those are hard to find in the United States. You know girls here lose it real early. Much earlier than back in Lysenia.”

Haakon’s blue eyes merely darken.

“I do like them young,” he purrs. “Fuck yeah.” But then, his expression normalizes. “Anyways, I gotta go. Keep me updated, brother. In the meantime, fuck them before you get fucked.”

With that rancid goodbye, the screen flickers to black and I sit back in my chair. Some days, I can hardly believe that Haakon is the heir to the throne because “fuck before you get fucked”? Obviously, that’s a completely inappropriate sentiment for a prince of Lysenia, much less our future king. But hey, my brother knows what he wants, and who am I to judge him? I know what I want too, and that’s a fresh, nubile girl who will bounce on my two cocks while screaming with pleasure.

At that moment, my bodyguards enter.

“Highness,” Rizza growls. “Are you ready for your run?”

I look up to see both Rizza and Mizhir dressed in shorts and t-shirts, complete with athletic shoes.

“Yeah, I guess,” I reply, stretching a bit. But then I put my arms down. “What are your thoughts about this debacle, anyways? We haven’t exactly been making any progress.”

Mizhir shoots me a careful look, his black eyes unreadable.

“What do you mean, Your Highness? Do you mean the import-export business? Promoting Lysenian culture? Do Americans not like the pear wine?”

I snort.

“No, not that shit. People love the pear because it’s practically addictive. What I mean is Club Z and the women we’re training there. In fact, training would be over-stating things because we haven’t had the same girl twice.”

My bodymen share a look before nodding.

“That’s true,” Rizza says in a slow voice, his dark brows lowering. “But Highness, forgive me for saying so, but would a professional be a better fit? Of course, if you find the thought of a professional offensive, then we won’t go there.”

I stare at the two dark men, their huge forms practically bristling with muscle.

“You mean a prostitute? Or a porn star?”

Mizhir shrugs, his expression smooth.