Pleasure to earn, p.1
Pleasure to Earn, page 1
Pleasure to Earn
H. N. DeFore
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Trigger Warning
1 Anita
2 Anita
3 Russell
4 Anita
5 Russell
6 Anita
7 Russell
8 Russell
9 Anita
10 Anita
11 Russell
12 Anita
13 Russell
14 Anita
15 Anita
16 Russell
17 Henry
18 Anita
19 Russell
20 Anita
21 Russell
22 Anita
23 Russell
Epilogue
Up Next
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
PLEASURE TO EARN
First edition. Spring 2024
B&N exclusive cover: Spring 2024
Copyright © 2024 H. N. DeFore.
Written by H. N. DeFore
Cover Design by H. N. DeFore
Edited by Heather Knight-Burton
Dedication
If you’ve ever wanted to show your ex what he’s missing out on, and make him eat his words…
Enjoy a bit of revenge.
Trigger Warning
If no triggers, skip to Chapter 1
This dark romance includes the following list of triggers:
This is a dark romance featuring an MF couple, with a few MFM sex scenes throughout the book. Detailed MFM scenes are consensual.
There are mentions of non consent involving a threesome MFM at the beginning of the book which are discussed but not heavily detailed.
Both the FMC and MMC have a list of kinks, including temperature play involving ice and fire, shibari, blindfolds, hand necklaces, anal play, mentions of submerging the head underwater during sex, bondage outdoors, primal and light CNC, revenge and using a partner as a sex toy.
Switch play is used during several MFM scenes where the submissive female can become the dominant to the other male during a sex scene. This is discussed throughout the book.
There is discussion of loss of a parent and emotional damage/triggers.
Your mental health always matters. Read with care and enjoy the story!
1 Anita
"You can't invite a third person into the bedroom without consulting me."
It’s a bold statement, and I feel the tension bubble between us. Even though this particular issue took place months ago, we’ve never really crossed that bridge. There was no true discussion after that night, just a blowout and the resulting divorce. I made my feelings abundantly clear, and he tried to downplay it.
That didn’t really work out for him in the end.
Henry's cool facade turns angry. I've got one hand on the door, the thin chain at the top in place to keep people out. His annoyed eyes glare at me through the narrow gap. “Consulting? What, you wanted me to pencil it in?”
“Maybe talking about it first would’ve helped,” I snap back, my hand tightening on the frame. I’m not sure why I even opened the door for him. The pounding was intense, but no more so than my headache or any other time he’s stopped by over the last few weeks. He’s not going to break down my door to get in my face. Henry is all bark, no bite.
He wants to talk. Have a little amicable chit chat about what’s gone on between us, but there’s no going back. The ink is still fresh on my copy of the divorce decree, and we signed a prenup long before the wedding to avoid any issues in case we ever did decide to split up.
In legal terms, it’s over. It’s been over for more than two weeks.
“I talked to you about it that morning.” He drags his fingers through his limp brown hair, the locks lying like a rag on top of his head. There’s no life in it, just like there was no heat in our marriage unless we were in the middle of an argument. “I brought the wine-”
“Tying me up so you could have a go at me with Remy isn’t what I meant,” I interrupt, fisting the hand he can’t see. It’s shaking, but I don’t want him to know that this conversation is affecting me.
“You said you wanted it!”
I scoff, shoving the door in an attempt to close it. Henry won’t budge, puzzled brown eyes staring down at me. He isn’t all that tall, but everyone is taller than I am and he’s using it to his advantage. “I said I would try something new.”
“You said you’d be down to take two dicks at once.”
Blushing, I lean back from the door. Maybe, if he was truly angry, he could wrench the door open and get in here. But Henry prefers to do everything on his terms, and breaking into my house would look bad if anyone got involved.
And it won’t get him what he wants. The three-way was a poorly planned idea, and the way he handled things during and after sealed the deal for a divorce. I’ve used the threesome as blackmail towards both Henry and Remy whenever the issue comes up, but they can do the same to me. I don’t have any proof of what really went down, so they could drag me through the dirt as easily as I can turn on them.
This never should've happened, and using a coworker made things even worse.
I press my lips together, willing myself to calm down. My fingers itch to twist my short, dark brown hair between my fingers and search for a moment of calmness. My hair is a shade or two lighter than my chocolate brown eyes, another detail about me that Henry used to find a reason to complain about. In his words, I’m too mousy, a detail he only decided to bring up whenever he wants to make a jab or would prefer to act like my looks are way too basic and boring for his tastes.
That really isn’t true, and it’s not as though there’s been distance between us since we filed the paperwork. We see each other almost daily; same hospital, same floor. Except he’s still doing trauma surgery, and I’ve switched my focus to imaging and radiology. And I know for a fact the few people who do bother to look his way and no more impressive than I am.
