Page 22 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

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“Monica.”

The way her husband said her name that night when she got home from work was comforting. It was also like sharp nails on the soft skin of her back.

Henry stood in the bedroom doorway, hands in his pockets and hair slightly ruffled on his head. She sat at her vanity, staring at the bags beneath her eyes and the lines on her face that told the tale of her childhood, of Jackson. No matter what skin treatments she used, she couldn’t reverse how her past left tales of trauma on her skin, like tracts of terror.

“Yes?”

she quietly asked.

He had probably rehearsed a dozen things to say. Did they race through his head now? Did he dither between which was right, which was wrong? Choose wisely, Henry. Monica was more delicate right now than she liked to admit. What her husband said would either make her cry or set her free.

“Why don’t I take care of you tonight?”

She sat up, drawing breath that told her she didn’t know if this was a trap or something sweeter.

“Is that a request, sir?”

Monica didn’t mean to sound sarcastic. But she was still thinking of Jackson, and it was how she felt about the title.

“It’s an invitation, Princess. I’ve just noticed you’ve been on edge. Still.”

“A lot is going on.”

“Hence my offering to help you forget for a while. Surely, this stress you’re still under isn’t good for you.”

Damnit, he’s going to make me cry.

Monica spent a few seconds considering the options. Yes, she would like to spend time with Henry, but she was also closed off in her world. It was far easier to stew in her panicked memories of Jackson, of losing Abigail for a week than to come to terms with what she wanted. And she had been failing in her self-imposed duties toward her Dom, who must have been upset about the lack of closeness between them. The last time they truly had a good time together was the Chateau when Abigail went missing…

Guilt. So much guilt.

Guilt about being gone long enough for Isabella to pull that stunt. Guilt toward not tending to her husband’s needs, one of the few things that gave her joy in the soul. Even if they weren’t a full-time kinky couple, Monica would feel guilty that her husband gave her that look when he brought up some intimacy and she rebuffed him.

“I’m going to draw you a bath, Princess.”

He headed toward the bathroom, hands still in his pockets.

“I expect you to come and enjoy it. Even if that’s all you do.”

She continued to fixate on her vanity, even when she heard the water burst to life in the tub and saw the reflection of her husband in her mirror. Henry took off his day clothes and changed into his pajamas, the shirt left open as he walked into the room now full of steam. Monica was biting on her nail when she realized she needed to get up and do something besides stewing in her anxiety.

So she got up and took off her pantsuit. Freeing her body of clothing helped her feel more normal. More vulnerable.

When she stepped into the bathroom doorway, she was down to her underwear. Henry sat by the tub, looking expectantly at her.

“You’re a sweet man.”

She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the carpet in the bedroom.

“I don’t deserve you, Henry Warren.”

“People don’t deserve each other if you think about it. But I like to think I deserve you, Monica Graham.”

He called her by her maiden name, a name she hadn’t gone by – personally or professionally – in ten years. How serendipitous that it coincided with her dropping her panties to the bathroom floor as she entered the room, naked.

The water was the exact temperature she always set it to for herself. The bubble bath was the moisturizing kind that smelled of cinnamon and cloves. Her hair tucked to the nape of her neck as Henry sat behind her and rubbed her shoulders the moment she was submerged.

“Does it feel nice?” he asked.

Was he talking about the bath or the way he rubbed her shoulders.

“Yes. Thank you.”

He kissed the top of her head.

“I just want you to know that I’m here. You don’t have to go through what you’re thinking about alone.”

Monica placed a hand on his and kissed his fingers.

“Are you buttering me up?”

“Maybe. But I also mean it. I love you, Princess. I want you to be the happiest woman I know.”

“What about our daughter?”

“Don’t scare me like that. She’s not old enough to be a woman yet.”

His admonishment made her laugh for the first time all day.

“So, what’s been on your mind?”

“You need to tell him.”

