Page 45 of Wicked Dix

She looks over her shoulder and frowns. “Not likely.”

I sigh and lean against the doorframe casually as I look down at her plaid pajama bottoms. “Is he still holding out?”

She nods unhappily.

I tsk. “I have no idea what’s the matter with him. I remember a time when your bed was solely for the purpose of fucking and nothing more.”

Her frown grows deeper. “The only fucking it’s seen is when I’m in it alone.”

“Like last week?”

She actually blushes. “Yes.”

“Good. From now on, when you slip in under the covers, I want you to think of me.”

“Why?” Her breathing begins to climb.

“Because you know I’m the only person who can make you come, and come hard,” I cockily reply. “It doesn’t seem your fiancé is taking his role too seriously. Shame that.”

She pales as I plant the seed of doubt. Plant the seed and watch it grow. “He’s just tired from work,” she defends, unable to accept that her life with Dylan is anything but perfect.

I shrug. “So was I, but I still recall delivering where it counted.”

She stews over my words and glumly confesses, “You’re right.”

This is really too easy.

By rocking an already unstable boat, I hope that Juliet will doubt Dylan’s feelings for her more than she already does. Deep down, she knows he wants someone other than her, and in the past, she’s used sex as her card to win him over. But now that that isn’t working, I want her to doubt the entire foundation their “relationship” is built on. Doubt it so much that she’ll believe the grass is greener on the other side. And that other side is me. I’m going to take away everything that matters to her, and I plan on starting with her relationship.

My aim is not to have her end things with him, seeing as she’s the only person keeping Dylan away from Madison. I just want her to keep him on a tighter leash. He’ll partake in the façade because he’s using her as a front for what, forwhom, he really wants. If he can’t have Madison, then Juliet will do. I want her to be aware of that fact every time she looks at him. I want her to know she’s always going to be second best.

“I must go. Remember; think of me whenever your pussy is involved.” Another psychological seed is planted. She can’t come unless she thinks of me. Have fun fucking your fiancé now.

Leaning in close, she purrs, “I sometimesdo.”

Great, I’m already halfway there.

I smirk, also leaning in so we’re inches apart. “Sometimes isn’t going to cut it. Make it all the time.”

“Okay, Dr. Mathews.” Her breaths are small and winded.

“Excellent. Good day, Ms. Harte.” I push off the doorframe.

“Dr. Mathews?”

“Yes.”

She pulls at the hem of her baggy tee. “Do you really think Dylan isn’t taking us seriously?”

I squash down my smile. “How do you define fiancé?”

She mulls over my question before replying, “Someone who loves, cares, and worships his fiancée.”

“And is that how Dylan makes you feel?”

She frowns but doesn’t reply.

Putting forward my last play for the day, I pin her with an overconfident stare. “I know if I were your fiancé, you wouldn’t be out here talking to another man, unsatisfied, and wearing those hideous pajamas. If I were your fiancé, you’d be too busy sucking my dick to talk to another man, totally satisfied, and not wearing anything at all.”

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