by Monica James
Wicked Dix
Monica James
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
ACT I
1. Balls
2. Heartburn
3. Eat Me
4. The Truth, and Nothing but the Truth
5. So Help Me God
6. For the Win
7. Walk Away
8. Actions of the Heart
9. Ravenous
10. Message on a Coaster
11. Unseen Bruising
12. I’m Yours
13. Everything I Do, I Do for You
14. Clueless
15. Double Lie
16. True Identity
ACT II
17. All Great Achievements Require Time
18. Breathe
19. The New Me
20. Under Your Spell
21. Ti Amo
22. Words I Don’t Understand
23. Game Over
ACT III
24. Thump, Thump…Thump
25. We’ll Always Have Paris
26. Tainted Love
ACT IV
27. Reason to Stay
28. Don’t Speak
29. Yin Yang
30. All that Glitters Is Not Gold
31. The Last Goodbye
32. Whatever Your Journey
ACT V
33. Detox From Life
34. It’s Never Too Late for Love
35. Ride to Freedom
36. Found Yourself in Her
37. The Best Kind of Stupid
Epilogue
Letter from Monica
New Releases Sign-Up
Dirty Dix
Also By Monica James
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Mum and Dad . . . I am who I am thanks to you. I love you.
Prologue
Now ...
“How could you?” gasps the girl, whose heart I’ve just shattered into smithereens.
“I can explain.” But I can’t. There is no explanation worthy enough to excuse why I’m here.
“Well?” The single, slow-falling tear which traces a path down her porcelain cheek highlights what a true bastard I really am.
“I-I…” Fuck! What am I even trying to say? Where do I start? When was the exact moment this all turned to shit?
“Just like I thought.” She spins on her heel and scampers toward the door.
“Madison, wait! Please hear me out.”
“Why, Dixon? To hear more of your lies!”
“Maddy, please,” I plead, reaching out and latching onto her arm like the desperate man that I am.
“No!” she shrieks, recoiling, my touch appearing to repulse her.
“Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
My feeble voice betrays my fear. But I don’t care. The only good, decent thing in my life is about to walk out that door, and I wouldn’t blame her if she never came back. I’ll grovel, beg at her feet if I need to, but a small part of me knows it was bound to come to this.
“Don’t do what?” she cries, her fingers unsteady as she brushes back her long hair.
I deserve this.
I’m a man-whore.
And I’m a coward.
I don’t deserve this beautiful angelo’s love. I never did. But I wanted it so badly I thought consequences be damned. But now, now I’ve gone and fucked it all up.
“I’m sorry. It’s not what you think.” But it is.
I was meeting up in this fleabag motel to conspire with her sister—a sister who truly represents sin.
“I hope it’s not what I think, because if it is, then I don’t know who you are.”
Words have never hurt more than those just spoken.
“I’m the same man I was this morning. I’m the same man who loves you more than life itself. That hasn’t changed. That’ll never change,” I press, stepping forward, needing to touch her. But she steps away, nothing but disgust in her eyes.
“Just tell me one thing…what are you doing here?”
I could lie. I mean, that’s all I’ve been doing. But when you can no longer distinguish between the lies you’ve told and the truth, it’s time to come clean.
My silence is cementing my guilt.
“Tell me this isn’t what I think it is, and I’ll forget I ever saw you here.”
Everything in this moment is heightened—the clock on the discolored wall sounds in time with my lashing heart, my heavy breathing is in sync with the wild wind thrashing about outside, but most of all the torrent of tears streaming down Madison’s cheeks are in concert with my drowning soul.
“Dixon?” Her lower lip trembles as she waits for me to remedy this situation.
Every inch of my body is telling me to lie, but I can’t. I do the only decent thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.
I say nothing at all.
“I thought so,” she whispers brokenly after a minute of silence.
Her beautiful green eyes reveal nothing but betrayal as she yanks open the door. “Goodbye, Dr. Mathews. Thank you for being the biggest regret of my life,” she sobs, her voice stuck in her throat.
I want to say so many things, but I don’t. I simply stand numbly and watch the best thing in my life walk out on me. And for once, I do the right thing.
I let her go.
ACT I
Then…
1
Balls
DIXON
“And then he said…sorry, I need a minute,” snuffles Goldilocks as she unfurls an unsteady hand.
“Take all the time you need, Ms. Kibard.” I’ll just continue on with my morbid doodle of a teddy bear getting his stuffing blown out.
When she finally regains her composure, she continues. “And then he said…if I bought one more teddy bear, he was going to leave me.” She clutches onto her eyeless, scraggly, diseased-looking teddy bear like it’s Lord Jesus himself. “Can you believe that?”
You bet your crazy ass I can. But I calmly nod, appearing stone-faced. This is my job, after all.
“I’m not here to pass judgment, Ms. Kibard. Let’s talk about why you have a…fascination with teddy bears.”
