Give Me Pleasure Chapter 1 Part 1
CHAPTER 1 · PART ONE
Give Me Pleasure
Addison
When did we stop laughing together?
Our mornings used to start with stolen kisses, not distant nods or polite good mornings. Not this space between us at the dinner table that felt wider than the ocean.
I didn’t like this, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
Loving Ronald sometimes felt like trying to warm my hands on a dying flame; no matter how close I leaned, the heat was never enough. Every effort I made felt like pouring water into a sieve—nothing stayed, nothing changed.
He wanted to be promoted to head his department by the end of this year, which may have been taking his time and attention away from me.
Regardless of how hopeless it seemed, I had no option but to try. Love, after all, deserved more than surrender.
I told myself that if my love could survive his indifference, it could save us both. And if it didn’t work, then therapy would be my last card. Until then, I would keep trying my best.
The oven dinged, its sharp sound cutting through the quiet kitchen.
I grabbed a pair of mittens and opened it, the warm scent of apple pie flooding the air. The juices bubbled at the edges, drawing a satisfied hum from my lips.
Homemade apple pie was Ronald’s favorite breakfast food. And if waking early—barely before the sun—could pull a smile out of him, then it was worth it.
And no, I wasn’t doing this out of obligation because I was a homely wife, but out of a desperate hope that this small act might bring us closer.
I glanced toward the hallway, pie in hand, and called, “Honey, breakfast is ready.”
“Be right there,” he yelled. Moments later, the sound of his shoes echoed into the kitchen.
Even after all this time, I couldn’t help but admire him the way one admires a sunrise—inevitable, yet breathtaking.
Dark, short hair framed his face perfectly, a striking contrast to the warmth of his deep brown eyes that could still hold me captive.
The freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks—freckles he despised—were my favorite details. Tiny constellations I used to kiss every morning, a lifetime ago.
And those wrinkles, the ones that deepened whenever he smiled, felt like treasures to me. Etched proof of a life lived. Of moments shared. Even if they felt distant now.
Ronald kissed my cheek before whispering, “Good morning, honey.”
His tone was light, almost cheerful—a rare break from his usual hurried demeanor. He sat down and began humming softly, a tune I couldn’t place but one that filled the kitchen with unfamiliar warmth.
“Someone seems to be in a good mood this morning.”
“Mark says he wants to make an important announcement today,” he said. “I just feel good about it. You know I’m about to become the head of the department after all these years.”
“I hope everything goes well.”
“Think we should celebrate tonight?” He threw me a wink and a bright smile—one I hadn’t seen in what felt like an eternity.
That smile once made me feel like the center of his world.
“I’m all for it.”
“That’s my girl,” he said, smacking my ass as I walked past him.
See? I was right. Once all this promotion stress was behind him, my husband would return to the man I knew.
I just had to hold on a little longer.
For a while, Martha had made me afraid that he was having an affair—but I knew Ronald too well to believe that cock-and-bull story.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Make sure you wear something sexy for me.”
The mission was successful—even if he hadn’t eaten much.
As I washed the dishes, I hummed along with the birds outside and broke into a clumsy cha-cha dance.
Tonight would be perfect.
I’d make sure of it.
And for that to happen, I needed to shave. I needed a dress that would make his jaw drop.
After all, he’d asked me to look sexy.
And I wasn’t about to disappoint.