Page 112 of Lethal King

With my thumb. All I had to do was press down on her clit; lead it in circles; suck it up with my lips, then clean it off with my tongue.

She was so wet I nearly drowned.

My stomach rumbles as I search through the overflowing fridge. Out in the living room, I hear a few of my men talking. It sounds like they’ve brought one of the guard dogs inside—presumably to keep it out of the hot sun. Usually, I’d go say hello; get a few good pets in. But not today.

Lifting my shirt, I wipe some of Rozalia’s leftover juice from my glistening lips. No one needs to know what we’ve done. No one can even be allowed to guess. This is between her and me, and no one else.

“This will do for me,” I grumble, spotting a big juicy rotisserie chicken in the back of the fridge. “Now, what would a submissive little kitten crave after an encounter like that?”

If it were any other woman tied up in my room, I might search for some kind of soup or salad. But despite Rozalia’s slender frame, I can’t picture her daintily slurping up some meatless meal.

And the last thing I want is for that pretty little body to waste away into nothing. She needs to be able to fight back as I take her again, and again, and again…

This rotisserie chicken might just work for the both of us.

“Got anything in there an old man might be able to nibble on?”

Maksim’s voice carries over the fridge door.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any porridge left,” I play along. Lifting myself up, I drag my meal out and slam the door shut.

“Just as well. Probably wouldn’t hurt to lay off the calories,” Maksim chuckles, slapping a wide hand against his stomach.

I’ve seen him shirtless before, and I know how modest he’s being. Not even my father is as ripped as my Russian uncle. The salt and pepper wolf is still a beast to be reckoned with. If anything, he needs more fuel to satiate his tireless work ethic.

But to Maksim, he’s just an older version of his younger self. And from what I heard, his younger self was nearly invincible.

“If you do that, you’re going to end up looking like Drago,” I point out. “He was practically a corpse.”

“Well, that’s a good deterrent,” Maksim acknowledges. “But the bastard can still fight like hell.”

He’s not wrong.

“What’s the casualty count up to?” I remember to ask, still pissed off about how we let those two escape.

Stuffing the chicken into the microwave, I put the heat on high and lean against the counter. My erection is still as strong as ever, but I figure some bad news will help calm it down.

“Two more men died at the hospital,” Maksim grunts. “For a total of fourteen dead.”

“And how the fuck did a half-dead corpse manage to kill fourteen of our men?”

I’m angry about the losses on our side, but not devastated. I’ve lost plenty of men before. And those who died knew what they were signing up for. It’s just a shame they had to go out like that.

“He had help,” Maksim reminds me. “Tytus might be one of the most vicious fighters I’ve ever gone against.”

That’s not a lie either.

“And he wasn’t just fighting for his life,” I recall, shaking my head. “He was fighting for his sister’s safety.”

“Well, he failed at that, at least,” Maksim nods.

“But only because you and I were there,” I point out, a sudden ache pounding through my skull. I know a stress headache when it’s coming. “Fuck, how are we going to run an empire when we can’t trust anyone but ourselves?”

“It’s not easy,” Maksim is quick to teach. “You have to pick and choose who to trust. Carefully.”

“That sounds like a lengthy-ass process,” I grumble.

“You can’t rush it,” Maksim agrees.