Page 7 of Her Submission (Monica & Henry #2)

The Winter Queen

Monica was the one who suggested they retire early, although most of their guests were still in the midst of their party games and not yet on their last drinks. She left it to Judith to ensure that everyone had a room for the night, particularly the VIP guests who didn’t have nearby lodging. She had also paid out bonuses to her employees to entice them to offer services for “free,”

which wasn’t just good entertainment, but good marketing. Besides, they have room in their beds for at least one or two people.

Henry laughed when she mentioned that back in her room.

“You’re so pragmatic, Princess.”

He kicked off his shoes and leaned back on the bed. Monica sat at her vanity again, this time removing her makeup and jewelry. Her jacket was on the back of her chair. A part of her wished she had been more emboldened to walk around sleeveless in her own party.

“I can’t turn it off.”

Monica sighed as she removed all her rings except for the one on her left hand. The slight tan line where her wedding ring lived was a subtle reminder of the love that claimed her ten years ago. She only took it off to have it cleaned or when she had to get her hands exceptionally dirty.

“Once my brain starts calculating the body-to-bed ratio around her, it’s always about how many are couples, how many are sober enough to drive home or have someone else to drive them home, and who definitely wants to get freaky with Sierra or Cate.”

Those two had been working the floor when Monica left with her husband. She was very aware that Henry lightly flirted with Sierra, but said nothing. If anything, Monica wanted her husband in a good mood tonight.

And Sierra knows whose husband to keep charmed around here.

She caught his gaze in the mirror.

“What?”

she asked.

Henry unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned the bottom buttons of his shirt.

“Just thinking about how beautiful you are in that dress. I think you should wear things like that more often.”

“Of course you like it. You love it when I’m as naked as possible.”

“It never gets old.”

“Well, my body will get old, so there’s that.”

“So? I’m way ahead of you.”

She chuckled and didn’t mention the light white hairs she had occasionally found on her husband’s head. Only good thing I can say about his father is that Gerald has gorgeous white hair. Monica selfishly hoped that Henry would go white. It would go so well with his complexion and those bold, blue eyes.

As for her own hair? No comment. God willing, nobody would know when she started dying it to exactly match her natural color. No visible gray until Abigail graduates from college. That was the deal she made with herself. So, another fifteen years. I’ll be in my mid-50s…

And she would still be married to Henry. Come richer or poorer, sickness and in health.

“Are you just going to sit there with your pants unzipped?”

Monica asked his reflection in the mirror.

“Or are you changing your clothes?”

“The night is young,”

he reminded her.

“We don’t have a kid to tuck in tonight.”

“What are you trying to say? That you want to make another one so we have someone to tuck in?”

She turned halfway, knees facing him while her elbow remained on her vanity.

“Or are you the one wanting some tucking in, Henry?”

“Actually, I was thinking…”

He stood up, pants still unbuckled as he came up to her and made her address her reflection.

“Of tucking you in.”

His hands slipped down her chest, grabbing both of her breasts before descending to her stomach. Monica held in giggles as her bun rubbed against Henry’s face.

“What a winning line, Mr. Warren.”

Monica leaned against his chest as it pressed up against her.

“You could charm me all over again with lines like that.”

He kissed her cheek while his weight pushed her over.

“What can I say? A party like that makes a man feel a certain way.”

She figured as much. I hoped as much. Monica’s hand lingered on his arm before he pulled away and returned to bed.

“I think about it a lot,”

he said, cutting off her romantic thoughts.

“That this was the first room we made love in.”

She grinned at her reflection.

“This was the room of many firsts, Henry.”

“I was already in love with you before I ever came in here.”

He latched onto one of the bed posts and considered the drapes hanging in front of the windows.

“But when you invited me in, it was like being granted a glimpse into your heart. I wanted to learn everything about you. From a distance, though. Didn’t want to scare you off.”

“And did you?”

“Absolutely not, Mrs. Warren.”

I’ve always loved that name.

“Do you remember our wedding night?”

“How could I forget? That was the day you told me you were pregnant.”

