The Dragon Prince’s Daddy: An M/M MPreg Shifter Romance (Royal Heat Book 1)

by Lorelei M. Hart

  His shoulders sagged, and I had to remind myself to keep my hands to myself. He didn’t need my arms around him, comforting him, caressing him…

  “It’s just,” he began, finally turning towards me, his eyes now red-rimmed, “when I was a kid, I had dreams, you know? I wanted to be a racecar driver… or an astronaut, or an artist, or a zookeeper. I wanted to be something, anything, except the fucking Prince of Montipan.”

  I moved closer to him at my dragon’s urging. He was hurting, and I told myself that it was only natural for me to want to comfort the omega. He wasn’t just a prince, he was a man, and my alpha nature recognized Chance’s needs went deeper than he was admitting to even himself.

  “What’s wrong with being a prince? I’m sure there are a lot of men who would kill to be royalty. You’re rich and powerful, free to do whatever you want.”

  He shook his head at me. “Does this look like freedom to you?” He gestured to the room, though I suspected it was more than just the room that he was referring to. “I barely have the freedom to pee by myself; I can’t even leave this room without you trailing along behind me.” His eyes roamed down my body, leaving no doubt about what he was seeing. “It’s a good thing you’re so delicious, or I would really feel like I was being punished.”

  He gave me a wink and turned away before I could reply. He grabbed a drop cloth from the corner of the room, now almost completely empty of furniture, and threw it at me. “Here, lay this down.”

  “I thought we were finished painting,” I said, confused, but I did as I was instructed.

  “The walls, sure.”

  I tried my best to look away as he bent down over the paint cans, pouring out a generous helping of sky blue into a tray. Tried, being the key word. My human half recognized that I had a job to do, but my dragon half had a very different agenda. My mouth flooded with saliva at the thought of bending down behind the prince, spreading his cheeks, and diving headlong between them. I could practically taste the slick…

  Chance stood suddenly and whipped his head back to look at me—he narrowed his eyes as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, and the sly grin that he gave in return told me he was on board to play with me.

  I cleared my throat. “What else can I help with?” I was almost worried about what cheeky answer Chance would come out with. He’d waffled back and forth on how he felt about my presence. Sometimes he resented the fact that his fathers believed he needed a babysitter, and Chance would mockingly call me his nanny. But then, sometimes I would swear I could smell his arousal, and he’d make hints for what uses I might have. Like I didn’t have enough of my own ideas.

  “You can hold the ladder,” he said, gesturing.

  “Okay…” I was still confused about what we were painting. Chance placed the ladder in the middle of the drop cloth and climbed up as I held the ladder steady. Damn, looked like I was going to have to stand here staring at his ass all day. Sigh, the sacrifices I had to make for my job…

  “Pass me the paint tray?” I did, and he dipped his roller and then leaned all the way up to begin on the ceiling.

  “You’re painting the ceiling blue?”

  “Mmhmm, and then I’ll add a few clouds.”

  Obviously, he could decorate his room however he liked. He’d already had so many of his choices taken away from him, so I couldn’t blame him for taking this control over his surroundings.

  We worked all day, and the ceiling slowly took on a surprisingly realistic appearance. Chance, true to his word, painted a scattering of puffy white clouds, no two alike. Then he added small details like birds soaring high above, a tiny butterfly in one corner. The whole time, we talked about hopes and dreams, what our childhoods had been like, but never what our futures had in store. Chance clearly wasn’t ready to fully embrace the responsibilities and expectations of being a prince. And if these simple pleasures helped him deal with all the pressure, I couldn’t blame him in the slightest.

  When we were finished, we stood back and admired the finished product. I took in Chance’s more relaxed stance, his satisfied smile. Whatever my prince needed, my prince would have.

  “Huh. I like it,” I told him, nodding. “You’re really talented.”

  “What can I say? I like to paint.”

  “Do you do it often? Maybe you could paint a landscape, or my portrait,” I said with a laugh, but Chance’s face sobered rather than joining in with my merriment.

