Page 1 of Doctor Bossy

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BECCA

“Oh yeah, baby,” a female moan drifted out from my fiancé’s room, shocking me still. “Just like that.”

In retrospect, I should have seen it coming.

James had been acting weird for weeks—consistently shifty, getting texts at weird hours, and being a little cagey about his phone. At first, I ignored it, chalking my feelings up to my occasional paranoia, especially since James had never given me reason before to suspect anything but the best of him. In fact, my fiancé was almost creepily perfect: smart, funny, and so dedicated and loving toward me. He didn’t seem to care that I came from nothing and had not a single dollar to my name. He treated me well regardless, and yeah, sometimes he could be a bit clueless about just how much privilege he had in life, but there was nothing to suggest that he was like the rest of the rich assholes I came across.

It was one of the reasons why I had fallen in love with him and agreed to marry him despite only dating for a few years.

And it was also the reason why I denied the sounds at first. They were clearly moans—and slaps of skin and other assorted sex sounds—but I didn’t want to believe it, shaking my head against the obvious truth for as long as possible.

No, I thought.It can’t be. Either this was a nightmare, or I had to be imagining things. That can’t be James in there with another woman.

“You want more, baby?” came the unmistakable voice of my fiancé, deep in the throes of arousal. “I can give you more.”

My heart squeezed like there was a fist around it, tightening and tightening until I could barely breathe. For a second, my vision shifted, and the hallway seemed to be closing in on me as the feminine moan followed by laughter came through the cracked-open bedroom door.

They hadn’t even bothered to close the door the whole way.

James hadn’t known I would be coming today. He’d been away for a long trip and told me that he wanted to rest up before meeting me tomorrow. Of course, me being the stupidly naïve fiancée I was, I wanted to come here and help him “rest,” so to speak. I had it all planned out, from making him a nice home-cooked meal to running a bath and even rubbing his feet while he sipped on some wine and told me all about his time in France. All he needed to do was relax.

And then maybe I could give him a little action later to soothe his tension.

Looks like someone already beat me to it,I thought bitterly, as pain pierced through my chest.

I stepped closer to the door because I was a masochist. I wanted to see what was going on, confirm it, and know for certain that I wasn’t just imagining it.

I peeked in through the door, and there it was, in merciless detail—James was stark naked in his bed, on top of a busty blonde I didn’t recognize. I saw his ass cheeks squeeze as he thrust into her, his head thrown back and eyes shut. The girl was squealing and mewling out her pleasure, begging for more, clearly about to orgasm.

Oh God, I just might throw up if she does.

I backed up from the sight, slapping my hand over my mouth, so I didn’t scream. I shut my eyes too, but it was too late. The image was burned in my brain like a brand, and it continued to taunt me and stab daggers into my heart.

And then, with the pain came anger.

In fact, anger was too mild a word for it.

Rage like I hadn’t felt in a very long time spread from my head to my toes until it almost felt like my skin was vibrating. It was the rage that spurred me into action, finally forcing me forward to throw open the bedroom door and yell, “What the actual fuck, James?”

The blonde squealed, and James swore as he awkwardly backed away from her, facing me and leaving her body naked. The woman dove for the covers as James’ eyes widened, a combination of shock and horror in his eyes.

“Becca,” he said. “I…I thought I was supposed to meet you tomorrow.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s the first thing you’re going to say to me after I just caught you fucking another girl?”

“Who is this, James?” The blonde asked, staring at me dazedly.

James’ eyes were placating as he ignored his partner’s question, addressing me instead. “This isn’t…this….”

“Are you going to tell me that it isn’t what it looks like?” My anger spiked. “Because if you’re going to give me a cliché ass line like that, then you must think I’m more stupid than I thought.”

“No need for insults,” James said.

“You’re cheating on me, James. I would say there’s every need.”

“Becca…come on, let’s just go out and talk about this.”

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