How To Dress Like A Hot Guy Husband?

Mother-in-law: “You shall leave my daughter immediately, you’re a complete piece of trash who isn’t worthy of her.”Three days later, the son-in-law drives up in a luxurious car.Mother-in-law: “Please, I’m begging you, don’t leave my daughter.”

"Holy crap, you are so boring!" He pushed her against the wall, placing his hands on either side of her and staring into her eyes in frustration. He is shirtless and has flat abs touching her body, which is giving her goosebumps. "I don't know how to kiss." She looked at the man, pouting her lips. He scoffed at her boring reply. "Teach me how to kiss." She mumbled, licking her lips, and grabbed his attention. He looked down at her and stroked his hair with his fingers, pulling her close by her waist. "Stand on my toes." He smirked, sending chills down her spine. She climbed over, placing both feet on his toes. "Look into my eyes." He grabbed her chin and make her look into his eyes. She looked into his green-pricing eyes, rolling her fingers on his trimmed beard. "Concentrate on my lips." He synced, licking his lips. Her heart skipped a beat as he pressed her thin lips between his thumbs. And she moaned in response, rolling her eyes at his lips. "Seal your lips on mine and chew it up like an ice cream." He explained the first step, bending his head to seal her lips. "Aaaachuuuuu!!" She sneezed loudly before he sealed her lips. "ANGELINA." He yelled at the top of his lungs. "I’m sorry, hubby." Angelina closed her eyes, covering them with both hands. Angelina is a twenty-year-old college student with lots of goals in life, but she doesn't have parents to give her pocket money and support her financially. But one day, she married a billionaire and then her tragic life turned into a romantic one. Now the question is - how will Angelina satisfy her husband and his desires when she has only experienced struggles in her past life?

My husband dotes on me. He's always saying I'm the one he cherishes most in this life. Everyone else envies me too, saying I married well—pampered like a princess. It all started when I mentioned, offhand, that tailored cuts flatter my figure. From that moment on, he kept it in mind every day, going out of his way to gather all kinds of designer womenswear for me. In the walk-in closet at home, there's always a wardrobe filled exclusively with my new clothes—each piece haute couture, with exquisite fabrics and impeccable craftsmanship. On New Year's Eve in our third year of marriage, the house was lively, packed with relatives chatting and laughing. With a smile, my husband handed me a gift box. "Go on, open your New Year's present." The frustration and resentment I'd been bottling up for so long exploded in an instant. I shoved the box to the floor. "It's the New Year—can you just stop for once?" The moment the words left my mouth, everyone fell silent. The relatives' expressions shifted; one after another, they began to scold me for being ungrateful, for not knowing how lucky I was. My husband looked at me, eyes full of shock and hurt. "I just bought you some pretty clothes. Why are you angry?" Amid their pointing fingers and his wounded questioning, I rushed into the walk-in closet like I'd lost my mind, dragging out those designer clothes and throwing them all over the floor. Everyone stared at me, stunned. No one said another word.

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Three years married, yet my husband and I had never once held hands. With a grudge I'd been quietly nursing, I took a photo of myself in sexy lingerie with my back to the camera and sent it to him from a throwaway account. I expected it to go nowhere. Two minutes later, my phone buzzed. [Your family member has purchased a same-day return flight.] [She's just keeping you around for fun. Don't let me catch you, you horndog.]

The boss's wife, Irene Peters, was insanely hot. She would often just stretch out her soft, stockinged feet and sway them in front of me. I couldn't help myself and snapped a quick photo. Then I ducked into the restroom, staring at it while pleasuring myself. I was halfway through when the door suddenly swung open. Irene stood there, staring at me with her eyes wide. "Wow, how are you that big? And what were you doing, taking pictures of me?" I jumped, scrambling to pull my pants back up. But instead of getting mad, she looked almost amused. "You're done for. I'm telling Fabian." A minute later, my boss, Fabian Peters, showed up. I braced myself, expecting to get chewed out or fired on the spot. Instead, he stuffed a wad of cash into my hand. "My wife hasn't been able to get pregnant," he said. "You're well-built. Help me out."