Them Back Dimples (Some Girls Do It #4)

by May Sage

  He let her talk, caressing her hair as she did. “They had some insurance, but between the house they’d just mortgaged, my brother’s and their car payments, the funeral, and god knows what, there was nothing left. So, when my boyfriend at the time offered to let me stay at his place, I said yes. I guess I was naïve.”

  That was it. He didn’t know how he’d forgotten, given the fact that he saw everyday at his job that life was a fleeting thing, but right then, he remembered that any second, one of them might be taken away by fate. He was done waiting. He was done hesitating. They wanted each other, and what was more important yet, they needed each other – two solitary souls that the universe had pushed together, so that they may anchor themselves.

  So he stopped overthinking it, cupping her face in his hand, and sealing her mouth with his.

  But as the universe also happened to be a bitch on PMS, that’s when the doorbell rang.

  Cali

  Their postman had always been nice, but today, Cali was tempted to bite his head off. Wren went to open the door, barking, “What?” to the poor guy.

  “I have a letter addressed to Caliana Reynolds. Signed for, sir.”

  She walked forward, waving her hand, “I’m here!”

  Expecting something from Lucy or Cassie, Cali smiled as she opened her delivery, after signing for it.

  Her good mood lasted all of five seconds.

  God.

  Oh god.

  Cali froze, completely shocked, unable to think of anything past one simple nothing: I need to go. I need to go now.

  Holding onto the letter tight, she got up, and ran upstairs, packing her essential on automatic pilot. She didn’t even hear Wren following her, but all of a sudden there was, his hands on her shoulders, keeping her still, forcing her to look into his deep green eyes.

  After a few seconds, her mind cleared up enough for her to start shaking.

  “Cali, I have no idea what's wrong with you right now, but we'll get through this. Just tell me what's wrong, so I can help.”

  Wren; perfect as always. Saving the day was in his genes but for once he couldn't; there was nothing she could do – no one could – except run somewhere far, far away. How stupid she’d been, staying in New York.

  “Bruce...” she started unable to carry-on at first. She opened up the piece of paper held tight in her fist, and showed the short, simple message to Wren. I know where you are. “Bruce found me. You know what he did to me, but you don’t know… He’s part of a gang. A big one. I had no idea at first… Look, he’s going to come for me, and you will get hurt in the process. I need to go. Thank you so much, for everything but…”

  Wren’s lips sealed hers again, until she was done shivering, talking, and unable to even recall her name.

  “You done talking now?” He asked, and she just nodded. For the next few seconds, she was done doing anything. “Good. Then you can sit down, calm down, and explain everything to me. We will get through this Cali. We'll get through anything, you and I. Got it?”

  Wren

  Cali had barely moved, looking numb, and frightened. Wren felt like punching something until it broke. He wanted his sexy, confident, beautiful girl back. The man who’d reduced her to the state deserved to die, and not nicely, which was exactly why he didn't even feel guilty when he made the call.

  It took about two hours, during which he tried to distract Cali, making her watch one of her favorite silly movies, but soon enough, the door bell rang.

  Cali shivered, her head snapping towards the entrance of the house, but Wren just caressed her shoulder, massaging her softly.

  “Don't worry, that's just a friend of mine.”

  Friend was inaccurate, perhaps. Enemy, rival. Brother.

  Wren got up, and went to the door, checking the peephole before opening the door in front of a beefy, self-assured, annoyingly smooth guy.

  “Hey man. Long time no see.”

  “It's only been three months Ralph,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

  “No I meant, it’s been a long time that I haven't seen your sweet, sweet house. God, I hate you for living here, sometimes. You don't normally call me here.”

  The man strolled confidently inside, before coming to a stop when he got to the lounge.

  “Well, hello,” he drawled slowly, and Wren kept his eyes closed, counting to ten. He wouldn’t retaliate. “That explain why you don't want me around; we always had the same taste in ladies.”

