Trucker Wife's Midnight Stalker - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading Trucker Wife's Midnight Stalker, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of Trucker Wife's Midnight Stalker.
My thoughts kept circling back to that rugged stranger, sending waves of nervous anticipation through me. I willed my husband to leave—now.
But he just pulled me closer, murmuring about how late it was, how exhausted. "First thing in the morning," he promised before drifting off.
I lay there, restless, my mind a storm of contradictions.
That man. The way he'd touched me. The silence of the night only magnified the ache inside me, the hunger I couldn't satisfy. My husband's steady snores mocked me as I twisted under the thin blanket, unable to escape my own thoughts.
Then—movement.
A soft shuffle outside the car.
My breath hitched.
Was it him? Had he come back?
Part of me recoiled at the thought, terrified of what might happen if my husband woke. But another part... another part needed to speak to him. To stop this before it went too far.
I slipped out of the car.
And froze.
A shadow crouched near the fuel tank, jerry can in hand.
Fuel thieves.
My stomach dropped. These weren't just opportunistic strangers—they were bandits. I spun to shake my husband awake, to scream—
A hand clamped over my mouth.
I thrashed, but the grip was iron. The man dragged me forward, and as my eyes adjusted, I realized—there weren't just one or two.
Five.
All young. All dangerous.
And among them—him. The same cocky, muscular bastard who'd had his hands all over me earlier.
His gaze burned as it raked over my bare legs, my short skirt. A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips.
"Fuel's expensive," he murmured, stepping closer. "But we can be persuaded to leave it alone... if you keep us entertained."
I jerked back, but his friends closed in, circling me. One yanked the car door open, forcing me to look at my sleeping husband.
A threat. A promise.
My blood turned to ice.
They'd sabotaged us. Slashed the tires. They weren't just thieves—they were predators.
And I was trapped.
"Don't scream," the leader purred, his breath hot against my ear. "Wouldn't want your man to wake up and see what a good little plaything you are for us, would you?"
Trembling, I obeyed.
Shame warred with something darker as their hands found me, as my body betrayed me under their rough attention. Tears spilled down my cheeks even as heat pooled low in my stomach.
I hated myself for it.
But I couldn't stop.
A sharp rip—
Cool night air kissed my skin as fabric tore away.
Their laughter was low, hungry.
Fingers dug into my thigh.
And I knew—they weren't done with me yet.
But he just pulled me closer, murmuring about how late it was, how exhausted. "First thing in the morning," he promised before drifting off.
I lay there, restless, my mind a storm of contradictions.
That man. The way he'd touched me. The silence of the night only magnified the ache inside me, the hunger I couldn't satisfy. My husband's steady snores mocked me as I twisted under the thin blanket, unable to escape my own thoughts.
Then—movement.
A soft shuffle outside the car.
My breath hitched.
Was it him? Had he come back?
Part of me recoiled at the thought, terrified of what might happen if my husband woke. But another part... another part needed to speak to him. To stop this before it went too far.
I slipped out of the car.
And froze.
A shadow crouched near the fuel tank, jerry can in hand.
Fuel thieves.
My stomach dropped. These weren't just opportunistic strangers—they were bandits. I spun to shake my husband awake, to scream—
A hand clamped over my mouth.
I thrashed, but the grip was iron. The man dragged me forward, and as my eyes adjusted, I realized—there weren't just one or two.
Five.
All young. All dangerous.
And among them—him. The same cocky, muscular bastard who'd had his hands all over me earlier.
His gaze burned as it raked over my bare legs, my short skirt. A slow, knowing smirk curled his lips.
"Fuel's expensive," he murmured, stepping closer. "But we can be persuaded to leave it alone... if you keep us entertained."
I jerked back, but his friends closed in, circling me. One yanked the car door open, forcing me to look at my sleeping husband.
A threat. A promise.
My blood turned to ice.
They'd sabotaged us. Slashed the tires. They weren't just thieves—they were predators.
And I was trapped.
"Don't scream," the leader purred, his breath hot against my ear. "Wouldn't want your man to wake up and see what a good little plaything you are for us, would you?"
Trembling, I obeyed.
Shame warred with something darker as their hands found me, as my body betrayed me under their rough attention. Tears spilled down my cheeks even as heat pooled low in my stomach.
I hated myself for it.
But I couldn't stop.
A sharp rip—
Cool night air kissed my skin as fabric tore away.
Their laughter was low, hungry.
Fingers dug into my thigh.
And I knew—they weren't done with me yet.
End of Trucker Wife's Midnight Stalker Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Trucker Wife's Midnight Stalker book page.