Yes, she had been carried away during her wedding reception. She had just found out that she was pregnant with Abigail. Ten weeks already. All the warnings to wait until the second trimester before making announcements flew from her head when she was a bride surrounded by friends. She had to tell the world.

“Yet you didn’t hold back from consummating that marriage, huh?”

“I mean, it was my wedding night. The idea was that it would be the only one.”

She slipped off her stool and stood in front of the bed, where Henry opened his legs to admit her. Her knees braced against the mattress while her hands landed on her lips.

“All I wanted that night was to feel loved and protected,” she said.

“How could you not? We were in our marital bed.”

Henry shrugged.

“If you couldn’t feel safe with me there, where could you?”

In here. This was Monica’s domain. It had existed before Henry and could exist beyond him. Divorce. Death. I’m ready. Her heart believed in eternal love, but her brain knew it to be practical. Should she suddenly find herself kicked out of Warren Manor, she could return here. Henry’s name was nowhere near the deeds. He had no personal stake in her businesses. While it helped keep certain things in their marriage clean, Monica was adamant that she have property and at least one enterprise in her name only. She had been in love and wrong before.

It could always happen again.

Her husband’s piercing blue eyes left icy adoration on her skin.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Princess?”

She slightly turned her head toward him, keeping one eye on her fantasy.

“Your wife?”

That gaze continued to kiss her.

“I see a queen in her domain.”

Her eyebrows arched.

“Is that so? I thought I was your princess?”

“Wherever we go, you’re the queen, Monica. You carry the kind of regality that isn’t taught or bred on purpose. From the moment I first saw you, even attached to that man we must not name, I saw that in you. People bow down to you. They fall to their knees to kiss your feet and ask how they can serve you. In their hearts, they do.”

“Does this include you, Mr. Warren?”

“Oh, it’s always included me. You were queen of my heart from that day, but you didn’t become the queen of my home until I convinced you to set your sights on my domain.”

“Listen to you…”

“I’m serious. Wherever we go, people love you. I’ve never met anyone who commands the respect of everyone they meet. Even in that bistro, I met you in weeks ago. Those students working the counter couldn’t stop staring at you. There’s no way they knew who you were, but it didn’t stop them from knowing you’re somebody. I bet you’ve always had that in you.”

She was probably blushing. Henry always had a way of hyping her up like she was God’s gift to mankind.

“There are more people on this planet than there are nights we’ll sleep together,”

Henry continued.

“but if I could find a way to help you meet everyone there is, I’d happily give up all those nights so you could make this world a better place.”

Monica almost didn’t know what to say.

“Are you drunk?”

She teased him, but even so, she reached behind her back and pulled the zipper of her dress down halfway.

“This is the kind of rambling a tipsy man provides, Henry.”

“Maybe I’m just tipsy enough and high on the pheromones of that party to have the courage to tell you what I’m always thinking.”

He sat up but carefully avoided touching her. Monica took that as her cue to finish unzipping her dress. Already, the high collar broke apart and the bodice loosened on her chest.

“Like that part of the reason I love you so much is because you’re such a fierce woman. You make me feel protected, and that’s no small feat.”

She slightly smiled at his vulnerability.

“I’m a believer in doing what needs to be done. Even your mother can appreciate that about me.”

“I say this with all sincerity and love in my heart.”

A finger appeared before Monica’s lips.

“Do not bring up my mother tonight. Please.”

Her face softened until he lowered his finger again. Once both of Henry’s hands were on the bed, Monica pulled down the top of her dress, revealing the simple pushup bra with straps that perfectly hid beneath a sleeveless look.

Henry’s eyes went right to her cleavage. Isn’t it something? All the horror stories she heard about men losing interest, and not once had that happened. Monica could walk around in a sports bra and hoodie, and this man would be attempting to catch glimpses of her breasts.

But she was in her element tonight. She was in her domain. There were no sports bras, no hoodies on Monica’s watch. Not in Le Chateau, where the comfiest clothes she owned were leggings and baggy cashmere sweaters.

She gently pushed Henry down and climbed on top of him.

“Bow before your queen.”

