All Chapters of My Mom's Boyfriend : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

73 Chapters

Almost caught again

(Marcus’s POV)We were in the living room again. The same damn couch where it had all started weeks ago, now our favorite spot for these risky midday fucks whenever Bianca was supposed to be at work. Beverley was bent over the armrest, her tight little shorts pulled down around her ankles, her perfect ass presented to me like an offering. My cock was buried deep inside her, stretching her slick pussy as I fucked her hard from behind. Each powerful thrust made her ass jiggle deliciously, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the empty house.“Fuck, Bev… you feel so good,” I groaned, gripping her hips tighter, pulling her back onto me with every stroke. She moaned loudly into the cushion, her voice muffled but still raw and needy. “Marcus… harder… please…” Her back arched, pushing her ass higher, taking every inch like the greedy little slut she’d become for me. I reached forward and tangled my hand in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp. Sweat glistened on her ski

A mother's effort

(Bianca’s POV)I had forgotten the file and my laptop for work. In the middle of a hectic morning meeting prep, I realized it was still sitting on the dining table at home. Frustrated with myself, I turned the car around at the next exit and drove back, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. Traffic was already building, and I was running behind schedule. My mind wandered as I navigated the familiar streets, replaying the strange tension that had been building in the house lately. Linda’s warning refused to fade. I told myself I was imagining things, but the little observations kept piling up like unwelcome evidence in a case I didn’t want to investigate.When I pulled into the driveway and let myself in through the front door, the house felt oddly still. Then I saw him. Marcus was in the living room, looking completely flustered. His shirt was off, tossed somewhere out of sight, and his sweatpants were barely hanging on his hips, crooked as if pulled up in a hurry. His face was flushed a

Jealousy

(Beverley’s POV)We came back from the girls’ day out in the evening, the sun already dipping low and painting the sky in soft oranges and pinks. The car ride home had been mostly quiet, with Mom humming along to the radio and occasionally glancing over at me with that hopeful, searching look she’d been wearing all day. I felt a pang of guilt every time our eyes met, but it was quickly drowned out by the constant buzz of my phone in my pocket. Marcus had been texting me nonstop since we left the house that morning. Dirty, filthy messages that made my face burn and my thighs press together in the passenger seat.It started innocently enough during our nail salon appointment. My phone vibrated while the technician was massaging lotion into my feet.Marcus: I can’t stop thinking about how tight you felt last night. The way your pussy squeezed me when you came all over my cock.I nearly dropped my phone into the warm water. Heat flooded my cheeks, and I shifted uncomfortably, hoping Mom

Promises

(Marcus’s POV)That night, after Bianca had finally gone to bed, the house settled into that heavy, expectant silence I had come to crave. I waited in the dark of our bedroom, listening to her breathing even out into the steady rhythm of sleep. She had been affectionate earlier, kissing me goodnight, her hand lingering on my chest, but my mind had already been upstairs, with Beverley. The jealousy I’d sensed from her earlier, the way she’d been quiet at dinner, the flushed cheeks when her phone buzzed during the girls’ day… it all needed managing. I slipped out of bed carefully, pulling on a pair of loose sweatpants, my cock already stirring at the thought of what was waiting for me down the hall.The floorboards creaked faintly under my weight as I moved through the hallway, but I knew every spot to avoid. Living here had taught me the map of this house’s secrets. I paused outside Beverley’s door, heart pounding with that familiar mix of adrenaline and lust. This was risky, Bianca c

Another warning

(Bianca’s POV)Linda came over again the next day, just as she often did on her days off. It was one of those comforting routines that usually lifted my spirits, a chance to vent about work, share laughs over coffee, and feel like I wasn’t carrying the weight of the world alone. But today, the visit felt heavier. The doubts that had been simmering since her last warning had boiled over after yesterday’s strange encounter with Marcus. I barely slept the night before, replaying the image of him standing in the living room: shirtless, flushed, breathing hard, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Something about it had lodged in my mind like a splinter I couldn’t remove.We settled in the living room with our mugs of coffee, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains and casting soft patterns on the couch, the same couch where I’d found him yesterday. The house was quiet. Beverley was upstairs in her room, and Marcus had gone out to run some errands. It felt like the perfect m

