Sexy as Hell Box Set

Sexy as Hell Box Set

By Harlem Dae

Sexy as Hell Box Set - Text copyright © Harlem Dae: Lily Harlem & Natalie Dae 2013

Cover Art by
Emmy Ellis (Posh Gosh) © 2013

All Rights Reserved

The Sexy as Hell Trilogy (The Novice, The Player, The Vixen)
and spin-off secondary stories (The Mistress, The Star, The Harlequin) is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the authors’ imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae.

Warning: The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the authors’ written permission.

Table of Contents

The Novice #1

The Player #2

The Vixen #3

The Mistress – Secondary Character Spin-
Off

The Star – Secondary Character Spin-
Off

The Harlequin – Secondary Character Spin-Off

Sexy as Hell

By Harlem Dae

Book #1 in the Sexy as Hell Trilogy

London – one meeting, one month of lessons and a landslide of depraved new desires.

My journey to Hell started with a decaff coffee. Nothing more than a grey mug full of dull-brown liquid devoid of its most useful ingredient.

One sip, one smile, one touch of her hand and it was soon clear my life wasn’t destined to stay dull. Oh, no, suddenly I had a month of bedroom education planned by a sultry vixen who intended to broaden my horizons beyond my usual peach-pink palette. 

She wanted to take me to deep purples and navy blues and the pitch blackness that was pure sin. And on the other side of that blackness was a place that might look like Hell, with debauchery and wantonness, people playing devil’s advocate, luring innocents into the hotter, steamier corners of the world.

Her world.

Oh, yes, she promised each night to take me there and paint me an orange-and-red picture that would come alive, flickering like flames, enticing me, holding me spellbound and eager to learn more. To touch, explore, drown in coming.

And drown I would. I was no match for her tricks and taunts. My only chance of survival was to show her that I wasn’t vanilla. I had a rainbow of mastery up my sleeve, too, and if she just opened her eyes, she might be dazzled enough to stay—stay and take ‘my’ lessons. If she didn’t kill me first, that was, with pleasure.

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“Lick my cunt,” I said.

I wondered what Victor saw, standing there fully dressed as he was against my bedroom wall. A woman sprawled out on the bed, naked, her fingers spreading her slit apart, or me, Zara Watson, the girl he’d picked up in a coffee shop after work? Or so he’d like to think. I’d picked
him
up, but I wasn’t about to let him in on how. It had been easy, making him believe he had the gift of the gab, what it took to successfully snare a woman, but in reality I’d orchestrated every move. I doubted his ego could take the truth.

“What?” he asked, dark eyebrows going up, eyes widening.

So he wasn’t as sophisticated as he’d made out. In my experience, they were all the same. Confident and all-knowing until someone like me threw them. Came out with a simple statement that had them reeling. No idea how to claw back their self-assured air without a pause to take in what had been said. The shock of it was usually too much. Hang on, lady, you’re not meant to be saying things like that to me. It should be the other way around. I ought to be shocking you.

“You heard me,” I said, holding back a smirk. “So?”

He remained where he stood, more was the pity, and smiled, a tactic I’d seen so many times before. I‘d bet his mind was swirling, him trying to think what he could say that would get him back on top. I only wished he
would
get on top, or at least do something that would live up to the promise of his sexy words in the coffee shop. I sighed. All mouth and no trousers, that one. Shame he still had his trousers on. Black ones that matched his shirt. A grey silk tie that could be taken two ways—he was either a stuffy prig or had no choice but to wear it for his profession. And he’d told me all about that. An architect, don’t you know, well paid and with a flashy car that he’d wasted no time in describing to me. As though a hunk of metal was of interest. The only hunk I was interested in was him, and the way things were going, I wouldn’t be getting my mitts on him as quickly as I’d envisaged. Shame, because he was a great-looking guy and I wouldn’t be surprised if his body matched the aesthetic appeal of his face.

“A bit forward, aren’t you?” he said, rubbing the cute, vertical dink he had in his chin.

“Is that a problem?” I leant back, bracing myself on my hands. My breasts didn’t move. Pert things, they’d brought many a man to his knees. A pity this one wasn’t on them between my legs now, supping the cunt I’d so graciously offered.

“Well…” He frowned, seemingly at a loss on what to say.

“Well what?” I smiled inwardly. Talk about getting to him. I could almost see him trying to hold in a squirm.

“You…you didn’t seem this type when we met.” He lifted one hand, running his fingers through his floppy brown hair. Sprinkles of silver weaved through his sideburns and the wispy, longer hairs at his temple.

“And what type is that?” I was enjoying myself. Playing with men had always proved so satisfying. Though if I wasn’t careful I’d lose this one. He may still be dangling on my hook, but with enough flapping about he could get himself loose and swim away. I wasn’t sure I wanted that to happen. There was something about him that piqued my interest more than the others had.

He gestured with his opposite hand. “Look at you. Naked. You stripped before I had the chance to…”

“To what? Undress me? Seduce me? Make me in awe of your sexual prowess? Make me melt, my slit all wet, me ready to take what you wanted to give? And what would that be, I wonder? A shag, all on your terms?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but…” He sighed. It had sounded ragged, as though he’d had quite enough of me already.

