Page 25 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

The Beginning

Monica kissed Abigail goodnight early the next week. Before departing her daughter’s room, Abigail asked if she could stay home the next day. When Monica asked why, all she got back wa.

“School is boring right now.”

The child therapist she had been seeing twice a week suggested she might go through spells where she didn’t want to go to school, particularly if she was having issues with other students. Monica decided not to push it and told her daughter they would discuss it in the morning. Abigail fell asleep quickly, and that was that.

Something else to talk to Henry about. He was at a late-night dinner with several important contacts who kept the family business afloat. Considering recent events, he was laying the charm on thick with everyone he knew. After all, not a lot of people wanted to worry about what the Warrens were up to if they didn’t have to.

She locked down the wing to everyone but Henry, who messaged he would be home within half an hour. Monica asked if he was drunk or tipsy, and he claimed neither. Excellent. Monica had something cooking up in her head and was eager to get started.

Unlike their relaxing night a few months ago, she did not prep by bathing. Instead, she went straight to taking off her usual house robe and critically examining herself in the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She was wearing nothing but a negligee beneath. One of Henry’s favorites. Yet whenever Monica slightly slouched while wearing it, her stomach pushed out and threatened the most unflattering look a woman could achieve in a simple nightgown.

“That’s all right…”

She pulled it off and tossed it aside.

“I know what to do.”

She didn’t often go for a fully erotic look, since Monica preferre.

“domestic elegance”

to looking like the kind of woman her husband kept at home for his pleasure. I must at least have some other function, right? Henry always made a silly face when Monica expressed these thoughts, but it wasn’t about him, anyway, was it?

So when she pulled on a sheer red robe that left nothing to the imagination underneath, she knew she was on to something when she looked at herself in the mirror and thought, I’d be excited to come home to this.

She brushed out her hair and washed her hands before preparing her husband’s bourbon. The ambient candles were mostly for her, though. She liked the scent of almond and vanilla as it permeated her room and reminded her of her honeymoon.

When Henry finally walked into their apartment, she called him back into their room. He didn’t hesitate to meet her back there, his tie askew, jacket off, and mouth letting out a low whistle as he took in the sight of his wife offering herself up to him in the middle of the room.

“If I had known such a delicate beauty awaited me,”

he teased, dropping his small bag onto the carpet.

“I would have left earlier.”

His grin lightened the tired demeanor he had walked in with. Monica clutched her hands behind her back, jutting out her chest. Already, her nipples were hard beneath her sheer robe as she thought about what they might do that night.

“Did you have a good dinner, sir?”

He stood up straight, picking up his bag, and placing it on the chair where it belonged. After closing the bedroom door behind him, he noticed the bourbon waiting for him on a small table by the window. He didn’t ask if it was for him, but as Monica’s gaze followed him, he said.

“I should take you next time. You’re so much more charming than me.”

He sipped his drink.

“You would have them all eating out of our hand by the end of the night.”

“Wouldn’t that make you jealous, sir?”

“Only if they flirted with you.”

Monica brushed her bangs out of her face when she turned around.

“You must be tired. Allow me to lighten your spirits.”

He looked at her warily, as if this were a trap.

“Aren’t you the tired one, Princess?”

“Trust me. Nothing would please me more tonight than ensuring a pleasant evening for you, sir.”

Henry put down his glass. “Abigail?”

“Already asleep.”

That made Henry look at his phone.

“Jesus, I had no idea it was so late already.”

She slowly approached, shoulders shimmying and lips beckoning to his.

“All the more reason for me to help you relax tonight, sir.”

She picked up the glass and stole a sip for herself. Once it was on the table, she placed her hand behind her back again.

“You do so much for this family. Let me show my appreciation.”

He cocked his head as he gazed down at her face.

“I think you’re the one doing most of the work lately, Princess.”

Would you just go along with it, Hen? Her mouth twitched as she circled her arms around his waist and invited him to touch her.

“Then allow me to feel this along with you, sir.”

She undid his belt and unbuttoned his shirt. The tie landed on the chair by the table. Every small gesture was a signal to him that she was in it for the calming ritual. This was a woman who ritualized her entire days. Why would taking off his clothes for him be any different?

He went and got the jacket he left in the living room as she gently folded up his shirt and left it on the table. When he brought back the jacket, she hung it up for him in his closet. Henry yawned behind her, summoning her to finish undressing him until he was in nothing but boxers, his pants draped over her arm.

“So, what do you think?”

He leaned his hand against the wall.

“Adonis is home.”

He’s trying to make me laugh. To make her crack. But all he would get was a small smile of acknowledgment as Monica sorted his laundry with a sway of her hips.

“Would Adonis prefer my services on the bed or in the shower?”

Finally, he dropped the boyish charm and leaned into being the man she expected when he came home.

“What do you envision, Princess?”

Lots of things.

“Whatever your heart desires, sir.”

