Wife With Stranger Novels & Stories

I was about to push it open when a man in a light gray shirt stepped out first. I took one look and knew he was exactly the type Serena Vaughn would like—clean-cut, composed, carrying himself with quiet steadiness. “And you are?” he asked. His eyes swept quickly over Ethan in my arms, and his expression shifted. “I’m Serena’s husband, Lucas Drake,” I said evenly. “I came to see how my wife managed to sign herself as a family member to your child.” A nurse pushed a treatment cart past us in the hallway, and several family members chatted nearby.

Max pushed him back and The stranger threw a bunch in the sky, yet, Max was quick to dough it. Max returned the Favour, sending the stranger flying to the ground, his ass hitting the floor. Max rushed to punch him in the face when he was stopped by the strangers voice. “Stop!” The stranger breathed heavily. “I’ll tell you.” Max paused and returned his back upright. He placed his hands on his waist, waiting for the strangers response to who had sent him. “So tell me.” Max looked at him, “who sent you?” “It’s your wife, Nichole.” Max was flushed hearing that she had sent this man not only to find him but to take pictures of he and Carmela.

She turned to the maid and asked her in a haughty voice. “Who is she? And what are you doing with her?” The maid bowed her head respectfully and answered her in a timid voice. “She’s Jamal’s wife, ma’am. And we’re just learning flower arranging.” The stranger’s eyes widened in shock and anger. She looked at me again with disbelief and disgust. “Jamal’s wife? You mean his bride?” She spat out the word like it was poison. “Yes, ma’am.” The maid said nervously. The stranger laughed mockingly and shook her head.

The man looks at Max, “We didn’t get any information on your wife for the auction. Lisa has a moment, if we hurry, we can get the form all filled out for the auctioneer to read.” Max puts an arm around my waist and kisses the side of my head before telling the man, “Mr. Brahm, I cannot auction off my wife. We have only been married for a few months and have yet to spend an evening apart. Perhaps next year.” “Nonsense, it is tradition. Besides, it is for a good cause,” The man replies. He signals to a woman speaking to another couple near us. “This is my wife, Lisa. Darling, this is Mrs. Sturgis,” He says.

I used to be jealous of women whose husbands cheated, at least they were being touched. Mine barely looked at me anymore. Then one night he walked into our penthouse with his mistress beside him and calmly informed me she was pregnant. I wish I could say I handled it with dignity….I didn’t. Instead, I got drunk, disappeared upstairs at a masquerade gala and let a complete stranger drag sounds out of me that even I didn’t know I could make. I never saw his face, but now….he’s everywhere around me, looking at me like that night belongs to him too. And the more my husband tries to pull me back, the more dangerous the stranger becomes.

She kept running, not knowing where she was headed, just needing to escape. As she rushed down the street, she collided with someone—a man, solid and imposing, who stopped her fall. She looked up, her breath catching in her throat. He was nothing like the men in the club. His presence was commanding, powerful. Before she could react, Mr. Edwards appeared behind her, shouting threats. The stranger stepped forward, blocking Mr. Edwards’s path. “She’s my wife.” Nadia’s breath caught. The words hit her like a thunderclap. Who was this man?

I couldn't be any worse! A figure emerged from the shadows. “Looking for someone?” he sneered. I tackled him, fists flying. “Where is she?!” I demanded, my voice echoing. The stranger stumbled back, revealing a twisted grin. “Layla's...mine now.” “What?!” I gazed at him. “She is my wife! Are you out of your mind?” “Stop!” He screamed. “Stop calling her your wife! It pisses me off.” This guy's crazy!

"Dear??? Get the fuck away from my wife!" He lunged across to hit the guy, but the second masked guy was faster, slamming him back down like he weighed nothing. The guy slammed on top of him, his chest to the husband's back. "Stay still, hubby," the guy growled, rubbing his denim-covered cock on the husband's fleshy ass. I sat there, mouth dry, cock thickening in my shorts. This was what my supposed innocent, sweet wife watched? The same woman who still covered her eyes when I ate her cunt out. Had she always wanted to be fucked by masked strangers?

“All of you, get out! “Let me tell you something. I might have a limp, but I’m a veteran who crawled through gunfire to survive. I’m not some pushover.” Wayne was intimidated by my gaze. He froze in place, not daring to step forward. Aiden was so frightened that he hid behind Wallace and sobbed. The commotion alerted the neighbors. Several households opened their doors and poked their heads out. They started pointing and murmuring among each other. “Isn’t that Alvin’s house? What’s all the noise about?” “Who are those people? That woman looks kind of familiar.” “She looks like Alvin’s wife. I heard that she passed away young.”

Lightning flashed outside. A tall man stood there, dripping wet, his eyes sharp. The wife gasped. Her body went stiff. “Oh my God,” she whispered. The husband frowned. “Who the hell are you?” The stranger stepped forward, boots heavy on the floor. His eyes didn’t leave the wife. His voice was rough. “You never told them about me.” Her face turned white. She stepped back, clutching her robe, but it slipped and fell open. Matteo looked at her, then at the man. “Who is he?” The stranger’s jaw clenched. His voice cut through the storm. “I’m her first husband.”