All Chapters of The Husband I Hate : Chapter 1 - Chapter 8

“Oh, God!” I gasped, holding on to the strong shoulders of the man currently on top of me. I could only whimper in confused pleasure as he pistoned in and out of my body. The stretch was the most delicious thing I had ever felt. The slow roll of his hips set the perfect rhythm, hitting all the right spots.How did I manage without this for so long? How was I content with a relationship with Dylan for three years when he never gave me pleasure that came close to this? But I didn't allow thoughts of Dylan to linger.I couldn't, even if I tried. I was too blissed out of my mind to think. "You good?" he murmured, still thrusting without losing his rhythm, his large grip tilting my waist at an angle to get the perfect thrust that hits that one spot. "Yes..." I moaned, "So good." After a few more strokes, he hit a particular spot that made me spasm around him as I came on a silent scream. The orgasm was so intense that I blacked out for a few seconds. I only regained consciousness f

I stood in front of the mirror in the office bathroom, inspecting myself. My outfit for the day was a two-piece set in shimmering pink satin. The blouse had a deep V-neckline with intricate lace trim delicately framing my bust, and the cinched bodice beautifully emphasised my waist before flaring slightly at the hips.The matching pink satin midi skirt swayed with every movement. On my feet were delicate pink sandals. My long, curly hair framed my face in lively waves, the dark curls contrasted nicely with the shimmering pink of my outfit. I chose it because it was a dress with the perfect balance of sultry and formal.Cara was my biggest client yet, and I had to look the part.A few minutes later, Meredith announced Cara's arrival. Cara Prescott waltzed into my office with the same confidence most New York socialites seem to possess. She was wearing a white button-down blouse with a tailored, vintage silhouette. A blouse I designed.Excitement welled up in my chest."Ahlia," Cara smi

Steeling my shoulders, I strode into the garden at the Prescott family mansion.I grew up rich, so I wasn't new to luxury. However, the Prescott family's wealth was on another level entirely. The kind of wealth most people could only dream of.The garden resembled a scene from a fantasy film. Calling it a garden almost seems inadequate. I could spot some of New York's elite mingling, champagne flutes in hand, nibbling at food from trays held by servers stationed within arm's reach. It was like an enchanted garden party.For the first time in a long while, I felt nervous. Suddenly, I regretted accepting Cara's invitation.“Ahlia," a voice called. I turned to see Cara walking towards me, smiling broadly."You're here," she breathed. "Come, come, let me show you around. My parents are preoccupied with guests. I'll introduce you to them later.""You look beautiful," she added. "Is that an original piece?""Oh no. It's Dior. I got it in São Paulo a year ago," I breathed, trying to keep up

​I stood with everyone else as Cara started her walk down the aisle, her hand resting lightly on her father's arm. I was anxious. Probably almost as anxious as the bride herself. Which, I guess, would be considered an absurd feeling to have right now, as someone who is in no way related to the bride, but I think it's normal for me to feel this way. I did spend weeks making that wedding dress, so you could say I had a certain amount of emotional and physical investment in this ceremony. I spent weeks with that fabric, so much so that it started to feel as familiar as my own skin. ​The white silk caught the rays of the sun. The ceremony had a gold-and-white theme that contrasted nicely with the late-morning sun's golden hue. The gown’s boned corset cinched her waist, its sweetheart neckline edged with delicate ruffles. The skirt swept down in heavy cascades of silk and satin, whispering against the stone floor with every step. It was beautiful but not too ostentatious. Cara cut a