Ethan’s words said more than Henry’s, but Monica still couldn’t bring herself to talk about Jackson’s role in everything. She had gone so deep down the rabbit hole that she would have to start with him helping her find Abigail before she could mention Onyx Blue and Jackson’s attempt to become the dominant silent partner in her business. Never mind what happened in the Salon that day…

Could Monica go another day without bringing it up? For her sake?

“Do you remember that ballet we saw a few months ago? The one where there were twenty ballerinas on the stage at once in the finale? That’s how my brain feels right now. They’re all lined up on the stage, wearing uniform tutus, but the constant pirouetting and en pointe walking is overwhelming. I don’t know how to organize it all together right now.”

His hands slowed their massage on her shoulders.

“But you’ll tell me soon, yes?”

Such a desperate whisper broke her heart. The man loved her. Still. This gentle giant of a man would move the earth if he knew how. All for his family.

“Yes. I promise. I’ll tell you everything.”

There. She had fulfilled her promise to Ethan.

Henry kissed her again.

“You relax here. I’ll be right back. Just need to do a couple of things in the bedroom. Ah…”

“What?”

“I want you to decide. Handcuffs or spreader bar?”

Her nipples peaked in the hot water. “Both.”

Henry went into the bedroom. Monica leaned her head back against the tub and closed her eyes, attempting to be present in the moment. The same moment when her husband wanted to be her everything and nothing less.

When he returned, she didn’t know how many minutes had passed. All she knew was that she had blissed out for a precious second. As Henry sat behind her again and wordlessly touched her, eliciting a spark beneath the water as he rubbed her nipples while kissing her throat, Monica swore that she had been a fool for pushing him away.

Yes… Her response knocked around her head as her lips parted and only emitted a tiny groan of acquiescence. Monica’s hand reached up and behind her, clutching the back of Henry’s head as he grabbed her, holding her naked, wet body close to his bare chest and acting as if he were about to pull her out of the tub and have his animalistic way with her on the bathroom floor.

But he kept her there, holding her, bruising her neck with kisses that reawakened that part of her begging to be consoled by her Dom.

Take me away from this place… The thoughts in her head. The events of the day. Let her be taken care of, and let him feel grateful for the chance.

The tub was unplugged a minute later. Henry helped his wife out, wrapping a large towel around her with the intent of drying her off. Monica swayed where she stood. The heat had gotten to her, but his strength pushed her here, there, back into his arms again. She was liquid heat like the bubble bath, willing to be poured into his arms if he was willing to drink her until she was gone from this world.

She stepped into the bedroom before him. There, conspicuously placed on their bed, were the handcuffs and spreader bar.

“I want to be a team with you, Monica.”

Henry didn’t touch her as he slowly passed her, heading toward the bed.

“Me being aggressive… the dominant one… it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t give me your half. It’s what I miss most when it’s been a long while. Add on stress and what this family has been through, and all I can think about is proving to you that I’m the shelter you need. Just like you’re mine.”

She wiped bathwater from her face. The towel was still wrapped around her shoulders.

“Whatever you want, sir.”

He fluffed the bottom of her full hair as it settled on her shoulders.

“I want you, Princess. To want me.”

His finger lingered on her chin, reminding her of Jackson’s threatening touch from earlier. Yet Monica didn’t freeze up like the frightened deer she had been earlier that day. Instead, she offered Henry a longing look that conveyed her desire to believe him.

“This is me taking care of you. Everything is for you.”

“You love that about me, do you?”

she whispered.

He was only slightly taken aback.

“I love everything about you. In moments like these, though, I do love your unfettered devotion to what we have. It’s completely changed my life. I hope it has changed yours too. For the better.”

Monica turned her attention back to the implements on the bed. Freedom in restriction. She knew it well.

The towel dropped to the floor. Monica approached her husband, tugging on the elastic waistband of his pajamas and batting her lashes at him.

“I’m at your service, sir.”

He caressed her face, pushing her hair farther back.

