Page 5 of The Dragon King’s Pet

Her makeup was much heavier than she would usually have worn it, her lipstick a deep crimson red, her lips lined to make the most of their fullness. Her eyes were smoky, like a forest fire, thick black slabs of tone gradating out to thick smog near her perfectly plucked brows.

She was wearing a very short black leather skirt and a pale sequined tank top that flashed a hundred colors as it caught the light. The look in its entirety lacked grace, but Traci said men liked obvious displays of sexual appeal—which was why the tank top was cut in such a way that the sides of Mika’s breasts were intermittently visible when she moved.

“Do you think this is maybe, I don’t know, a bit…” Mika lowered her voice. “Slutty?”

“There’s no such thing,” Traci said. “Don’t slut-shame yourself, Mikkie. You’re allowed to be hot. You don’t have to apologize for being beautiful. God! You’re so repressed! Look how hot you are!”

Looking in the mirror, Mika didn’t deny that she looked appealing. She just wondered what kind of appeal she really had in that moment.

“Okay, there’s a cab downstairs waiting to take you to him,” Traci said, interrupting her thoughts with more words. “Good luck!”

Mika made her way down to the cab feeling a bit like an automaton. This was what pretty girls were supposed to do. They were supposed to find their princes and get laid. That was how this worked. It didn’t matter how weird or awkward it felt. It had to be right, everybody said so, after all.

She got into the cab and made the short journey to the prince’s hotel without incident. As she stepped out after paying the driver, she could feel eyes on her. Every male in the area seemed to be drawn toward her, their heads swiveling to watch her walk into the lobby.

Being noticed by men wasn’t a totally foreign experience, but she had never felt it so intensely before. They seemed to hang on every move she made, and she understood more powerfully than ever what it meant to be a beautiful young woman, an object of pure desire.

Back in New York things had been different. She had usually been wearing a lot more clothing, for starters. And she was still three years away from being able to drink legally, or go to clubs. In Ibiza, she had suddenly become fully adult.

She wondered how she hadn’t noticed before. Then she realized she had never been out like this alone before, dressed like this. All the other outings she had been part of a gaggle and the attention had been spread between them. Now that she was on her own, it was all focused on her—and not in the way it was on a photo shoot. That was professional, protected. This was the erotic wild. This was a realm where masculine desire was held in check only by limited social mores.

Making her way to the elevator, she pressed the button for the top floor. The prince had the penthouse. She remembered that, as he’d told her and Traci that about a thousand times. When she reached the top, his guards let her past without question. Apparently it wasn’t uncommon for the prince to receive scantily clad female company.

She found the young man they’d met in one of the clubs lounging on a cheetah suede chaise, waving his fingers to the accompaniment of a concerto playing on his phone. It was tinny and pretentious and silly all at the same time, but it made her smile.

He was handsome, traditionally handsome but with a veneer of slickness over his visage that made him look a little bit airbrushed. He smiled aimlessly in her direction, his teeth pristine white like bits of kitchen tile. She was used to attractive, polished people, but the prince looked as though he had been professionally constructed somewhere.

He was hot, she told herself. Everybody said so. From the tips of his frosted black hair to the many rings on his fingers, he was hot.

“Beauty, you came,” he said with a broad smile. He was quite charming, this prince. He rose from the chaise and came forward with a sway she wasn’t sure was entirely masculine or not, but didn’t want to question. He was elegant, she told herself. Yes, that’s what he was. Elegant and suave and princely. She should probably be aroused.

“I came,” she agreed. She was standing sort of stiffly, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. “You invited me.”

“Yes, of course, Cindy.”

“It’s, uhm, Mika,” she said.

“Mika, right, of course…” He leaned over to a nearby tray coated in a fine white powder and casually inhaled a line via a little gold cylinder. “You’re so beautiful words can’t name you.” He extended the cylinder toward her. “Want some?”

“Er, maybe later,” Mika said, wanting to be polite. This was sort of exciting and sort of scary. It didn’t quite feel like she thought her first time would feel like. There was a certain lack of romance, but maybe that’s not how sex really was. Traci was always telling her that she was too romantic and that life didn’t work the way she thought it did.

“Want some of this?” His hand went to his crotch and grasped at the fabric.

“Uhm… well…” Mika really wasn’t sure she’d made a good decision in coming here. The prince was attractive, but something really didn’t feel right. She had to remind herself that she was there to lose her virginity to a handsome, rich man.

“Of course you do,” he laughed as if he’d told a joke. Before Mika’s bewildered gaze, he pulled the front of his pants down and let his genitals spill out.

His cock was not as fearsome as she had imagined it would be. It didn’t look much like any cock she’d seen on the internet either. It wasn’t just that it was smaller, it was that it was floppier, a bit like a pool noodle that had seen better days, sort of hanging limply over the waistband, with bits of testicle hanging similarly askew.

“Suck me,” he suggested. “Make me hard.”

Mika’s experimentation had not extended to oral activities. She’d never quite seen the point of it, but standing before the prince, she guessed it was probably necessary to take things to the next level.

“Okay, uhm…”

He went to the end of his bed and laid back, assuming a position that seemed familiar to him, his legs splayed in a way that reminded her of a frog kicking through water, his cock twitching like a dying thing. Part of her wanted to leave, but she knew she couldn’t go back to her hotel still a virgin. This was what everyone did. Maybe if she did it too, she’d understand what the fuss was about. Maybe it was like beer, gross at first, but sort of good if you drank enough of it.

She went to her knees at the end of the bed and wrapped her hand around his member.