All Chapters of CHASE ME, HUSBAND: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Irene's POV Looking at me, stun flashed in his expression as he wiped the drink off his jacket, mouthing, 'Shit.' My gaze flicked between him and the lady in the green slipdress, whom I already know as Bria Anderson. Pursing her lips, she shot me a look. You couldn’t be in the fashion world and not know her. "Oh, she's the one?” She asked. He pulled me closer, resting his hand on the small of my back. "Irene, meet Bria. She's a creative.” Her lips twisted into a smile as she extended her hand, and I took it. “Hi Bria, I just got into the FIT student program. I really love your work.” I complimented. Thinking of my admission and the possibility that I could lose it made a lump rise in my throat. He squeezed the skin on my back gently, and my muscles relaxed, making me aware of how close we stood. This event. I've not only dreamed of it. I've spent sleepless nights reworking my lookbook, hoping it'll see the light of day. Soon. And he just dropped the opportunity in my lap?


Irene's POV Collapsing into my bed, I felt my head grow heavy; my legs felt like bricks. Must be the margaritas. No, the shots. Then my phone rang in my bag. Trying to keep my eyes open, I searched for it only to realize I had dropped my bag at the door. Sheesh, that was like a mile away. Contemplating the best option, if I should crawl to it or just let it be, I drifted off. Beep! Beep! My alarm buzzed, and I woke up with a start, rolling out of the bed only to land my butt against the cold tiles. "Ouch!" I winced, rubbing my butt as I stood up. Reaching for the alarm on my bedside, I hit it off, yawning. I guess I forgot to deactivate the alarm because I thought I'd be needing it for classes. Dragging myself to the bathroom, I peeled off my dress from last night, feeling for my panties. Pressing my lips together, I noticed how wet they were. It just took a few acts of service and small talks with his hands here and there on me to get me soaking wet for him. Rene, you

Irene’s POV Getting on my feet, I raked my fingers through my hair. “The scholarship?” “Yeah. I—“ “What right did you have to do that?” I fired. He went mute. “What are you? Some charity husband-to-be.” Again. Nothing. Pacing, I had the urge to toss my phone at the wall and shatter it into fucking pieces. Because why was he so quiet? It made that thing in my chest tighten up in realization. His plans to get married to me was charity from the very beginning. I guess a part of me hated to acknowledge it. And since he’d called off the engagement himself, it felt like he didn’t want his pathetic charity case rotting away, so he stuck around to help. So he wouldn’t feel guilty. “You’re not going to say anything, Mr. Stranger?" I asked, hating how I remembered that nickname. A nickname like that would have never existed if he had remained a stranger. “The engagement is happening next week. My stepmom wants to have your dress made.” He finally said. Cold pressed against my si

Irene’s POV Cold air hit my bare skin, feeling his warm breath fan against my thighs. “Someone might see us. Worse, take a picture.” Pressing my lips together, I fisted a hand in his hair, trying not to scream as heat crawled up my skin. “There’s a no-phone rule. Now, spread those legs for me.” He hissed a groan. Yes. This was it. Loud music blasted through the speakers, piercing screams of the excited crowds mixing into one in the air, and all of those drifted off from my mind as he tugged my panties down my legs. “You smell so good. Fucking vanilla, doll face.” “Who did you go bare down there for?” He asked, planting wet kisses against my nubs, and I pushed my hips up. “Get away from me.” I said in a small voice, my nails digging deeper into his hair, that I was sure I’d be ripping out some strands if this sweet torture continued. “Look at us, doll face, my face in your wet pussy. In front of all these people.” He grunted his words, his tongue skimming through my folds, an


Irene’s POV My eyes widened at him. “What?” “We didn’t even talk about it.” I nodded, and he dropped the knife, lifting his eyes. “Talk about what?” He asked, his arms folding across his chest, his brow furrowed. Sensing the mood in the atmosphere switch up, I tried to soften my voice. “You said you’d leave it up to me. What changed?” “Nothing. I figured out since you don’t mind talking to strangers and offering yourself to them, I can decide whatever the fuck I want." “On my own terms.” He added. Oh…ok. I blinked, nodding at his words even if I didn’t agree to anything. “So this is what this is about. You’re jealous.” I accused, and the corner of his lips twitched. "Jealous is a deep word for a slut. Don’t you think?” Something snapped in my chest. Not at being called a slut but the way he said it. The disgust in his voice. I… I thought we were— We stared back at each other, tension filling the silence. “Why’s everywhere so quiet? Do ghosts live h