Page 38 of Beastly Armory

Derichs shrugs and turns on his side to get back into his napping position.

A large palm slides onto my thigh as Max grips my two folded hands in his large one. We ride in silence for a few moments, and I think he’s going to turn the radio back on, but he says in a low voice, “If shit goes down, you get out.”

My mouth opens, scrambling to find an argument against him. I can take care of myself. I know these men better than him, since he’s been out of the game. Before I can use my voice, he asks, “Do you hear me, Livia?” He squeezes my hands, the ridges of his dry palms scratching my skin. My heart flutters.

Bobbing my head in a small nod, I respond, “Yeah, I hear you.” My tongue finds its way to my cheek as I refrain from snipping.

“I want you out of there if anything goes wrong. I mean it.” The commanding nature of his voice makes my skin tingle all over. He’s protective. Always has been. And I’ll let him protect me.

For now.

Turning my face to look out the side window, we continue a quiet ride for quite some time until Max turns on the radio again, then slips his hand back under mine. It’s warm and cozy. His palms are rough from years of fighting, and I try to focus on that sensation. If I let myself think about surviving without Max… I wouldn’t like it. Now that he’s back in Gnarled Pine Hollow, things are complicated. If he left, if he werekilled, I’m not sure I could live with the guilt. That’s what it is—guilt. I’d have to look at poor Arianna and tell her that her brother died. That would be horrible.

It's nothing more. Nothing I want to entertain anyway.

Breaking my hands free of his hold, I slide one into my jeans pocket to rub a finger over the little metal object quickly three times and murmur, “One, two, three.”

“What’s that?” Max lowers the volume of the radio with an accusatory look at his empty palm.

“Oh, nothing.”

Derichs’s cute face pops in between the seats again, and he yawns before stretching as much as his large body will allow in such a tiny space. “Is it time to stop for food yet?”

As if it weighs a hundred pounds, Max pulls his arm back from my lap and places it on the steering wheel. “Yeah, man, we’ll pull over up here. I gotta fill up, too.”

In a few miles, he takes the exit, but only tall grass fields greet us on either side of the ramp. Traveling a few miles off the highway, he finds an unnamed gas station with a gray cedar general store next door.

“Ugh, do they even have anything edible in there?” Derichs watches as we pull up to one of only two rusted gas pumps.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. We’re running on empty.”

Clamoring out of the car, my legs ache, needing to be stretched as Derichs stumbles out and gains his balance before jogging lightly toward the store. I follow to look fora restroom. There’re two on the outside of the building. When I go to the women’s room, it’s locked with a sign that says to ask for the key from the cashier. Once the old man behind the counter hands me the oversized plastic keychain, I eye it suspiciously. It’s grimy, the yellow covered in dark brown stains. I’ll wash my hands twice.

Before heading back out, my eye catches Derichs struggling with a shopping basket, attempting to hold it with one arm awkwardly. With a little sigh, I sidle up to him and grab the basket out of his arm. He lets me, with a small smile of appreciation. Helping him out, we venture down each aisle, and I load it up with things he points out.

“And Twinkies.”

Tossing the package in, I ask, “Do you have a girlfriend, Derichs?”

“Yeah, why?” Bending toward the Oreos, he picks up a bag and throws it in. When he stands, some of his brown curls have fallen back across his forehead, which he pushes back with his good arm.

“Does she know you eat shit like this?” I ask, waving a palm at the junk in my arms.

With a devilish smirk, he raises his dark brown eyebrows. “Only when she’s not around.”

I shrug and place his basket on the checkout counter, then head to the restrooms. Once in the bathroom stall, a quick movement catches in my periphery before I squat on the toilet. There’s a hole in the wall opening to the men’s room on the other side. The light coming through is blocked, as if someone just covered it. I hear a zipperbeing lowered and some shuffling before a girthy, long, and perfect cock comes through the hole.

Max. I spent enough time getting to know his dick during Strauss’s meeting that I’d know it anywhere. He must wiggle his hips because it jumps up and down a little, as if enticing me to touch it. The smirk on my face drops when I bite my lip, my pulse pounding heavy in my chest, then down lower. He must think I won’t take him up on the offer, but staring at it makes me hungry and definitely wet between my thighs. Maybe Vlad’s conditioning worked on me.

With the anonymity of the wall between us, I could get off on it and never have to mention it again. It would be like it wasn’t even Max. My clit pulses, thinking about him offering his cock to me as a personal dildo. At least it’s probably warm and flush with life instead of the cold, hard plastic thing sitting in my bag.

I don’t know what Max has stuck it into, but I’d imagine his cock has been on several world tours. He’s not wearing a condom. It jerks at me again, like the anticipation and my hesitation is only making it more aroused, a tiny dribble of liquid escaping the tip. My chest rises rapidly as my breathing escalates.

Smooth, straight, rounded tip… Thick.

It’s just a dick. A toy…

I walk over to the wall and bend my head over to gather the oozing tip with a curl of my tongue.

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