“Well…”

His hands didn’t know if they should wrap behind his head or attempt to hold on as she hiked up her skirt and rubbed her thighs against his groin.

“This is a turn of events.”

Her bra straps were too tight to lower down her arms. Monica forgot about her underwear and focused on unbuttoning Henry’s shirt, which was as soft as his skin beneath her fingers.

“Not every day I get mounted by the queen,”

Henry observed.

“You do when you talk her up so nicely.”

Slowly, Monica rotated her hips, anticipating the moment she felt her husband truly respond to her game.

Monica leaned down to kiss him, taking her sweet time now that she was the one with control. Henry was eager to touch her bare shoulders and back, but she made him wait. Down, sir. Most nights, he took what he wanted, much to her utter delight. Tonight? He was in the queen’s favored palace, wasn’t he? He could wait. A little.

Not like Monica wanted to wait too long.

“My, my.”

Henry went with putting his hands behind his head.

“So, this is the rare look into Lady Warren, the queen.”

She cleared away his belt and parted the front of his pants. I know every trick in the book, after all. Monica slipped her hand into his boxers and quickly found the half-erect shaft that he had been hiding from her. Never hides for long, does it?

“Do you have complaints?”

He was about to answer when she squeezed his base and made him close his eyes and instead let out a soft groan.

“Didn’t think so.”

Monica knew every inch of his body, much like he knew every speck of hers. They had made love countless times. Kinky. Vanilla. It’s the same to me. Sometimes, a scene quietly ended in vanilla ecstasy while the sweetest of moments blossomed into the kind of lifestyle hijinks that made even the madam blush. She may have been a woman dedicated to a life of service and submission, but she still had her moments. Like tonight, when she wanted a few minutes of lording over the man who had come into her palace and dared to tell her that he loved her.

So she knew exactly how to clutch his cock and make it spring to life. He didn’t even bother with the poker face tonight. Henry was all pleasure, little domination.

For now… Monica wasn’t green. She knew where this was going.

After she pulled her hand out of his boxers, she sat upright and rocked her hips once more. Her body brushed against his bulge until they surely felt the heat rising beneath their skin. Henry couldn’t stay silent. There was no masking his grunts or the way he moved along with her, desperate for friction.

Monica grabbed his wrists and brought his hands to her waist. There. Wasn't that easier?

As Monica picked up the pace, Henry reached behind her back and unclipped her bra. His hands cupped her breasts. His thumb circled one hard nipple before the other. The rest of his fingers splayed across her cleavage while she moved atop him. His hands weren't so big that he could envelop her entire chest, but she always liked how her breasts perfectly filled his palms.

If only we could spend every night like this.

Monica often had those fairy-tale fantasies. Wasn’t it one she had cultivated in this place, as if she deeply, intimately understood what it was like to lust for secret kisses around corners and erotic liaisons in a faraway bedroom? Like mine. This was her bedroom. Her throne room. Even now, a decade later, Henry was a guest in her domain. Everyone here knew that Monica may have married and changed her name, but this was still her mountain palace where whatever she said went. Mr. Warren was merely a special guest.

A very special guest. The only one who gets to fuck me.

Henry’s groan of approval was music to her ears when she pulled back, releasing his hard erection between them. He kept one hand on his cock and the other braced against Monica’s thigh as she reached up her skirt and pulled aside her lingerie.

She needed him. She wanted him.

Her eyes met his hungry gaze. Fuck me, Henry. Those words didn’t dare touch the air as she rubbed herself against the length of his cock. Henry did not close eyes, nor did he try to take control. You’re already in control, sir. Monica had given her body and heart to this man ten years ago. He had given her love and a daughter in return. More love. Love ten times over, for every year we’ve been together. As her opening parted over the tip of his cock and slowly took him one eager inch at a time, she shared her triumph, moaning enough to overtake his groans.

I may be yours, Henry. She stilled herself when all of him was in her, savoring it. But you’re mine, too.

One hand steadied her against his chest while the other gripped his wrist. Monica lifted herself off his cock and slammed back down again. I am my own woman, yes… but what a beautiful thing it is to share my bed with a man who loves me.