“And I’m at yours, Princess.”

Monica waited for him to kiss her first, tilting her head back and parting her lips to accept his. As Henry crashed upon her, his tongue making love to her whole mouth, her hand continued its descent down his pants and discovered he was already waiting for her go-ahead. Slowly, the electricity flowed through her – between them. He told her to close her eyes, and she did. He told her to wait, and she did. When he blindfolded her with the tie he had left hanging over the back of a chair when he undressed, he told her to search her mind for what it wanted to see.

“Speak all you want tonight, Princess,”

he murmured in her hair, holding her against him, his erect cock pressing into the small of her back and driving her crazy.

“Let it all out. Cry in pleasure. Scream in agony. Tell me what you’re feeling. The good and the bed.”

This was his way of getting her to open up? Oh, Henry…

He led her to the bed, although she knew the way perfectly enough. Yet his doting touch, his princely help, made her smile. She crawled onto the bed, completely abiding as he cuffed her to the bed and propped her up on her knees. Monica’s head hung in the gap between their pillows. The blindfold was tightened behind her head so gravity wouldn’t pull it off. It wasn’t until her ankles were secured in the spreader bar that Henry spoke again.

“I can’t fathom how beautiful you are, sometimes.”

He rubbed her back, kneeling on the bed.

“You know, when I look at you like this, all my body can think about is fucking you. But all my heart thinks is how much I love you.”

She slightly chuckled.

“You’re full of words tonight, sir.”

“I’ve got a lot of words in me, yes. You know what else I’ve got in me?”

Of all the things she could have guessed, she went with.

“Testosterone?”

“Piss and vinegar. The same things that you do.”

He got off the bed. Monica anticipated him joining her, both on the bed and with her. With the blindfold on, strapped into one specific position, she was forced to think about what it would be like once he made love to her. How good it would feel to let go with him directing the direction of her destiny. Take me. Make me forget. Be relentless, Henry.

Remind her how much she liked it, coming from a man who loved her.

“You are power, Princess.”

His voice came from behind her.

“Everyone underestimates you. I refuse to be one of them.”

She was ready for him, but still, he hesitated.

When Henry spanked her, she shuddered.

“Tell me what you want,”

he said.

“I’m yours to command.”

She wasn’t usually the power bottom type, but considering the day she had? I’m whatever I need to be right now.

“Fuck me. Hard.”

He was happy to oblige.

There was enough give in how close she was to the headboard that she could curl her hands over her head, pulling her hair and digging her fingers into her scalp as her husband thrust into her. She held back a gasp of pleasure, chomping on her lip as she buried her face between the pillows and took his cock with no resistance.

Henry grabbed her hips and drove into her, wordless aside from his heavy groans. Monica had to force herself to not tense up and instead give in to the way he made love to her. Strong. Fervent. Intense. Even during their softest, most vanilla lovemaking, Henry was intense. Like he was out to prove how much he worshiped the ground this submissive woman walked on.

Ten years… Ten years of only knowing Henry. Ten years of him only knowing her. Their monogamy was as important to them as their need to do things like this. Often, Monica reveled in her love for the man who knew exactly what she wanted. To serve him. To be his.

What did that make her, though, really?

Here she was, unable to turn over. Unable to see the cream-colored sheets they were using that week. She couldn’t even close her legs to suck him in deeper, tighter. It was all left up to him. Taking her. Exposing her to his body as he used her to pleasure himself. Monica stifled a moan as he finally found the angle he wanted and fucked her deep, his cock barely pulling out before it slammed into her again. She was full of him, and he had his fill of her.

Eventually, he grabbed her by the shoulders, his shaft hilt deep within her as she lifted off the sheet.

“Do you like this, Princess?”

he asked with that mid-coitus growl that told her he certainly liked it.

“Do you want more?”

One of his hands quickly grabbed her hip again as he stilled within her, holding back his orgasm. Monica sensed the wave crash over him and pass. He was holding out for her.

