Page 15 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

“In my hotel. I’ll be leaving in a few hours to join you in Thailand.”

He should get some sleep, just like her. Yet Monica thought nothing of that as she said.

“I need you. I wish you were on this plane with me. I want…”

Her body shivered in terrifying revelations.

“I want to get lost in you, Henry.”

He wasn’t the type to question her, be it her meaning or her conviction. He knows what I mean. And he knew what she got out of it – how much it would mean to be lost for a while.

She wanted him to swallow her whole, to use her for his ends, to make her into that fragile yet resistant woman who relied on her husband to get through these trying times. I can’t do it alone. And she couldn’t do it as long as she shook in worry from head to toe.

When she landed, everything began again. While she was on this plane, however, she could be lost in her Dom for a while longer. She would never forget why she was in the air, but she could forget her fears, anxieties, and despair.

“Do you love me?”

he asked, voice husky and strong. Like his favorite drink I make for him when he comes home. Monica slightly smiled to think of those simple times.

“I do. You’re the last man I’ll ever love.”

“I love you, too. I feel the same way about you, Princess.”

“So, you understand. What I’m asking of you.”

There was that minuscule part of her that felt guilty. Ashamed. Here she was, en route to rescue her daughter from the clutches of a madwoman, but all she could think about while trapped in a metal tube thousands of feet in the air was her husband’s touch. But there was the experienced part of her that knew this about herself. When stress was high and she couldn’t immediately take action about it, she turned to sex. For most of her adult life, there was someone there to set her at ease.

Even now, with only a phone to connect them. The power of modern science.

“Don’t you know I’m there with you right now, Princess?”

If Monica pressed her phone harder against her ear, she swore she only heard him, not the low roar of the plane engine.

“I’m in bed with you, holding you in my arms, thinking about how easy it would be to start making love to you. I know you’d let me. I don’t have to even ask when it’s you. It’s like you’re waiting for me to touch you, kiss you, do whatever I want to you while you open your legs and urge me to claim you for another night.”

The tingles in her body almost let Monica completely forget why she was on a plane. Then she thought of how her daughter had been made, mere weeks before even getting married, and her heart sank once more.

“Of course I want it,”

she urgently said back, hoping to reclaim the mood she had nearly lost.

“I always want you, Henry.”

Were there nights when she truly wasn’t in the mood and had to tell him no? Yes, but they were so few and far between, partly because Henry was so finely in tune with her soul that he knew when it wasn’t happening without asking. Monica would always give anything to be with her husband. He knew exactly what she wanted, like now, when they pretended to embrace from thousands of miles away.

Monica had never been shy about her sexuality, even before she met Henry. But their marriage had taken things to another level. With him, she was as free to be as needy and desperate in the bedroom as she wanted to be. Men like Jackson had held it over her head if she ever asked for something intimate on her terms. But Henry was the kind of Dom who took all of her requests into account and worked them into their scenes without fail. Sometimes, he set aside his own fantasies to ensure his "Princess" was satisfied as his submissive partner in all areas of life. At least, the areas that mattered least. When it came to parenting and making important financial decisions, Monica was anything but submissive. And she refused to model anything but strength and intelligence to her daughter. One day, Abby will know the truth about her parents. She would probably intuit it on her own as she came of age, but Monica knew there would come a time when she and Abigail sat down to discuss everything on her daughter's mind.

Until then, all Monica could do was indulge.

Henry loved her completely and unreservedly. He trusted her implicitly, and in return, Monica gave up control over her body and intimate thoughts to her husband. She relished the thrill of letting him take charge in the bedroom. In doing so, Monica felt free to let go of all her worries and fears, knowing that she had someone who cared for her and would do anything to keep her safe. The physical release alone was enough to relax her, but the emotional connection she shared with Henry was something else entirely.

Through their scenes, Monica found herself feeling more empowered than with other men - and women - who offered to take her soul into their hands. Her submission allowed her to explore her desires and become more confident in expressing them. And Henry, being the attentive and caring Dom he was, always made sure that Monica was comfortable and enjoying herself. Monica had never felt safer or more secure in a relationship, and it showed in the way she approached other aspects of her life. No longer did she feel anxious or unsure about her decisions, and she knew that she could trust Henry to guide her through the challenges they faced.

In this time of uncertainty, Monica knew that this would help ease her mind. It's what I need right now. I'll get no restful sleep if I'm consumed by worry. She could already hear her inner disapproving voice telling her to stop focusing on such self-indulgence and concentrate on finding Abigail, but she pushed it aside. This isn't self-indulgent. And neither is lovemaking over the phone. There was nothing wrong with seeking comfort and pleasure during trying times, and Monica knew that her bond with Henry would only make them stronger in the end.