Yes, this is as ridiculous as it sounds, but her crazy makes me forget the madness of my own.
It’s been ten days. Ten whole days during which I’ve lied to the most innocent, most honorable person I’ve ever met. It’s been ten days that I’ve hated myself more than I thought I possibly could.
I’m not a good person, I know that. Before meeting Madison Roberts, I was questioning my humanity, questioning if I actually ever had any morals, ethics, or a soul. But for a second, a split second, she made me feel as if maybe there was hope for me. As if maybe I could be a good man.
But that hope got shot to hell when the sins of my past blackmailed me into being her little lapdog. And now, my hands are tied. Tied by Juliet Harte—the Antichrist in heels.
This is my karma for succumbing to her sinful ways. But contracting Ebola while covered in smallpox and listening to Celine Dion on repeat would be preferable, and less painful, than what Juliet proposes I do. My cock curls in on itself and goes into retreat when thinking about touching that harlot ever again.
“Dr. Mathews, do you agree?”
Focusing on the train wreck in front of me, I try and backtrack to the last thing I remember her saying.
“Blah, blah, bear. Blah, blah, teddy. Blah, blah, daddy.”
Pushing my miserable woes aside, I steeple my fingers under my chin. “I’d like to talk about your bear.” I drop my gaze to the diabolic fluff ball, hoping this works because I have not listened to a word she’s said. “Who gave you that little…” roa
d kill, I internally offer, but instead settle for, “that little guy?”
We human beings, we are such expressive creatures, and the smallest change in facial expressions usually reveals what’s lurking beneath the surface. And now is no exception.
As Goldie’s jaw begins to tremble, I know what her answer will be. “My father.” She draws the dirty teddy into her chest, hugging it tight.
How’d I know her answer was going to be just that? Well, I know because I am a man. We men, we are right royal bastards. If we don’t fuck our daughters up, then someone else’s son will do it for us.
The thought has my stomach churning because if what Juliet says is true and she is carrying my child, then that child is doomed to grow up to be a conniving bastard, or a psychotic, manipulative, batshit crazy bitch.
The fact Juliet has slept with half of Manhattan and their dog makes me feel a touch better that this poor child might not be mine. But if it is…
I shudder.
I can’t deal with this. I need to focus on one drama at a time. And Goldie weeping about how her father used this bear as his scapegoat to touch her inappropriately is not one of them.
Tonight, I’m having dinner with Sebastian and Rachel at their lavish home in Westchester County. I liked them both instantly when we first met ten days ago, and under normal circumstances, I would be thrilled to spend an evening with Madison’s parents. But there is nothing normal about tonight’s proceedings.
The heavy cell in my pocket taunts me, reminding me that some twenty minutes ago I received a text message from the bitchface herself. A text which shattered all hope that maybe she was joking.
It said, I’ve got an itch only you can scratch. It’s a line she’s used before.
But this time, I replied with, There’s a cream you can get for that.
I thought suck on that, you smug, presumptuous she-devil, but she made known just who was in charge, who was running this freak show when she countered a second later.
The only cream I want is the one that comes from your cock.
Romance truly is dead. Juliet Harte killed it the day she opened her venomous mouth and I happily stuck my dick into it.
I remove my glasses and massage the bridge of my nose with two fingers. How the fuck am I going to do this? I’ll have the woman I worship on one side of me, while the woman I despise will be on the other side, no doubt trying to give me a discreet hand job under the table.
I’m fucked. And not in a good way.
“It’s okay, Tracey. You know it’ll feel good.”
Steadily lifting my head, I’m baffled as to why it sounds like Regan MacNeil from The Exorcist, post possession, has just crawled into my office. What I’m confronted with just highlights the kind of week I’ve had.
“Ms. Kibard?” I ask, pulling back in utter confusion when I’m now faced with the eyeless bear instead of Goldie.
The bear dances in front of Goldie’s face, each word enunciated with an improper thrust. “Tracey isn’t here. You’re talking to Johnny now. Do you want to fuck her pussy?”
“Excuse me?” I question the…bear in horror, but also, part humor.
“You heard me. She likes it hard.” The bear gyrates robustly, just to emphasize his point in case I missed the disturbing memo.
I run a hand down my face.
As Johnny the bear details Tracey’s abusive childhood, I sink further and further into my seat. But I listen and pretend to care because I know this will be the only normalcy to my day.
“You can touch her. She wants it.” It appears this bear can not only talk, but he’s also a pimp.
Oh dear God.
I throw my head back in defeat.
What have I done to deserve this? However, it’s not a what, but rather a who. And that who, or should I say whore, totally outplayed a player. She beat me at my own game. A game which I foolishly believed I had mastered.
But now I realize, this entire time, I was the one getting played. I played straight into her hands. And now that my balls are in her court, I’m afraid what she’ll do to them once it’s her turn to serve.