It’s not a decision I made lightly. Changing focus really isn’t a good idea this late in the game, but my credentials and classes pretty much pushed me through to still graduate on time. I won’t have to go back to do any additional coursework and I can keep my internship at the hospital after December as a real, full-time job.
When we were in pre-med together, falling in love and getting married like every played-out story seemed ideal. We could both be surgeons, understand each other’s schedules, and live a happy life.
But when he surprised me with his buddy over the summer, things changed. It put distance between us. The fickle flame that burned between us died on my end, and we split as amicably as possible, both of us aware that either one of us could retaliate at any moment and turn this divorce into something ugly.
Henry’s a year ahead of me. He’s already a surgeon, with more backing and expertise than I currently have. I made the choice to switch focus so that I could still have a job where I liked, near the department I wanted, without having to change too much of my life to avoid working side by side with him. I tried to convince myself radiology would give me more time for myself outside of work.
But radiology wasn’t the dream either.
“I…” my voice trails off, and Henry raises a brow as I hesitate. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“So you were leading me on?”
“No-”
“Cause it’s really not nice to lie,” he continues, frustrated. “And I looked like an ass bringing Remy over. Those ropes you threw out were his-”
“And I had the burns they left for a week,” I say through gritted teeth. Maybe Remy knew the right ties, but it’s hard to remember the foggy details. He tied them a touch too tight so that blood flow wasn’t just focused, but nearly cut off in my arms. I kept telling Remy to let up and he didn’t listen until I could see his face and yell his name.
I swallow at the memory. Waking up in a drunken haze was frightening enough, but the binding feel of the ropes cutting into my skin scared me instead of arousing me. Henry didn’t even clue me in as to who was playing with us until I could see his face, and Remy chose not to listen. I had to get in his personal space and scream to ruin the mood for Remy before he finally backed off and Henry followed him like a whipped dog.
I’ve looked it up since then. There's a treated rope that you can use for something called shibari - also something I know nothing about. I think that’s where the intention was going, but the friction just left me with rope burns and a fear of being tied up.
“You really know how to kill the vibe,” Henry grumbles, shaking his head again. “You could’ve safe-worded us, right? That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
The suppressed rage bubbles up inside me. “But I did!”
“Then speak louder,” Henry retorts and all I can do is stare. We hashed this argument out a dozen times before I filed the papers. I warred with myself over it for a long time, knowing Myla would do a great job defending me if I had only asked.
My bestie has her own issues. They are mostly resolved now, and she seems happy with her new guy. She's a little less nosy than Laci, who I'm certain is going to find out first, but shame keeps me from confiding in them. When things first went down, Myla was still with her ex, and it wasn’t the time to bother them with my issues.
Neither of them ever liked Henry. Our divorce won't change their minds about him.
And now it's over, so I owe nothing to the man standing out
“Go home, Henry. We've got work tomorrow.”
“I am home. You're just too stubborn to see that and let me back in.”
I blow out a sigh. Listening isn't a skill Henry picked up on over the years.
“You got the other house off I36,” I tell him, ignoring his scoff. “It's bigger. Just go home to that.”
“You know, Nita, no one's going to settle for you again. You were hard enough to deal with and I love you. How will someone else deal with all your faults if they don't even know you?”
The words sting, as I'm sure they were meant to. If I were bold like my other best friend Laci, I'd tell him off. But instead I shrug, insecurity picking at me, and try to shove the door closed.
“Don't worry, baby. You'll come crawling back soon. I know you won't find anyone else who'll settle for you.” His eyes rove down my frame, focusing on my thick thighs and my soft middle, which have always given me a complex. My friends always shared clothes because they are the same size, but I’m the outlier. The cute, curvy friend.
It’s a nice way to say I’m heavy, as Henry so often likes to remind me.
When he lets go of the door I slam it closed, half expecting his laughter to reach me even through the wood. But it doesn't come, and I peer out the peephole to see him seething on the front porch. After a beat he paces away, doubles back, and jiggles the handle.
My breath catches when he pulls out a key, trying the lock. I changed them the day the divorce went through, but the fact that he's trying to come back in and ignore what I'm saying doesn't sit well with me.
He grumbles on the other side of the door, too quiet for me to hear. I've nearly pierced my skin with my nails from how hard I’m clenching my hands when he finally turns and stomps away, flipping off the door as he goes.
I step back until my heels hit the stairs, falling back to sit down and catch my head in my hands. The rush of fear is unexpected, and I'm hyperventilating before I know what's happening.
Breathe, just breathe. In and out.
Remy isn't here. The locks are secure. Henry won’t break in.
I go through what I've learned in school to calm down someone who's panicking, and after what feels like way too long, it works. My breath catches, hands pressing to my chest as I try to keep from losing it.
I swallow down the nerves, forcing myself to stand when I think my legs will hold me. I walk to the front door, checking again that I don't see Henry loitering outside, before I turn from the frame and examine my house.
Half the things are gone. Half my life walked out the door long before the divorce was final.