And a man who knew her so well.

His fingertips pressed against her thigh, but his thumb found her swollen clit. Yes, please, sir. Her soft moan came out in a huff as she picked up the pace and focused all of her attention on her pleasure. Why shouldn’t she? What a queen wanted, a queen procured. Like the man whom she set her sights on when he dared to express interest in her. When I was raw. When I was recovering from the worst heartbreak of my life.

What a name she had made for herself since then. And here she still was, riding her husband with the secure knowledge that no other woman had known him like this since they met. Even though her trust in him was absolute, there was always the chance that someone else might want him for themselves. Not once. Ever. Monica needed to leave her mark all over the man she had claimed as hers.

Already, she flirted with peak pleasure. Henry was relaxed and living in the moment as she did most of the work, but Monica?

Monica was taking what she needed. Every single second. Every ounce of pleasure she could squeeze out of this encounter. She held onto her climax, even as every movement sent shockwaves through her core. She would wait until she heard his pleasured grunts. She would wait until the sweat beaded his forehead. She would wait until he gave in and couldn't take anymore, or—

Henry gripped her hips.

His strong hands dug into her skin, but Monica didn’t mind.

He took control and guided her along his shaft.

Up and down. Back and forth. He used her body to reach his own pleasure, but wasn’t that the point? To use each other? They were life partners. This was just another extension of their marriage.

She pulled off him, laying against his chest while kissing his lips. As her breasts lay against his shirt, he pushed aside her hair and whispered.

“Don’t tell me you’re done already…”

“I’ve barely started, sir.”

“You’ve left your poor husband hard in the cold.”

His hips slightly shifted, his hard cock brushing against her ass.

“It should be warm, Princess. Until we can’t go anymore.”

She lightly chuckled against his cheek. As kisses lingered against his stubble, she said.

“Kindly watch where you stick that thing. My ass isn’t ready for you, I think.”

“You think? That’s something I’d think you’d know off-hand, Monica.”

Her leg swung away from him, her knees pushing against him as she knelt beside him. Before he could say anything else, Monica grabbed his cock.

“I know a few things…”

Henry released a deep, satisfying groan as she bent down and swallowed the length of his cock.

Her tongue tasted herself on his warm skin, and it delighted her, if only because it reminded her that she had marked this man tonight.

Even if she licked herself off him now.

Even if she almost choked on him when his hand grabbed her thigh and his fingers searched for her waiting pussy.

Goodness, yes… Monica fought her instinct to give in and take her pleasure in his hand.

It would distract her from sucking his cock, and that was all her oral fixation could think about right now. Yes, yes…

The way he stiffened in her mouth.

The taste of his virility as it dripped on her tongue.

The intense heat in the back of her throat and within her fist.

Even when she came up for air, tongue always on the top tip of his cock, her hand worked the rest of his shaft and encouraged her husband to think of the first time they shared this… in this room.

It was a sentimental night, after all.

Monica didn't have long to reminisce.

Henry's fingers pushed into her dripping folds and stroked the very spot that made her thighs shake.

She moaned against his cock, but that didn't stop Henry, who continued to fuck her with his fingers.

The more he turned her on, the tighter she clutched him.

Until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

Until her core pulsed harder than before.

Until every muscle in her body trembled and ached for release.

And still, she wouldn't let go.

Not yet...

Monica pulled herself off Henry's cock and sat upright, but it was too late.

He knew how close she was, so his thumb rubbed over her clit until her head tilted back.

His fingers moved faster inside her, encouraging her to give in.

And what woman wouldn't? Not Monica.

She didn't care if it gave away their game.

She closed her eyes and rode out the climax that had been building in her veins since she started grinding on his lap.

Henry could be a brute at times.

Like how his wrist powered his fingers into her, leaving her with only the ability to brace against his cock while the rest of her accepted the orgasm tearing through her as she serenely knelt on her bed and felt everything give way between her legs.

Although Henry didn’t come with her, her hand was wet – yet she knew if she tasted it on her hand, it would make him feral enough to lose it all again.

