“They’re as strong as a milkman’s asshole.” I looked up at the deep voice, finding Sin Wilder grinning at me like a deranged motherfucker – and I guessed that was what he was, so it fit the bill. His bulky muscles were filling out his jumpsuit and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal endless ink on his dark arms. “How’d you get in here before my pack?” I growled. “And what makes you think a milkman has a strong asshole?” Not sure why I wanted to know the answer to that second question, but call me Curious Clive.