  “There’s no time for painting. I’m a prince, remember?”

  “Hard to forget. But why don’t you have time to paint?”

  He heaved a dramatic sigh. “Let’s see, where to start…” he began, raising his fingers to count off his points. “Meetings with officials, meetings with advisors, meetings with my fathers and brothers. Don’t even get me started on the social obligations: lunches, dinners, high tea.” He raised his pinky and made his voice all snooty. “Sit up, don’t slouch, don’t speak out of turn. Do this, don’t do that, blah blah blah.”

  I had to admit, when he broke it down like that, it didn’t sound like much fun. And it didn’t leave a whole lot of time for painting. Or for becoming a racecar driver or astronaut, either, for that matter.

  “Okay, I get it,” I told him. “You’re right.” He gave me a small nod as if we’d reached some kind of understanding, some common ground.

  And just like that, Chance let it go. His smile turned teasing. “Want me to paint your room next?” My dragon purred, uncoiling and warming my insides.

  “You can decorate my room in whatever way would make you happy.” I moved without thinking, closing the distance between us. I froze, my hand hovering in the air where I’d been about to brush the plaster dust from Chance’s cheek. It was too easy to forget my place, to forget that he was the Prince of Montipan and that I was his…

  The word was practically on my lips. His daddy. But no, I was his bodyguard, nothing more. I was being paid—quite handsomely, I might add—to keep the prince safe and in line. But if I were being honest… I would gladly do it for free.

  11

  Chance

  I woke up... hard... again.

  That was the worst part of having Devlin as my bodyguard. I thought it would be the lack of freedom, but really... he let me do what I wanted and blended into the background when I needed him to. Really... I liked having him around. I was less—lonely. Which was odd, given I hadn’t realized how alone I felt all this time. On some level, I of course knew that I spent a huge amount of time near but not truly with others, but the impact it had on me? My eyes were just opening up to that.

  But these boners...

  It was one thing to be sporting a semi all day as I was inhaling Devlin’s glorious scent, or imagining his eyes were on me not out of duty, but out of desire, or being my sassy self, encouraging him to act on what we undeniably both felt... but I didn’t even get reprieve when I slept. I would dream of his lips on mine or multiple other places on my body. He’d knot me until I was growing hard again, ready for more. He’d take me over his lap and smack me red and then fuck me with his fingers, causing a delicious blend of pleasure and pain. Sleeping Chance was a dirty boy.

  Some days I woke up needing to wash the sheets, but most days were like today where I awoke to a tented blanket.

  I flipped the covers off of me, intending to ignore it long enough to get in the shower, when I thought for a split second the door separating me from Devlin was cracking open.

  Thought.

  Fantasized.

  Same difference.

  I closed my eyes, my head falling back onto the pillow as the realization he wasn’t coming in hit me.

  He wasn’t about to open the door and see my cock standing there, the tip glistening with pre-cum waiting for him to take a taste.

  “You need any help in here?” He’d rake his eyes over my body, stopping at my arousal. “Why is your hand there?”

  Oops. I stilled my hand that had been wrapped around my erection, giving it a tug. “Bec
ause it feels good.” I kept my hand moving, loving the way his eyes darkened at my brattiness. “It feels so good.”

  “Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” He stalked over.

  “My cock, Daddy.” I bit my lip, looking up at him, my eyes wide open with that innocent look I knew drove him wild.

  “Whose cock?” he asked.

  “Mine,” I sassed.

  “Wrong. Try again.”

  “Yours, Dad—”

  With a grunt, I snapped back from my daydream, my cock spurting cum all over my hand.

  Something fell in the next room, and for a nanosecond I thought I’d been caught. And maybe I had. It wasn’t like he didn’t know I was getting off somehow. No omega my age went weeks without an orgasm.

  I grabbed some tissues and cleaned up enough to get to the shower without making a bigger mess. Bad enough it was another sheets need to be washed day.