His thumb brushed her cheek and brought her in for a tenderly brief kiss. If Monica was stirred with thoughts of him taking advantage of the situation, then how did he feel? Easy enough to behold when she glanced down at his growing erection in his boxers.

“It’s my gift to you,”

she reassured him with a sweet snap to his waistband.

“Not a chore, I assure you. Never in this marriage have I offered you something I didn’t intend to enjoy as well.”

“You are definitely something, Monica.”

He brushed her cheek again, this time swerving his hand behind her neck. She closed her eyes, lips parting as she leaned back into his grip. Yes… hold me down. Tear me apart. Use me, Henry.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to earn a wife like you, but trust me when I say I love you more than I ever thought I could love a woman.”

Her hand slipped into his boxers and stroked his shaft to life. Had Henry been hungrier that night, he would have already been inside her, Monica didn’t doubt. Those are some of my favorite nights. Experiencing his strength, his passion surrounding her as she was brought to a higher plane of sensory perception. I love it. But she also loved this. The longing. The teasing. The will-they, won’t-they.

Now that her hand was on him, though, Henry directed her toward the bed.

He urged her to keep her robe on as he lay down. Monica begged for a second as she dimmed the lights before rejoining him. Henry’s head was already in the pillow as she knelt beside him and pulled down his boxers, freeing his rigid cock.

Neither of them said anything – no requests, no demands – as she gazed into his lovely and calm blue eyes. How much of this will he remember a week from now? A month from then? A year? Would this make it into his top ten memories at the end of their long lives?

Like how much control she exerted over him by simply gripping him between her slender fingers, thumb pressing into the sensitive underside as he gasped softly. The way his jaw clenched as she quickened her pace, bringing him closer to the edge. His eyelashes fluttered as she pressed harder, feeling his arousal building within.

She had never felt so powerful before, not even when she turned the tables on the family hierarchy. Not even when she sat back and let him take charge during sex. And not even when she realized how long they had been together, doing things like this. Even when they first fell in love and the decision to continue was in her hands.

His skin was slicker and his breathing was shallow. Henry stroked his fingers against her arm. Monica only slowed down when she realized that her husband was on the verge of coming. He would have asked me to stop if that was what he wanted, though. Should she continue? Let him finish? She had hoped for something as well, but he might be too tired afterward. The goal was to rev him up to finish inside of her. That was what Monica had fantasized about all evening.

To feel that raw connection to her husband. Her Dom.

She rubbed her thumb against his precum before letting go. Henry’s head fell back against the pillow as he finally closed his eyes. Monica finished taking off his boxers and folded those up too. When she was turned around, placing them on the chest at the end of their bed, he reached his hand beneath her robe and held her ass.

“Stay there,”

he growled, his finger exploring her slit as she remained kneeling on all fours on the bed.

“Show me how much you want me, Princess.”

That finger pushed into her. Monica gasped.

“I want to feel how wet you are.”

Plenty, I’m sure. Monica braced herself on her hands as she thrust her hips back against him. Her pussy welcomed his fingers as if that had been the plan all along. Fuck, yes. Yet she kept her words to herself, lightly moaning instead.

He wasn’t out to do anything but tease her. The last thing Henry would grant her now was pleasure. So understood when he withdrew his hands from her robe and rubbed her wetness against her ass. More came, lighting her thighs on fire as Monica thought about him getting behind her and ramming into her. It would be so deliciously primal… Just like this on their bed as she struggled to remain propped up on her arms.

“My naughty princess offers such impressive services. First, she makes me comfortable.”

He hooked one of his wet fingers at her to bring her back to him. She went, eagerly.

“Then she gets me hard. Now what? What will she do next to sate that delicious pussy of hers?”

He didn’t wait for her to respond.

“Get on my face,”

Henry said.

“For being so patient, I’ll make you come right now.”

She knew her eyes whirled in his direction.

“You’ll let me ride your face, sir?”

“It’s an honor. No ‘letting’ you.”

Monica was beside him, her mouth begging to kiss him, to suck his cock, and to scream in ecstasy all at once. Well, she could do two of those things, at least.

Yet swinging her legs across her husband’s face and lowering her slit to his tongue was easier said than done. She wasn’t worried about suffocating him – they had done this before, and their height difference provided plenty of opportunities to learn – but she was worried about her feet thumping into the headboard. Even with her hands on his abdomen, she nearly shot off his face when his tongue immediately began exploring her wet depths.

“Ah!”

She hadn’t expected her clit to already be so sensitive, yet it simultaneously screamed at her to get it away from his mouth while telling her to stay right there. Monica’s eyes slammed shut to deal with the sensory overload she experienced as Henry’s hands climbed up and grabbed her breasts. Those hands were the only things keeping her from falling forward.

Which was what she wanted, really.

“Yes…”

She sat up straight, flattening her thighs against his face as his fists bunched up her robe and inadvertently pinched her nipples.

“Thank you, sir. Oh, yes!”

