Too Close For Comfort

Casey stood by the window twisting her wedding ring while Shane paced, giddy to see Marilyn. The thought of his stepmother's visit made his eyes light up; it only twisted Casey's gut tighter. 'She doesn't like me,' Casey muttered. Shane waved it off, said they just needed more time together, but the words sounded hollow even as he spoke them. Marilyn burst through the door dragging two heavy bags and planted a kiss on Shane's mouth that lasted longer than any stepmother should give. Casey froze. Something inside her slipped. Marilyn's gaze slid past her like she wasn't even there. Later Casey came down the hall and found Marilyn leaning close, lips at Shane's ear, eyes glinting as she caught Casey's stare. Dinner plans, Shane swore. Casey said nothing. Next evening Marilyn's stare crawled over Shane's bare chest. Still Casey bit her tongue. On the third night the dam broke. Shane and Marilyn were on the couch, hands roaming each other's thighs, mouths almost touching. 'What the FUCK are you doing?' Casey snapped. Shane jerked away, face pale with shame, but Marilyn only smirked and told her plain: she and Shane had been fucking long before Casey walked into the picture. Casey's world tilted. Shane begged forgiveness, said he tried to stop once he married her, said he loved her, but every time Marilyn was near, the hunger won. Casey looked at the two of them and made her choice. If Marilyn owned him, maybe she could own both of them. Marilyn's lips curled—resistance, then a slow nod. They tumbled onto the couch together, Casey fighting for her marriage with lips, tongue, and every desperate move she had left.