  He winked at Cali, `making her blush despite everything happening right now. Wren couldn't even be pissed off; Ralph was ridiculously handsome, in that bad boy sort of way the women seem to dig.

  They were in December, so for once, Ralph was actually wearing a t-shirt, and a leather jacket, too; normally, he preferred to go around half naked, showing off his bulky muscles and the multiple tattoos inked on his torso.

  Dick.

  “Ralph this is Cali. Cali, this is my brother Ralph. And he's going to help us out.”

  Ralph lifted an eyebrow, intrigued. It wasn't like Wren had ever needed him, in the past; usually, it was always the other way around.

  “Cali has a crazy ex-boyfriend stalker.”

  The man's easy demeanor transformed immediately, and they got to see the Ralph other people dealt with; the predator.

  Wren had always known that his brother was a bounty hunter; from the very first time he’d taken a job, because the man had ended up with a wound that had needed patching up, and he’d gone to Wren, rather than the hospital.

  “Why do you do this?” Wren had asked. “You could do anything, man. I don’t know, you could be a trainer, a stunt double, a…”

  “The guy I killed today brought some girls from abroad and used them in a prostitution ring. He raped most of them; some were minors. Someone has to do it, man.”

  Ralph was particularly sensitive to that kind of thing; always had been. They’d never had a heart to heart where he’d shared all his secrets – they weren’t the type – but Wren thought that someone close to him might have been abused, in another life.

  Ralph wore a locket dangling on a slim chain around his neck – always had. It was old fashion and had obviously belonged to a girl. But Wren knew better than to ask questions.

  After hearing his reasons for choosing his path, Wren had shut up. From what he’d gathered throughout the years, his brother had a lot of contacts, and not all of them were in the wrong circles. He might be wrong, but there was a good chance that Ralph actually might be working for the feds, rather than killing people for the highest bidder. He didn’t know; he wouldn’t ask. All he was certain of was that they had a problem, and that Ralph was the man for the job.

  “Tell me everything,” his brother asked somberly.

  Five minutes later, Wren had gone through to ground lines, and Ralph had only punched the wall twice so far. When all was said, he turned to Cali, demanding, “Name, address, Social Security number, if you have it.”

  Wren felt his muscles relax for the first time in over two hours.

  “So, you’ll deal with it?”

  Ralph rolled his yes. “Of course not. I’ll get someone to work a softer approach.”

  Wren frowned, not sure he wanted the softer approach on Bruce.

  “Would it be as efficient? We need him out of our lives, Ralph.”

  His brother wracked his skull, sighing. “If I deal with your problem, I’ll hide the body somewhere no one will ever find it. If I get my guys to, he’ll just be so scared he’ll pee himself, and stay in his rat hole for the rest of his miserable life. Your call.”

  Cali

  It lasted all of five days. Wren and Cali both called in sick. Cassie didn’t have any issue with it, and the hospital said Wren was more than entitled to taking some time off around Christmas, for once. They didn’t leave each other’s side. At night, Wren took her hand and let her to his dark, sparse bedroom; she fell asleep in his arms, which chased the nightmares away.

  He didn’t touch her, not i
n a sexy way, and she wasn’t certain what she thought of it. Half of her loved him a little more for being so sweet, while the other half craved him, and wished he could have distract her.

  But she didn’t say anything.

  One morning, Wren grabbed his phone from his bedside table, and beamed down at her.

  “It’s done.”

  She wasn’t sure what he’d meant at first, but he was quick to clarify his meaning.

  “Ralph says he can give details if it makes you feel safer, but he’s taken care of Bruce. For good.”

  Cali chuckled, wondering if her abuser was still breathing. But she was too wise to ask, and honestly, she didn’t care.

  “So, what are you going to do with the rest of your life, now you’re free, Ms. Reynolds?”

  Cali lifted her frame up from the bed and shifted to sit on top of him.

  “Well,” she murmured, sultry, invoking the most brazen part of her, “I think I’ll start by doing you.”