His tongue was so far in that she could barely see the stars spinning before her. The only time Henry dragged it back out was to lick her clit and make her cry out. It was times like these that made her wish she was the kind of dirty voyeur who recorded this shit. I want the whole world to see how my husband rewards me. A man who not only understood her need to serve and submit but worshiped the body that had aged alongside him and birthed his only child.

This… this was domestic bliss, Monica Warren style.

She was on the verge of orgasm, and he knew it. While Henry teased her, though, she broke through his hold on her chest and fell toward his hips, where she grabbed his cock and directed it right into her mouth. She slammed her pussy back against his face while hers swallowed as much of his cock as it could at that angle.

Even when climaxing, she couldn’t think of anything but sharing pleasure with him.

“Ah, fuck.”

His heavy breath against her pussy only made her hotter. Monica guided his cock down her throat, her hand working his base and urging him to come. She knew the dirtiest tricks to make him come quickly. Even against his control. She didn’t exert them often, since she was a rule-follower, not a rebel, but this was the kind of situation that made her lose her mind.

Yet Henry didn’t indulge in it. He must have had other plans for his dirty-tricking Princess, even if his whole body conspired to make him come now. For the sheer pleasure of it.

“Oh!”

The air was nearly knocked out of Monica as she was pushed off her husband and landed right on her back. Although her head nearly hung off the edge of the bed, her bare feet slamming into the pillows, Henry didn’t hesitate to climb on top and part her legs with his knees.

Fuck, yes.

His cock drove directly into her, filling her with newfound pleasure that drove her over the edge. Of course it does. He was barely inside of her, thrusting with an energy only she could have given him, and Monica was already coming again.

How could she not? This was everything she wanted. Everything she loved. Him. Their bodies. Their mutual, wordless communication conveyed everything with a few looks and the recognition of the other’s energy. He knew he could do this, just like she knew he would love this tonight. They were more sympatico than any couple she had met.

If he dies before me… There was no other. Henry would be the last man Monica knew.

She supposed she better make this count because no one knew when their time came.

She shouted her worldly pleasure as he continued to fuck her with a man’s unbridled need for his wife. The only time he slightly slowed down was to kiss her, his sweetened tongue plunging deep into her mouth and inhaling the air straight from her lungs. Monica’s world spun as she welcomed him into both ends and willed herself to be one with Henry.

I’m so owned by him. That was her favorite state of being. To have sexual pleasure on top of it only made it sweeter.

Monica couldn’t stop her body from shuddering around him. Even when he released her mouth and held her hands down by her head, driving himself into her with more purpose, she discovered that neither her mind nor her body knew how to cooperate with her heart. It yearned to slow down and draw this out longer – yet how could she, when her Dom made it clear this was happening now?

And who was she to go against him?

“Let it out,”

Henry gruffly said as sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Don’t hold back.”

He thrust into her once more, reiterating his point. “Scream.”

It was a good thing the bedroom door was locked. Because Monica’s high-pitched moans weren’t just the sounds of a woman enjoying herself with her husband – it was her signal to the world that she wasn’t going anywhere.

That same world that had tried to silence, deride, and belittle who she was could eat shit.

She had barely come down from her electric high when Henry pulled open her robe and kissed her breasts, his hips still gently rocking himself into her.

“Don’t stop,”

she meekly pleaded. He hadn’t come yet, but Monica knew he only held himself back on her account.

“Take me, please. Make me yours.”

He wrapped his tongue around one of her nipples before kissing her lips again.

“You already are,”

he grunted against her mouth.

“You were mine the moment I first saw you.”

She relented to his words, clinging her legs around his waist and refusing to let him leave her until he was good and done.

I am a conduit for your pleasure, sir. She didn’t have to say that out loud, though. Not when he got the idea loud and clear from her body clenching around his and her breath covering his face as if she exhaled paint onto a blank canvas.

She wanted his mouth on hers when he came. She wanted to swallow his voice.

With her body completely dwarfed by his and her nails clawing at his back, he came.

And Monica saw nothing but a white haven on the back of her eyelids.

They were quiet for a long time afterward, Monica wrapped around him as she drank in his scent and the familiar warmth of his skin. His fingers played with her hair as their breathing slowly matched speed until they were both half-out of consciousness.

“Do you love me?”

she softly asked.

In these moments, she did not often fish for reassurances. Henry must have sensed something, for he said.

“Of course. How could I not love the woman who gave me everything?”

“Do you mean that?”

“Monica.”

He sat up, lips briefly touching her forehead.

“Everything I’ve built these past ten years is because of you.”

She cupped her hand around his face.

“It’s mine, too. I built it, too.”

He didn’t refute that.

I burn. Henry was the first to get up, leaving her spread eagle on their bed as he started the shower and called for her to join him. She heard the sink turn on and off as he brushed his teeth. I burn bright. She stared at the ceiling. I burn hot.

Her only weakness was love. And it helped her burn brighter than the light behind her eyes.