My lip suffers between my teeth as I walk to the kitchen, staring at the divorce decree that I hung on the fridge like a reward.
But it doesn’t feel like one. I'm alone now, and with the holidays approaching and my friends finding their own happiness, I'm feeling bitter and alone.
After glaring at the decree for a solid minute, I turn from the fridge to the large mirror hung on the wall in the living room, lifting up my shirt to examine my skin.
The rope incident happened a couple months ago. It caused me to shut down when my friends needed me and Henry claimed to want me. Now I stare at the smooth slopes of my belly and hips, my curves highlighted by the leggings I threw on.
My deep olive skin is blemish-free now, but when I close my eyes I still feel the ropes. They were poorly done. Even I know that and I know nothing about kink play, much less ropes.
I keep looking for the faults Remy mentioned, the ones he likes to tell me in passing whenever we see each other at work. I'm too curvy, too heavy, too fragile to take anything good.
My hands drop the loose top, trailing up around my shoulders in a self hug.
Too nervous. Too resistant. Too picky and too plump and too needy. Just too much.
The self hate returns. After seeing Henry and examining myself, I can't shut out the words.
I didn't used to hate myself, until someone taught me how. Staring into the mirror I don't see anyone heavy or picky or difficult. It's just… me.
Divorced me. Unfun me. The me that has one friend that I see on a regular basis, and it’s only because she self-inserted herself into my life when she noticed me at the hospital and said I looked like I was alone.
Sinking to the floor, I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. Alone Me.
And Alone Me needs to do something about Henry. Or he’ll win and steal what’s left of me.
2 Anita
It’s become a pattern to stare at my phone but not make the call. It’s the beginning of November and I know that Myla is available if I really wanted her, and Laci is home right now for some self care. I could reach out, but when I type the message or go to make the call I can’t seem to follow through.
The fear of rejection clings to me like a second skin. Underneath the anxiety, I know that my friends would accept me for me, but the spiraling thoughts in my head won’t allow me to believe that. If I let someone become close and they can’t handle what I have to say, then I’ll be an even bigger fool than I am right now.
It’s not just a matter of seeking out my friends. Henry’s recurring appearance at my front door is an issue. Watching him at my door last night, holding a key like he still belonged here, chilled me to the core.
Laci would be the best one to reach out to. She’s dating a bodyguard, and he’s got a friend who installed cameras at her place back when she needed them. Maybe I could just reach out to Emilio and skip the middleman…
But that wouldn’t work out, and I’m smart enough to know it ahead of time. Emilio might be a gigantic tattooed enigma, but he will always be more loyal to my friend than to me. I’d expect nothing less from a guy that can keep up with Laci, but he won’t be keen on keeping my secrets over keeping her happy. I know next to nothing about him, except that his father’s company works with one of the newer doctors at the hospital, but it all feels too close to home.
Keeping secrets would be so much harder if Emilio found out. Even Myla’s boyfriend David might complicate things if he got too nosy.
Or maybe I’m just paranoid.
That’s how a little bit of distance at the beginning of summer turned into months of avoiding the truth. Even two weeks post divorce, I still can’t tell my best friends I’m officially single. It doesn’t feel like an achievement, just a step backwards in my life.
It should be something to look forward to. I dropped a guy that didn’t care enough to respect me, but admitting that I’m single still hurts my heart.
It’s the second week of November by the time reality hits me. There’s no escaping this mess in my day-to-day life, and Henry’s done playing nice at work now that there’s no debate left in the divorce. I’m not budging on anything about the bedroom, the blackmail, or otherwise. This back and forth tug-of-war is my life now.
I’ve been avoiding Henry, and for the most part he doesn’t bother me at work until today. We exist in this uncomfortable silence with each other, while Remy tries his hardest to invade my bubble and remind me of that night. My friends are growing and changing, and I’m still mentally stuck in events that leave me feeling ashamed.
I want to crawl out of my skin, or scream at the top of my lungs in the middle of the ER. The divorce should be the end of things, but it’s never that simple.
Not with Henry. And never with Remy.
I’ve managed to get under Henry’s skin today. We aren’t in the same department anymore, even if I’m everyone’s favorite radiologist to work with. I usually just steer clear of him, but that’s not working out now.
He blows out a breath, annoyed. I’m not doing extra work for him just because he wants to hook up with one of the nurses. I don’t owe him anything. "Nita-”
"It's A-nita," I remind him, ignoring the wobble in my voice. I never talked back to him before, and doing it now triggers all my anxiety. "You don't get to call me that anymore."
His eyes narrow. "Maybe we should go talk-"
"I need to get back to work," I tell him, lifting my chin. People stand not so discreetly nearby, eavesdropping to find out what happened to end our marriage. Henry tried to throw me under the bus, but I have just as much blackmail over him as he does me. I don’t need everyone at my job judging my lack of bedroom experience. I try to make my voice cold, but separating my emotions was never a strong suit of mine. "Have a good day, Mr. Miller.”