2
Heartburn
DIXON
Walking through the hallway of Madison’s apartment block usually gives me the warm fuzzies.
But tonight, it’s giving me heartburn. I pull at the collar of my white shirt. It feels like hands squeezing off my air supply the closer I get to Maddy’s front door.
How am I meant to pull this off? Lying to Maddy’s face is one thing, but lying in front of her parents, with the source of the lie sitting mere inches from me, is something else. My walls are already crumbling, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep this up.
Pulling it together, I take a deep breath before knocking on her front door. She opens it a second later and when she does, I feel like an even bigger asshole.
“Dixon,” she gushes, curling a soft lock of hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flush a soft pink, and she nervously nibbles on her tempting lower lip.
If anything has ever looked this sweet, then I don’t remember seeing it.
I was spellbound by Madison Roberts the moment I saw her, and I’m not embarrassed to confess I have been ever since. I came to her rescue after some Neanderthal was manhandling her. I don’t know why I felt the need to intervene, but I’m glad that I did.
After I made some god-awful decisions, i.e. screwing Juliet on more than one occasion, I came to my senses and knew that this amazing, beautiful woman was the only woman I wanted. Even when I was “seeing” Juliet, Madison was always on my mind. I just wish I had listened to common sense sooner.
I was happy with friendship, if that was all she could offer, but once I got to know the real her, I knew I needed her more than I needed air to breathe. I’m a lucky son of a bitch that she felt the same way.
Her strengths and weaknesses inspire me to become a better man.
“Madison.” As she continues gnawing on her lip, I step forward and slip my hand around her slender waist. “You look incredible.”
She blushes further, a shade akin to the color of her summer dress. “Thank you.”
“No, thank…” I lean forward and nuzzle her cheek “…you,” I conclude in her ear. A small whimper catches in her throat and the sound has my alpha dog beating his chest in pride. I love that after everything she’s been through, she trusts me enough to allow this closeness between us.
As I look over her shoulder and see her overnight bag sitting innocently by the door, I can’t help but frown. The sight would usually have me happier than a fat kid eating cake, but due to obvious circumstances, I now feel undeserving. And Maddy can sense my shift immediately.
“I just thought I could stay over because your house is closer to my parents’. But I don’t have to. I’m sorry for assuming,” she quickly adds, peering down at her shoes.
“Hey,” I coo, using two fingers to raise her chin. I drown in those big, innocent emerald eyes. “Never apologize for wanting to stay the night. You know you’re always welcome in my home. And bed.”
She swallows hard at my bold statement. “I just, I didn’t want to assume. I mean lately…” But she pauses.
“What?” I prompt softly.
“Lately, you’ve just been distracted. I’ve hardly seen you all week. Have I done something wrong?” She looks regretful that she’s said too much, while I’m regretful that I’ve said too little.
As hard as I’ve tried to mask my shame, it obviously hasn’t been hard enough. She’s seen through my bullshit, just like I knew she would.
“No, Maddy, no. You’ve done nothing wrong.” I cup her cheeks, searching her eyes. “It’s me who’s done wrong.” She looks at me, waiting for me to explain. But I can’t.
“I’m sorry, you’re completely right. I’ve just been busy with…work.” She hears me break, but doesn’t press.
“Okay. As long as you’re sure.”
I stroke my thumb over her lower lip. “Yes, angelo, with you
I’m always sure. You’re the only stable thing in my life.” Her smile lights up the darkest night.
I kiss her forehead a second later. “C’mon, let’s go.” She nods.
I reach for her bag and shrug it onto my shoulder. “Jesus, what have you got in here? A dead body?”
She laughs. “Not yet.” I know she’s referring to Juliet and I can’t help but smirk at her comment.
If only my life was that easy.
We walk to my car hand in hand, with me listening to Madison fill me in on her week. I really have been a horrible boyfriend because when I ask her certain questions, she informs me I asked her the same ones last week.
“Are you sure everything is all right?” Madison asks as we’re waiting at the lights.
“Yes, why?”
She reaches over and stills my drumming fingers on the steering wheel as her response.
Looking over, I smile. “I’m fine. I just had a hard day today. I counseled my first teddy bear.”
“Pardon?” She retreats, pulling a similar face to mine when I was witnessing the debacle.
I grin at her adorability. “You don’t want to know.”
When she toys with her seatbelt, I wonder what’s troubling her. She answers my question a moment later. “I had my session today.”
“Oh?” Of course she did. It’s Tuesday today. Get it together, you damn fool.
“Yeah.” She leaves the word hanging, waiting for me to lead the conversation.
“How’d it go?” It’s been an unspoken rule between us that we don’t discuss her sessions. Ever. So I’m curious to know why she brought it up.
“Dr. Canetti thinks I’m making real progress. She suggested that I write my feelings down.”
“That’s a good idea,” I reply, pulling onto the freeway.
“So I have.”