  At least this time I’d remember it, unlike my dream fantasies, even if the goodness was all in my stupid imagination.

  I came out of the shower to my phone buzzing.

  Be good. I’m off this weekend. Devlin was gone already. So much for feeling out if he’d heard me. I kind of wished he had.

  No. Not kinda. I did. I wanted him to know how he had a direct line to my dick. Maybe then we could get past this pretend “we don’t want to bone all the time” phase.

  “Which is unfair to him, you entitled jerk,” I chastised myself.

  It was unfair to him. This was his career, and as much as I tried to convince myself it was worth the risk of getting caught, it wasn’t really me who risked a darn thing. My parents—my brothers—they all already thought I was a fuck-up. They were stuck with me regardless.

  Devlin didn’t have that benefit. One wrong glance and my father could kick him out of the palace and off the island—back to the stupid mall job he pretended wasn’t that bad. It had to be. He was so much better than a rent-to-hire cop making sure teens didn’t steal a watch or a video game.

  I’ll be good. I added a winky face and sent it back. I mean, I was me.

  He sent back a rolling-eye emoji.

  “He gets me,” I spoke to myself as I made sure my hair wasn’t awful. I was meeting my brothers and Spencer for brunch and didn’t want to look too disheveled.

  Brunch was brunch. The three of us laughed, ate a ton, and kept our behavior befitting royalty. Unlike the mainland, here, everyone knew us and we had to live up to our positions, as my fathers would put it. We were given the corner booth offering us some semblance of privacy, but it was all a ruse. There was no privacy on the island—at least not in the inhabited parts.

  Flying through the mountains was the only time we were ever free, and even then, we had to be on watch for random hikers who got lost and were accidentally on royal land or a plane that might fly through our airspace, which they rarely did, but still.

  “So tell us, Spencer. How is life without the pressure of—” I leaned in and whispered, “M. A. T. I. N. G. always front and present.”

  “Hey, at least people are interested in you.” He fell back against the seat with all the drama that only Spencer, when he thought he was being funny, could bring.

  “Being set up by people’s parents is hardly the same thing as interest.” Aiden turned the conversation far too serious, far too quickly. Of course, he was the next in line for the throne; other nations would be all about claiming his hand and a bit of the power. I’d been so busy in my own little world, I hadn’t stopped to think about how this whole thing was impacting his life.

  “I saw your latest suitor... he was a hottie.” Brenton jabbed him in the side with his elbow. “I loved how he had such confidence.”

  “Confidence?” I asked, perplexed by the way Brenton said it.

  Aiden turned to me and made a face. “He picked his nose in front of me like it was the most normal thing in the world—I hardly call that confidence.”

  I nearly spit out my drink.

  At least I didn’t have nose pickers at my door.

  But really, no matter who it was that eventually came a knocking... they wouldn’t be Devlin, and as wrong as it was, that thought made me nauseous.

  I shouldn’t be missing him, much less be upset at hypothetical future suitors of mine.

  And yet I was.

  I missed him already and it had been, what? Four hours.

  This weekend was going to suck.

  12

  Devlin

  As I slipped out of my suite and headed toward the circular driveway where a car awaited to take me to the airport, I tapped out a message to Chance, letting him know I’d left for the weekend.

  Sitting in the back of the car alone with my thoughts, Jack, the driver, glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You okay, Devlin?” He and I had chatted a few times, especially late at night when I’d go jogging to let off steam and I’d catch him outside the main gate, puffing on a cigarette. He’d promised to give up that nasty habit and I kept him to it.

  “I’m fine. Just dealing with family stuff. Thanks for asking.” I hated shutting him down but needed to go over how I’d overheard Chance jerking off. Unbeknownst to him, I always left the door slightly ajar between his room and my suite. If he was planning on sneaking out during the night, I needed to know and be at his side.