Out of his depth, I thought. Many blokes were like that. Fine up until the point they had the reins snatched away. He looked down at the cream carpet, head going left to right, a very clichéd deer in the headlights, preparing to dart. He was feeling cornered, that much was evident, and I rather liked that. Was he warring with whether to tuck tail and run or stay with me? Either option might be a big old bruise on his pride. One I would enjoy prodding every so often if he took the latter choice.

“But? Haven’t you ever met anyone like me? And just what is my type? A woman who knows what she wants and asks for it? Have you always had to do all the work?” I smiled then licked my lips. “Is it difficult to do as you’re told, is that it?”

“No, I just…” He stopped messing with his hair and put both hands behind his back. “It’s just that… Jesus, you make me nervous.”

“Ah, Jesus won’t help you, and therein lies the rub. Although I wish you
would
rub.”

He widened his eyes again. “It’s you saying things like that. It isn’t right.”

“Oh, really? Says who?” I was tired of men thinking I had to be the little woman, the one who did as she was told. I was more than that, so much more, and I could dole it out much better than I could take it.

“Me,” he said, puffing out his chest. “A woman shouldn’t be so…so bloody brazen.”

I stood, hands on hips, fingers loose, red nail tips just about touching my skin. “I see. Do you want to start again, or have I frightened you for life?”

“Start again?” He tipped his head to one side. His tie swayed.

“You know, me getting dressed so you can undress me. You directing how this is meant to be—how you’d planned for it to go.” I wasn’t really in the mood to pander to his needs. I wanted sating. I wanted the urges inside me sorting out. I wanted a brutally hard fuck that left me wrung out, dripping wet, and unable to take any more. Not only that, I wanted to be in control of that fuck.

“I don’t know. I mean, you’ve kind of killed the mood now.” He had the grace to blush.

It was my turn to widen my eyes. “A woman on a bed in front of you, naked, asking you to lick her cunt, has killed the mood? I would have thought it’d have the opposite effect. Got you raring to go. Do you always have to be in control?”

“I’ve never thought about it, but it seems so, doesn’t it?” He blushed harder.

I took a step towards him. The ends of my black hair tickled the top of my arse, and I imagined him wrapping it around his fist, giving it a good yank, under my instruction, of course. “No plans to switch, then? To flip the coin and see what the other side looks like? What it feels like to be told what to do?”

“I don’t know if I could. I’m used to calling the shots in the bedroom, that’s all. All the women I’ve been with have needed coaxing. They haven’t exactly been the sexual kind, if you know what I mean. Oh, they’ve enjoyed it, but none of them were like you.”

I moved forward another step. “Don’t you feel like giving it a try? There’s so much to discover. I could teach you.”

I realised suddenly that I wanted to. Lately I’d taken to trawling coffee shops for random men, one-time shags that satisfied my urges yet left me unattached. No strings, no baggage. But Victor… Hmm, I fancied being his mentor. With winter well on the way, I could do with a project to keep me occupied. It was harder to collect men in the colder months. People tended to want to stay indoors, and damn he was a cute one. The stereotype tall, dark and handsome but with a dishevelled vulnerability about him, and his eyes, they were a piercing blue, quite startling peering through coal-black lashes.

He laughed, an unsteady chuckle. “I don’t need teaching.”

He’d sounded indignant, as if I’d had a cheek to suggest such a thing, but just from his answers, his reaction to my initial command, he had far too much to learn. He just thought he knew it all. I silently prayed he’d take me up on my offer. A little pet would be fun.

“Okay, so what about us having a bet?” I said. “I say you do need teaching, you say you don’t. I say you have a lot to learn, you say you don’t. I’ll bet that within five minutes you’ll lose. Do you like a challenge?”

“Yes, of course.”

“And do you agree that if you find you do learn something new, you’ll spend the next month exclusive to me—unless I say otherwise—and I’ll show you as much as I can during that time?”

Victor laughed again. The poor bloke really was uncomfortable. “I suppose, but I’m telling you, I know all I need to know. I haven’t had any complaints in the past.”

“But that was before you met me. I have a list of complaints regarding you already. Awkward. Novice. Unable to take a dominant woman.”

He bristled. “That’s charming, that is.”

“Isn’t it just?” I moved forward again. I could smell him now. His cologne was delicate yet expensive and settled like silk in my nostrils. “So, what do you say, Victor Partridge? Are you up for learning new things? For losing a bet?”

“I won’t lose.” He huffed as if the possibility were ridiculous.

“Was that a yes?”

He nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“Good. I’m going to enjoy this. The bet starts…now!” Stooping, and giving him an eyeful of my arse as I did so, I untangled my scarlet G-string and slipped back into it—he was watching my every move. I then walked to my wardrobe and pulled out a skin-tight black PVC dress. “Help me into this, will you?”

He frowned again. “What?”

“I don’t think you’re deaf or stupid, Victor.” I stepped into the dress and began pulling it up. “I need you to do the zip.” I piled my hair on top of my head, out of his way.

Pushing himself off the wall, he came towards me, a tad reticent, I felt.

“It wasn’t that you asked me to help you with the dress,” he said, drawing the zip up, his breath hot on the nape of my neck.

A delightful shiver snaked down my back. “What was it, then?” I wanted to turn, to press myself against him, to make him hard. To prove I was a winner. That I could reignite the mood.