Henry understood this, too. It wasn't just about getting distracted and giving in to their carnal desires - it was about trusting each other enough to open up and share themselves completely. As Dom and sub, they were able to communicate in ways that most couples couldn't fathom. Such as now, when Henry described putting his hand between her legs and touching her slit.

"Tell me how wet you are, Princess."

Monica sighed, pressing her thighs together to feel her skin become slick at the mere thought of him touching her. "I'm ready for you, sir."

He softly chuckled, although her inner voice knew that it was strained. He's doing this for my sake. I doubt he feels it at all. Yet Monica wanted to believe that Henry was more than just playing along - he had to get something out of this, too. "That's my good girl," he said. "You've been waiting for me to touch you all night, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir," Monica whispered, imagining his fingers tracing circles around her clit. "I need you inside me. Please..."

Her voice trailed off as she began rubbing her legs together faster, desperate for friction against her center. She could almost hear his laugh as he teased her with his words, not yet ready to give her what she wanted. He would draw this out, ensuring that Monica came hard enough to knock her out for the rest of her flight.

"Perhaps I should do something about it, then." His voice sounded husky as if he were aroused. Or maybe she was simply projecting onto him, wanting to think that he felt even a fraction of what she did. "I'm hard for you, Princess. I can't stop thinking about driving myself into you, reaching for the deepest part of you while I look into your eyes and..."

His pause gave her pause as well. "And?"

"...And I make you feel like you deserve tonight. Like you need."

That was his tacit instruction for her to go ahead and touch herself however she wanted. In this scene, Henry pretended he was there with her. Because this wasn't just about getting off. It was about freeing Monica's part of their mutual soul long enough for her to thrive for a day.

Either way, she obeyed, slipping her hand between her legs and pressing down directly on her clit. The pressure sent shockwaves through her body, making her gasp as she closed her eyes and imagined Henry's hands exploring every inch of her. She stroked her fingers up and down, enjoying the feeling of being filled by him without even penetration. Her body pulsed with pleasure as she continued to rub herself, lost in the sensation of his phantom touch.

As Monica got closer to orgasm, she gripped the edge of the bed with her free hand, pushing herself against her fingers. She could almost hear him whispering encouragement in her ear, telling her how beautiful she looked and how much he loved her. Even though he wasn't really there, she could feel him inside her, filling her with warmth and protection.

Henry always knew how to push her over the edge when she needed it most.

"Henry..." She had to snatch the phone to her ear for him to hear her.

“Let me come.”

"Not yet, Princess. I'm not ready."

Of course he wasn't. She still had a lot of time left before landing, so he planned to drag this out for as long as possible. But Monica was too close to give up now.

She stroked herself faster. As she did so, she focused on the image of Henry's face hovering above hers, watching her with the dark intensity he often exhibited while making love to her. The thought of him seeing her like this, giving into her needs and pleasuring herself while he watched... it was enough to send her over the edge.

"I told you not yet," he chastised. "I can hear you, Princess. If you come now, it won't be enough. Wait for me."

Her hand stopped, but her breaths continued to torment her. She was in the zone, spreading her legs for herself, for him, wishing he was there to drive into her like he mentioned. Please, for the love of my sanity. She'd give anything for a lot of things, like the safe return of her daughter, but right now she'd also take her husband's safe and erotic presence. Nobody knew how to save her sanity like Henry Warren, the brightest color in her rainbow.

"When will you be ready?" she desperately whispered.

"When you can wait again." His tone softened with concern. He must've heard something in her voice that indicated she was about to explode if she didn't get some relief soon. "Are you close, Princess?"

She nodded, despite his inability to see her. "Yes, sir."

"Good." He lowered his voice even further until she swore he spoke directly into her ear. "Then wait. Don't touch yourself anymore."

Monica obeyed, resting her hand at her side as she gripped the mattress tight enough to tear through the sheet.

Henry waited a moment longer, perhaps gauging Monica's ability to keep control of herself. "Service me. Tell me what you're doing to me right now. Show me how desperate you are, Monica. How badly you need me, despite me saying that you can't come yet."

It was so easy for her to imagine his face that it wasn't hard to pretend he sat beside her on the bed. Even harder to pretend he wasn't fully clothed. For Monica, who was in nothing but her nightgown, lying in the center of the plane's small bed, Henry was almost naked. In fact, the only thing he wore was his belt. And that's all I need him to wear. She imagined straddling him as she leaned forward, nuzzling her lips against his neck before whispering, "I'm grinding my bare pussy on your cock, sir. It feels so good, but it isn't enough. I want more."