  But he’d slept later than normal, and I was about to knock on the door when he’d flung off the bedclothes, and in the sliver of light that flowed from his room onto my face, I caught sight of his arousal standing tall and firm. Gazing at his magnificent cock had forced air from my lungs. My dick stiffened, and I’d clamped my teeth on my lower lip to stifle a moan. I’d broken the skin and a metallic taste flooded my mouth.

  Grabbing the doorjamb to keep me upright, I’d leaned my head on the wall as I palmed my length through my pants, and a dull ache built up inside me while heat radiated from my pores. I tried to rein in my emotions and failed. Wanted to look away but my eyes were fixed on Chance. The words ‘Peeping Tom’ echoed in my head.

  But Chance’s hand on his dick, him moaning, and the flush that spread over his bare skin had my own dragon wanting to claim him. I gripped the door, panting as I shoved a hand inside my pants and pawed my own cock. Yes! Yes! Pump! Tug! Pull!

  Chance had his eyes closed but his lips moved, and I swore he was fantasizing some alpha was fucking him. Me! Me! Me! I wanted to be the alpha in his dreams. His dirty, filthy, wicked dreams. Me telling him what to do as I had that night in the bar storeroom. Even better, him over my lap while I spanked him. Chance was a bad boy, and the sound of my palm on his bare damp skin reverberated in my head. Yeah, that was how I wanted it to go down.

  But then, without warning, he came, and gods I wanted his cum on my lips and tongue. Fantasizing about coating my tongue with his slick and cum while pumping my cock had me topple over, dislodging a box of tissues. Fuck no!

  I peeked around the corner. He was frozen while I held my breath, counting the seconds. But he shrugged, and after cleaning himself up, he raced to the shower. And that was when I left.

  While Jack drove along the winding road to the airport, I gazed out the window at the stunning landscape, wishing I could free my dragon and fly over the jagged coastline, watching the ocean splash over the rocks and enjoying the salty spray on my wings and scales. That might get rid of the sexual tension that filled the empty space inside me.

  The lease on my mainland apartment was ending, and I had to be there when the landlord’s agent did a final walkthrough and remove the rest of my stuff. Not that there was much. The place was furnished and most of my things were on the island.

  The island the Montipan Dynasty ruled. The place where Chance lived. And where I’d left… what… not my heart. No. No way. Whoa! Hold on. He’d captured my imagination and I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anyone else. But my heart? That meant I… Nope. Couldn’t be. Just… no. I tucked the thoughts away for another time.

  I contemplated the clouds as
the jet left the island and wondering about the fuck-up that was my life. Later, I studied the apartment where I’d been happy. Perhaps happy was too strong a word. Content with life. It struck me that I considered the old nursery and my adjoining “nanny suite” home now.

  I went through the motions of following the agent around as he checked items off his list and took photos. And when I signed my name with a flourish, the door closed on my old life, the other me. B.C. Before Chance.

  Randall had offered me the sofa at his place, but I opted for a hotel. I needed alone time. My buddies had insisted we meet at our favorite watering hole, the bar where I’d introduced myself to Chance. We could rehash old times, and they would prod me for details of my new life.

  It’d been our favorite place to hang out, hence my use of the storeroom, plus we’d whiled away hours, playing pool, drinking, and Randall and I had picked up omegas. I cringed thinking of how many blowjobs I’d given and received in that back room, and after saying goodbye, not given the guys another thought.

  But I resisted going back and suggested another bar we’d haunted back in the day, or a restaurant. My friends had poo-pooed my ideas, saying now I worked for the royal family, our old stomping ground wasn’t good enough for me.

  I gave in, and when I sauntered into the bar and headed for our favorite table, they greeted me with back slaps and hugs. After downing my first whiskey, the unease in me subsided a little and I caught up with their goings-on.

  I was more vague about what I’d been doing even though they did their best to wear me down. Sharing details about the royal family’s lifestyle and engagements was a no-no. It said so in my contract. So, it was easy to resist their need for salacious gossip such as what the king ate for breakfast and to describe his crown.