“But Nolan,” she says, her voice so whiny that I almost want to throw her out the window, “you promised!”

I didn’t fucking promise. I never, ever make promises to these girls. It’s always one night and they’re done, and I never say there will be more. And yet so many of them wake up from an evening of pure fucking pleasure and crave more so badly that they try to pretend like I offered them more.

I never fall for this shit.

I sigh and toss over her shirt. “Get dressed,” I say.

She pouts at me. Great lips, decent tits, but nothing I haven’t had before. “Are you serious?”

“Serious,” I say. “It was fun. But you knew what you were getting into.”

I can see the expression on her face change in an instant, and I know what’s coming next.

“You asshole,” she says, tossing the covers aside.

I sigh. It always goes like this. At first they try and trick me into giving them more, as if I’m some insipid moron. Sometimes they even try to beg. But always, every single time, they get pissed.

I don’t know how many times I’ve been through this little charade. They call me Prince Player because of all the different women I’ve slept with over the years. I have it down to a fucking science, and I never let a woman leave here without being fully satisfied.

But they always leave. That’s the rule, and I’m up front with them every single time. I don’t even know this one’s name, I think it’s like Cindy or something. But last night, before I brought her home, I said the same thing I always say: it’s just for tonight, babe, and then you’re gone.

They always agree at the time. And they always want more.

She climbs out of bed and doesn’t even bother to hide her body. I should get fucking hard, since she is pretty hot, but my cock doesn’t even stir. I already tasted what she had to offer, and while she was pretty decent, I don’t need another bite.

She disappears into the bathroom and I head back into the living room. My apartment is in the middle of Maldin, the biggest city in Polovia. We’re not a big country, but we’re pretty fucking rich. Life is decent in Polovia, especially when you’re the prince.

I’m not just some spoiled rich dickhead, despite what many people in this country may think. I’ve used my money to invest in my people. I run several charities that help the less fortunate, though I do them all anonymously. It’s easier that way. I don’t need the media attention. I prefer to live my life away from the spotlight, tasting as many women as I want, doing whatever I feel like.

But lately, things have been… different. It’s hard to say. Normally, I’d try and hustle this girl out, but I don’t even have the energy for that right now. I sit down on my couch and flip on the news. It’ll probably piss her off even more that I’m not even paying any attention to her, but that’s fine with me.

I’ve been searching for something lately, something to give me purpose. I haven’t found it yet. I thought the charities would help, and they have, but they’re not enough. I need more. At first, I tried to drown that feeling in pussy, but even that can’t work forever.

I sit back and watch as the news scrolls past. It’s the same old shit about the economy, entitlement programs, that sort of garbage. People are general pretty awful to each other when money’s involved. Sometimes I feel like people are willing to let a human die if it means they can pay a little less in taxes, which is depressing as fuck. When I’m king, I want to make sure people take care of each other. That’s going to be my first priority.

“And now to some royal news,” the anchorwoman says. “Right now, these are unsubstantiated rumors. However, our sources indicate that King Jackson Leitner will name his heir.”

This catches my attention. While I am the king’s only son, and therefore I should be the obvious choice for crown prince, he hasn’t actually named me his successor yet. Father and I don’t always see eye-to-eye, to put it mildly. Frankly, he thinks I don’t have what it takes to be king, and I think he’s an old, out of touch asshole. We have our differences, but I’ve always assumed that he’ll choose me in the end.

But I haven’t heard anything about him naming his successor. Which is pretty bad fucking news.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re really going to pass up on all this?” She gestures at herself. “I’ll suck your dick again if you want.”

I turn around and Cindy is standing there, her tits still out, her jeans unbuttoned. “Quiet,” I grunt at her and turn back to the TV.

“It seems as though Julian Eder, the eldest of the Leitner cousins, is the front runner to become the crown prince. This is shocking news, since the country has assumed that Prince Nolan would be official successor. If he is passed up for the crown, this will be a shocking new development. We will be following this story closely.”

I stare at the television, in total fucking shock. I can’t believe what I just heard. Fucking Julian as the crown prince? He’s a snobbish, stuck up piece of shit. He’d be an awful king.

And exactly the kind of guy my idiot father would choose. He’s married to a noblewoman, has a bunch of fucking kids, and is about as traditional as it gets. He’d be awful for this country, so of course my father would choose him.

Still, this would go against hundreds of years of precedent. I don’t even know what to say.

“Wow. That blows.”

I turn around and stare. I forgot she was fucking here. “Get the fuck out of here,” I say to her. “Right now.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’re not even going to be king.”

I stand up. “If you don’t leave now, I’ll throw your half naked ass out onto the street. Understand?”

She makes a face. “Asshole,” she says, but she goes into the bedroom and gets dressed. I make sure she gets the fuck out before I lock the door behind her.

Fucking Julian. I grew up with that snotty little shit. He’s a sniveling little politician, a weak piece of shit. He doesn’t know the first thing about being a strong and fair King. I’m so furious, I can barely fucking breathe.

I’ve been training my whole life for becoming the King. Everything I’ve done since I was a child was with the kingship in mind. I’ve studied Polovian laws, read tracts on being a fair and decent ruler, and studied all the royal histories. I’ve been trained and groomed for this.

So what if I like to fuck women and live to the fullest? My father may not approve, but I’m still his son. And I will be King.

I quickly head into my bedroom, pack a bag, and leave for the castle. I need to get to the center of power, and quick, before this shit gets beyond me.