“Yes…”

She squeezed her muscles around him, holding her within her. “More.”

This time, with both hands still holding her by the shoulders, he fucked her hard enough to make her gasp and her body scream in need of more.

Monica blinked out of present consciousness. She was still awake. She could still tell him to stop or to change tactics. But she wasn’t there. She went somewhere else. Somewhere that she would have called The Land of Dissociation in other relationships. With who? I don’t remember. But with Henry, it was a land of unbridled pleasure as she let loose the part of her that needed this. She was built for this. Everything being under her purview of experience was fine, but this? This? Monica loved that there was a man who could take her to a better, higher place than others.

Get out of my head…

Some other brute attempted to knock down the mental ward she erected against him. But she had seen his face that day. Been intimidated by his imposing stature. Harassed and insulted. Her very being coddled into nothing more than a submissive wench who was a bad example for her daughter. Could it be bad? To want this? Would people still respect her? Let alone the people she loved most?

“Tell me when to come…”

Nearly breathless, Henry slowed his thrusts as he focused more on deepening his cock inside of her.

“Tell me when to come, Princess.”

“You’re ready?”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll keep fucking you. But tell me when to come.”

With her thighs spread so wide, Monica had to work extra diligently to squeeze her inner walls on his cock.

“I’m not big with words…”

She grabbed the pillows beneath her hands to steady herself.

“Feel it for yourself.”

That meant he could come when she did. It was her pleasure first, his second.

Get out of my head!

She banished the monster who threatened to intrude upon this intimate moment with her husband, her Dom. Only Henry knew her this well. Only Henry could do this to her with the loving care that she commanded. When Monica next left this room, marked and claimed once again by her needy husband, it was with the understanding that she had control over all of it. She wasn’t a power-bottom.

But she was powerful.

Here I come…

She had been on the precipice for a minute, but now she flung herself into it. And the floodgates her orgasm opened unleashed everything else pent up inside of her.

The guilt.

The rage.

She screamed with the fury of a woman who had been wronged more than once in her life. How dare anyone tell me who to be. She slammed her forearms on the bed and hung her head, panting in carnal relief. How dare anyone try to tear me down. Her legs attempted to shoot behind her, but the spreader bar was too heavy. How dare this world test me so fucking much. Her voice reached a feverous pitch as Henry pulled her hips toward him, his cock buried deep in her and filling her with his seed.

He stayed still, but she continued to fuck his still-rigid cock, another orgasm already tearing her apart.

This time, she thought nothing. She only experienced the here and now.

Her voice was hoarse when she finally relented. Henry rubbed her back, still inside her, although he had gone soft.

Minute by minute, she was freed from her restraints. Monica fell to the bed and closed her legs once the spreader bar was gone. Happily, she fell back into Henry’s arms as he held her close and removed her blindfold. She didn’t bother to open her eyes.

“It’s weird.”

That was the first thing Henry said after they held each other for a while, Monica’s cheek glued to his chest as she decided the best aftercare was soft touches and gentle caresses.

“I blindfold you to enhance your experience, but I often feel like I should be the one blindfolded.”

She slightly lifted her head in inquiry.

“Because you’re so shockingly beautiful,”

he explained.

“I go blind when I look at you.”

He said it with the right amount of humility to sound genuine. Then again, Henry was not a man who merely said things. He meant every word that came out of his mouth.

“I think everyone goes blind looking at you, Monica.”

His fingers danced on top of her scalp before his whole hand fell to her arm.

“That’s the only explanation I have for how some turn their faces away when you walk into a room.”

It was the kind of thing that made her think, even when she didn’t want to. Yet there she was, in bed with her husband, wondering what it would be like to have another baby. Don’t be silly. She was one and done. Monica was sterilized, even.

But she loved the idea of making her family even stronger. It was one of the easiest ways to exert the power this man saw so inherently within her.