Monica slowly exhaled as her heartbeat calmed.

She opened her eyes and gazed down at Henry, who lay beneath her with one hand on his wet cock, the other splayed across his stomach.

When their eyes met, he grinned.

"You're not done already, are you?"

Her thighs still shook as she pushed against him.

“I have a feeling I don’t get a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Princess. Just say the magic word.”

She grinned through the curtain of hair that had fallen across her face.

“I don’t need to.”

Let him take me now. That was what she conveyed with the hearty yelp that echoed in the room. How else was she supposed to respond to him pushing her down onto the bed and kneeling between her legs? So quickly, too?

“Say it.”

He loomed over her, shedding his shirt and sharing with her a look of desperate, feral need.

“Beg for it, Princess. Beg for my cock.”

“Give it to me,”

she exhaled, eyes closed. His hands grabbed her breasts and her thighs raised into the air, but nothing else happened.

“Fuck me, Henry. Like you can’t stop yourself.”

“Like nobody can stop me?”

“Yes! Please! Take me!”

Her gasp ripped her in two before he had the chance to do it himself.

She fell back against the pillows when he slammed inside her. Thank God. The deep thrusting she enjoyed so much, even if she rarely requested it. Sex between them was better that way. Henry took control of her pleasure, and she took what she wanted without asking first.

He wrapped his hands around her thighs and pushed her knees toward her chest. Monica braced her feet against the bed and watched as he fucked her hard and fast.

Monica gripped the sheets and cried out. Every thrust rocked her core. She couldn't think about anything else except how good it felt to have Henry inside her again. No stress. No worry. Nothing but blissful release and satisfaction as her husband fucked her senseless and reminded her just how much they needed each other.

This was the real reason they came up here tonight. Not because of any anniversary or sentimental value. They had come back to Le Chateau because it was a place where they could indulge every whim and desire that had been building over the past two weeks. A place where they could be themselves – even crazier than the couple they indulged in back home, where Monica was as likely to be tied up to their bed as she was to be spanked before the fireplace.

The bed creaked beneath them as Henry claimed her. It's his turn, isn't it? Monica let go of the sheets and grabbed onto his forearms, holding on as he brought her closer to climax once more. The way his eyes stared into hers…

That look alone would send her over the edge. It was all she needed to close her eyes again if only to drag this out longer.

Henry's sounds matched hers. The moment her pussy clenched him harder, he picked up speed and fucked her until there was nothing left to give... until Monica begged for something else without realizing it. Something more primal, more deeply animalistic than she had thought about in a long while.

She couldn’t handle it anymore. She couldn't hold on. "Oh!"

It wasn’t the climax that sent her over the edge. It was the sensation of being filled with Henry's orgasm. He didn't last long after that, but who could blame him? The way Monica dug her nails into his skin, the way her breath hitched, the way her body tensed around him and released him all at once... he never stood a chance.

And neither did Monica. Her climax washed over her in waves. It was the kind of pleasure that made her shake from head to toe, not just in her core. This was the kind of release that made her feel like she could float off the bed. Like she could touch the ceiling without stretching her fingers.

They were both spent. Henry collapsed beside her on the bed, but they couldn't break apart. Monica kept her legs wrapped around his waist, unwilling to let him slip away.

"So," he huffed, resting his head against her. "Have I mentioned how much I love you?”

It probably took all of the strength and willpower left in him to say that.

“You may have mentioned it,”

Monica muttered.

He kissed her shoulder.

“I have high standards, you know,”

he whispered into her ear.

“I only want the best woman in the world.”

She succumbed to the strength bearing down on her. Don’t move, Henry. The way he overpowered her right now was heaven come to touch her.

“And I only want the best man.”

“Thank God we found each other, then.”

They rolled onto their sides, his body gently dislodging from hers. Monica didn’t care about the state of her dress or how she would encourage him to make love to her again once they were in the shower.

All there was in that moment was them. And she held onto it, onto the night, for as long as the moment kept her company.

So, there she was for once, not thinking about a single thing that ailed her mind.

Not even when her heart of hearts knew another shoe was about to drop.