  He froze in shock, but she didn’t give him the time to recover, her lips dropping to his nipples, that she pulled between her teeth and sucked on, as she started grinding against him. She could feel his already hard length stand up to attention, trying to break free of his Calvin Klein PJ pants.

  “Cali,” he breathed, his voice holding a real warning, “You’re still upset. I don’t want you to do anything out of gratitude because my brother…”

  She reluctantly released his nipple, and he stopped shivering. Shame.

  “If I was grateful, I’d jump your brother,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’ve just been freed from the monster who’s hunted my mind for years. I need to move on, and I want to do this now. With you.”

  She blushed, wondering if her words revealed just how crazy she was about him. He’d probably think she was needy, clingy, and he’d be right, too.

  After an instant, Wren pushed his hips up, grabbed hold of her back, and switched their positions around, topping her.

  How strange. She’d been held down just like that before, and she’d believed she’d never want another man to take control that way; but the bundle of need inside her was set ablaze, and she curved against him, yielding to him without shame.

  “Never talk about jumping Ralph, lady,” he said, pointing a playful, reproachful finger at her. “You’re mine.”

  Then, to prove his point, his head was diving between her legs, and he was rolling her panties down to her knees.

  Fuck.

  She grabbed hold her the sheet, and squeezed them hard, which didn’t seem to help, because the man was too busy licking her like she was made of candy.

  “Aaaarhhh…”

  She grabbed a pillow and brought her to her mouth, biting on it to stifle the embarrassing sounds, but Wren took it, and threw it behind his shoulder.

  “No way. Scream for me.”

  She did. She screamed bloody murder, so hard she was pretty surprised Lucy didn’t barge in, believing someone was torturing her again; in a way, he was. And she didn’t want him to stop, ever.

  Or so she thought. Seconds later, his expert tongue started flicking her clit, and she yelled like a damn banshee, begging him to leave her be.

  Just went she felt her inevitable release near, her toes curling, her eyes rolling in her skull, the man obeyed.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!” she screamed at him.

  Wren smirked, removing his shirt, and lowering his pants.

  Holy…

  “I wanna feel you come all over me, woman. Deal with it.”

  She was too busy staring at his piece of equipment to understand a word of what he was saying. What the…

  “I’m not sure I know what to do with that.”

  He had a dick – she’s seen dicks before, so that wasn’t the problem. The issue was that, as well as being a thick, long, angry veiny dick that should serve as a model for a bunch of dildos, it also happened to be pierced.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, following his gaze, “you’ll handle me just fine.”

  And she did. She yelled bloody murder until her throat hurt, and swore like a sailor as the piece of metal punched her G-Spot at each thrust, but as soon as they were both spent, simultaneously reaching the edge of sanity, she wanted to do it again. And again.

  “You’re going to be the death of me, woman,” he said, rolling on top of her a fourth time, at her demand.

  She smirked smugly and glided her hands around his back, guiding him to her, greedily, hungrily.

  “Maybe later. Now come and shake them back dimples, Doctor Richards.”

  The End

  Join May’s newsletter or stalk her on Facebook to be notified of the next release. Also, stay tuned for some excerpts.

  After Them Back Dimples

  in no particular order

  Ass.U.Me

  (Lola and Ethan)

  Give Me Your Name

  (Jax and Lexi)

  His Dudette

  (Anna and Finn)

  Day Job

  (Devon and Natasha)

  Hard Work

  (Vee and Ralph’s story, with a little free special called Maya’s Daddy. Expect a lot about Piper and her Scrooge in this one.)

  Piece of Me

  (Wayne and Amelia)

  None of them have a fixed release date as yet. The order above is the current release order, but may change. Feel free to stalk me on Facebook or follow my newsletter if you want news!

  More From May:

  I’ve added an exclusive sample of my next release, To Claim a King (Age of Gold 1 – standalone.)