"It'll have to be good enough."

"I'm pushing my hands against your chest." She closed her eyes before rolling on her stomach, turning her head as she put him on speaker phone. As the phone lay next to her, she continued, "I want to ride you. Please, let me ride you."

"No. Not yet. Take that desperation out on something else. On me."

"I'm grabbing your cock, sir. I'm using my hand to make you so hard that you can't help but need to fuck me right now."

"You know I can hold out long enough. How desperate do you get?"

She had no other choice, did she? "I'm sucking your cock now. If I can't have you in my pussy, then I'll have you in my mouth."

"Fascinating how you can talk with your mouth full of my cock."

She would have laughed under any other circumstance. "Maybe I don't have enough of it in my mouth, sir."

"Then take more," he said. "Take it all."

Monica swallowed, opening her throat as she pretended to take him deeper. If she thought about it enough, she could imagine deep-throating him, grabbing his base, and reveling in his intense taste as her tongue traced every inch of his erect cock. There was no need for finesse in her fantasy. She was capable of anything. I'm superwoman. I'm a fucking porn star. Monica was capable of some great feats in bed after decades of practice and desire taking over the best of her senses, but this was different. This was her proving a point to herself.

He grunted into the phone. Yes, Henry, join me in this moment. The next time he spoke, she expected him to sound as if he really had his cock fisted in his hand.

"Princess." He sounded like he needed to come as badly as Monica. "Make me come."

As she imagined swallowing his seed, Monica's entire body tensed up in anticipation. "I'm swallowing, sir. I'm getting it all down my throat, just like you asked me to."

He didn't say anything else. She had a feeling he'd stopped talking for the rest of this scene. Which meant she had to get creative in describing how much she wanted him and what she planned to do to him once they were together again.

"Now I'm rubbing your cock against my clit," she described, pushing two fingers against her again. "You're still hard even though you've already come." Not too farfetched from reality. They loved their marathon sessions when they could schedule the time. "God, I need you so badly." She felt empty without him. And even though she swore she tasted his seed on her tongue, she wanted more. "I'm going to ride you now, sir. I need your cock inside me. Fuck, I need it so bad."

He said nothing. That was his implicit approval.

Monica lifted her hips off the bed and rubbed herself against her hand, imagining the weight of Henry on top of her. His presence consumed her, making her feel safe and secure despite her dire situation. She knew that he would do everything to protect his family.

As she continued to describe what she was doing to Henry, Monica couldn't help but get caught up in the fantasy. She imagined his strong hands gripping her hips, his teeth biting into her neck as she fucked him back hard and fast. At that moment, nothing else mattered except being with him and sharing this intense connection. Monica had never felt closer to anyone in her life than she did with Henry at this very second. She could almost feel his breath on her skin, his lips trailing kisses along her collarbone as he thrust himself deeper inside her.

As they reached their climax together, Monica moaned loudly, arching her back as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Her entire body shook with desperate release. That was the power of fantasy, wasn't it?

When the moment passed, she collapsed on the bed, panting heavily.

Henry finally spoke again, still breathing heavily as well. "How are you feeling, Princess?"

"Better."

"Good. Now, get some sleep. You've got a long day ahead of you once you land."

She didn’t want him to leave her so soon.

“No. Stay with me for a few more minutes. Please. As if you were really here. I want to fall asleep in your arms.”

“Funny,”

he said.

“I was thinking it would be nice if you were falling asleep in my arms.”

She rolled over again, bringing the covers up against her chin.

“I love you so much. Promise me we’ll be together soon. All three of us.”

“Yes. I promise.”

She continued to lie with her phone beside her. She was silent, yet every so often she heard her husband clear his throat or say something like.

“I love you,”

or.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

Slowly, Monica closed her eyes and, lulled by the rumble of the airplane, fell asleep.

When she awoke a few hours later, the phone call had naturally ended and she needed to charge her device. She had just enough time to get back to 100% before landing. A voicemail waited for her from Henry.

“I’m about to get on our plane, Princess. The next time you see me, it will be with your daughter’s hand in ours.”

Monica didn’t cry as she thought of it. She got up, got dressed in her change of clothes, and did her makeup while staring in the bathroom mirror. The woman who got on this plane was a helpless, desperate mess. The one disembarking was a terror to unleash upon the world.

With any hope, this was the last time Isabella would face down her most derided daughter-in-law – and what a sight she would behold.