Little lies

(Bianca’s POV)I started noticing the little lies everywhere, like cracks spreading across the foundation of what I thought was a solid home. After Linda’s latest warning, I had committed to paying closer attention, but I hadn’t expected how quickly the small deceptions would reveal themselves once I was truly looking. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and now every interaction carried an undercurrent of something hidden.One afternoon, I returned from the store earlier than usual, my arms loaded with grocery bags. The house was quiet in a way that felt too deliberate. I called out as I set the bags on the kitchen counter, “I’m home! Anyone want to help put these away?”Marcus appeared from the direction of the hallway, looking relaxed in a T-shirt and shorts. He smiled that easy, charming smile of his and came over to help, kissing my cheek. “Hey, babe. Good timing, I was just wrapping up some work.”“Where were you two?” I asked casually, starting to unload the milk and eggs. “T

Heart to heart

(Beverley’s POV)Mom knocked on my door that evening, a soft, hesitant rap that made my heart jump into my throat. I was lying on my bed, scrolling through old texts from Marcus, my body still faintly aching from our stolen moment earlier that afternoon when Mom had been at the store. The messages were filthy, promising more, and they left me restless. When I heard her voice through the wood, “Beverley? Can we talk?” I quickly locked my phone and shoved it under my pillow, my pulse racing for an entirely different reason now.“Come in,” I called, trying to sound normal. Casual. Like I wasn’t hiding a mountain of secrets that could destroy everything.She stepped inside, closing the door gently behind her. She looked tired but determined, wearing her favorite cozy sweater and leggings, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail the way she used to when I was younger and we’d have our late-night talks. For the first time in a long time, it felt like the old days, just the two of us. No Ma

Meant to be

(Beverley’s POV)I tried to distance myself from Marcus. After that heart-to-heart with Mom, the guilt had become unbearable, a living thing that twisted in my stomach every waking moment and haunted my dreams at night. Her words kept replaying in my head: how Marcus had brought her love, peace, and stability after Dad left. How she finally felt safe and cherished again. Every time I saw her smiling at him across the dinner table, her eyes lighting up with genuine affection, or heard her soft laugh when he teased her about something silly, I felt physically sick. Nausea would rise in my throat, and I’d have to excuse myself to the bathroom just to splash cold water on my face and breathe.This was wrong. So incredibly wrong. I had spent the night after her visit curled up in bed, crying silently into my pillow, torn between the overwhelming love I felt for my mother and the addictive pull Marcus had on me. She trusted me. She trusted him. And I had betrayed that trust in the most deva

Suspicious notification

(Bianca’s POV)I was in the kitchen making coffee, the familiar morning routine offering a small sliver of normalcy in what had become an increasingly tense household. The rich aroma of fresh grounds filled the air as I poured water into the machine, my movements mechanical after another restless night. Sleep had been elusive lately, haunted by fragments of Linda’s warnings, the cold laptop in the study, and the vague answers Beverley gave whenever I tried to connect. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the lingering fog of doubt that seemed to follow me everywhere now.Marcus had come downstairs a few minutes earlier, still in his sleep pants and an old T-shirt, looking as handsome and put-together as always. He’d kissed my cheek absentmindedly, murmured something about needing to check emails, and set his phone down on the counter before heading to the bathroom. The device sat there innocently, screen dark, a symbol of the small trusts we still shared. Or at least, the trust I was

Pressure

(Beverley’s POV)I couldn’t take it anymore. The secrecy, the lies, the constant fear of getting caught, it was all suffocating me, pressing down on my chest until I could barely breathe. Every day felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of guilt and terror. Mom’s heart-to-heart the other night had cracked something open inside me. Her warm hand in mine, her hopeful eyes talking about finding real love and safety, the way she spoke about Marcus like he was her savior after Dad left… it replayed on loop in my head. I was destroying that. I was the poison in our family, spreading lies and stealing moments that didn’t belong to me.That night, after Mom had gone to bed, I sat on the edge of my mattress in the dark, knees drawn up to my chest, heart hammering. I had ignored Marcus’s texts all evening, short, pleading messages asking if I was okay, if we could talk. My phone lay silent on the nightstand now, but I knew he’d come. He always did. The floorboards in the hallway creaked fain

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