Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
“I doubt you’d like it here. I mean, your thing is virgins, bro. Asshole and pussy 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.
“One or the other. Or both. What we do know is that it’s likely a working girl would have no trouble taking you. They wouldn’t mind being double penetrated, nor would they start speaking in tongues, or start crying when it happens. That’s the worst,” he adds.
“Absolutely the worst,” Rizza grunts in agreement. “I hate seeing a woman cry.”
I roll my eyes.
“You guys are such softies, despite being part of the Lysenian elite guard,” I remark. “Seriously, half the woman we train end up in tears.”
“They do,” Rizza concedes. “And I hate it.”
I merely shake my head again.
“No, I appreciate the suggestion but I’m not going to use a professional. It’s not suitable and it’s fucking embarrassing if you think about it. Why would a prince need a working girl, much less a porn star?”
“Well, I’m just saying that these ladies are used to double penetration,” Rizza says in a slow tone. “You wouldn’t need to sic us on them. They’d be … .ah, experienced.”
“That’s true, but no. I’m not going to pay for sex. We’ll find her, sooner or later.”
With that, the conversation ends and I disappear into my chamber to change into running clothes. Mizhir, Rizza and I work out together because I like to stay fit with a combination of aerobic exercise and strength training. But my bodyguards’ comments are disheartening because we’ve been in Chicago months now, with no leads. Where is my special girl? And how do we find her? Gritting my teeth, I pull on my sneakers while vowing to double my efforts … or to die trying.
CHAPTER 4
Ali
It’s pretty pathetic that I’m doing this, but hey, I’m an amateur detective and I’m not going to let my first experience with Club Z deter me. Okay, so I came away empty-handed last night, but now I’m back at the club the next afternoon, determined to use my wits to get what I want.
“Um, hi I’m Ali?” I say while shooting the doorman a dazzling smile. “I’m not sure if I’m technically on the visitors list, but maybe?”
The doorman squints his eyes at me with no hint of recognition whatsoever.
“No,” he states in a flat voice.
“Come on,” I wheedle, doing a twirl in my short dress so that the hem flares out a bit, showing off my creamy thighs. “It’ll be fun!”
He stares at me again, those black eyes impenetrable.
“No,” he says again. “Scram. We don’t deal with underage girls.”
I bite my lip because I’m not technically underage, I don’t think. Nineteen is legal, right? Maybe not for alcohol, but since this is a private venue, I don’t think we’re breaking any laws.