  Xandrie

  The Claiming was finally upon them and the palace was abuzz with energy. Xandrie allowed Demelza’s maidservant to dress her hair, while she watched women stream across the drawbridge and into the arena, their cutlasses, broadswords, rapiers, and flail maces borne proudly on their shoulders. It was going to be a blood bath. She could only pray her dear friend was ready to slice and dice her way through the competition.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Demelza stuck her head into the room. “Got a sec?”

  Xandrie waved her in. She couldn’t move, for fear of her hair being ripped from her head.

  “Close your eyes,” said Demelza.

  Xandrie did as she was bid. She heard the door squeak on its hinges and the swish of Demelza’s arms against her steel breastplate, but there was another, gentler sound, a padding of giant paws. She felt her adrenalin tick up; she hardly dared hope.

  “Open,” said Demelza.

  Fallon, her darling tiger cub, pressed his head into her lap, purring up a storm.

  Xandrie was speechless.

  Demelza was all smiles. “I figured he needed you as much as you need him, but I’m telling you, think twice before loading a tiger onto your back. The guy has gained some serious muscle.”

  Xandrie ran her hands over Fallon’s massive shoulders, marvelling at how much he’d grown. He’s always be her baby, but now he was definitely her man. It was possibly the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her. She hoped her friend could read her heart through her eyes and know how deep the gratitude went.

  “See you down there.” Demelza pecked her on the cheek and marched out of her room. The woman was a saint.

  Xandrie mounted the steps of the tribune, Fallon at her side. She could hear the whispers of the crowd as they passed. She took her place and Fallon lay at her feet. Mess with me now, fuckers. It was a glorious feeling, to be in charge of her space and the people around her. They might wish her ill, but not one of them would raise a hand to her.

  She peered over the railing, into the prep pit and saw Demelza and Vincent readying for the fight. Their swords clashed so hard sparks flew. The woman was a saint and a warrior. She deserved to win Rhey’s hand, even though she still claimed she had no interest in a marriage to the King.

  The trumpets sounded, the crowd roared, and Rhey made his grand entrance. He looked like thunder. Demelza had told
her how much he hated The Claiming, but she had little pity for him. He was King; he could do as he liked, surely. She had no time for politicking and court machinations. Probably why she’d never be queen. She shook her head. That way lay madness. He might be a hottie, but he was well out of her reach.

  King Vasili let the ceremonial axe fall and The Claiming began. Xandrie had never seen such violence. Sure, there were battles in the Northern Var and she’d been witness to amputations, lethal gashes, and beheadings, but the sheer, bloody rage these women brought to the arena was a sight to behold. Some bouts lasted many long, heart-clenching minutes, but most were over in a couple of swipes of a well-trained sword.

  Demelza was right: The Claiming was skewed in favor of the nobility. It was they who had the weapons, the trainers, and the time to hone their craft to a point. The women of the lower class limped, crawled, and hobbled out of the ring, their dreams of Queendom in tatters.

  Demelza comported herself with such skill and dignity, Xandrie got choked up. Her friend didn’t go for the easy victory; she fought with passion and precision, but invited her opponents to strut their stuff. She’d explained her strategy to Xandrie. She was going to fight to maintain her honor and send a signal that she was not to be fucked with, but she saw no need to humiliate anyone who’d had the guts to appear before the highest in the land and fight. Their families were in the stands; these women would have to go home and tell tales of battling for the King’s hand; she wanted them to do so with pride. No one who fought her left the ring demoralized or with more than a scratch. She fought until they relented, then a bowed as they exited. No surprise, then, that she was the crowd’s favorite.

  Demelza had won every bout she’d fought and come out top of her ranking. She was paired against a statuesque blonde, who the crier identified as Saskia Xaxan. Xandrie didn’t need a translator to tell her Saskia was of noble birth. When the woman entered the ring, Xandrie’s dragon roared in her chest. It was the first time, since blood had been spilled on the sawdust-strewn floor, that she feared for her friend.