Sexy
as Hell Trilogy -
The
Virgin, The Player and The Vixen
By
Harlem Dae
Sexy
as Hell is an erotic trilogy that will submerge you into the black heart of a
world of bondage and discipline, Dominance and submission, sadism and
masochism.
Dare to take this twisting
journey with Victor and you’ll learn the ropes with him, experience every
carnal sensation and fall into a dark and dangerous love that grips like a fist
and binds like a collar.
Get to know Zara, his
sultry teacher, and you’ll gasp when she doles out her sinful instructions but
then delight in the stunning results she not only demands but achieves. It
seems Heaven and Hell are not so far apart when she holds the reins.
Victor has his layers
peeled back, but when he does the same to try to get to his Vixen’s core, a
revelation appears. Because Zara is a woman whose vast sexual experience is
both her strength and her weakness; she can inflict pain and pleasure, make
lusty demands and instruct, but she needs so much more, she needs…
Yes, the time has come to
for her to admit to her needs and confess to the repairing her soul hungers
for. A sea of memories, a lifetime of control requires an acknowledgement that
will cut through her barriers, and there’s only one man up for the job—her
virgin, her student, her newly trained monster, Victor Partridge.
Please
note, in order to enjoy Victor and Zara’s adventures, the trilogy must be read
in order.
About
the Authors
Lily
Harlem and Natalie Dae have been writing together for several years on top of
their individual author projects. Their joint name is now Harlem Dae. They
enjoy being represented by traditional houses including HarperCollins and
Total-E- Bound as well self-publishing their sexy stories on Amazon. Both live
in the UK and gain great satisfaction from bouncing characters and their
raunchy antics back and forth, growing, nurturing and stoking plot lines until
they steam off the page and push boundaries. They consider themselves to be
solitary, whacky, spontaneous and desirous for many things including perfection
and are frequently caught sending messages back and forth referring to each
other as Rodney and Delboy.
About the Sexy as Hell Novels
The
Virgin – Book #1
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 was no vanilla virgin. 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.
The
Player – Book #2
Tuscany
– New lovers, new lessons and an eruption of uncontrollable lust.
The real world was working
for me, its pastel shades and straight-and-narrow route a familiar path to
tread. It suited me, this normality; it was good for me too. Or so I thought,
because the new light in my life, Catherine, was not quite fulfilling my needs.
Her lack of colour, the weak whispers of her kisses were not touching my soul
the way I’d become accustomed to. I needed more.
More of everything in my
darkly addictive rainbow; the wicked wantonness of sin, the depraved pleasure
of seedy seduction and the prism of delight I took in being struck…and of doing
the striking. I missed the fireworks, the brilliant displays of Technicolor
ecstasy that strung me out and bared me to my bones. I wanted to go there
again, and take Catherine, too, see if I could have that pyrotechnic display
with her. Did she have a riot of vibrant shades beneath her skin or was she
magnolia to the core?
My teacher, Zara, told me I
could discover her palette. That all I needed to do was show Catherine my
world, my new world, the one I’d never inhabited alone. Zara couldn’t come with
me this time, she had a new student now. I was on my own, it was down to me. Or
was it?
It seemed my teacher had
other ideas after all, and when she sashayed back into my life with her rules
and murmurs of encouragement, I had no choice but to listen to her, take her
advice, follow her lead, even though I knew nothing ever ended well with her.
But resistance was futile, my protests fell on deaf ears. But that suited my
plans, didn’t it?
The
Vixen – Book #3
Venice
– Two people, a shed load of baggage and a way forward that takes extreme to
new limits.
In an explosion of clarity,
the mist cleared and I understood what my lascivious teacher, Zara, really was
beneath the surface. I couldn’t see her beautiful core. Like a dank fog warning
off poor unfortunates who wandered her way, she wouldn’t let the darkness lift,
refused to light the way. But she gave me a key. It was small, stiff, and I was
afraid of what I’d find if I turned it. But I did. I couldn’t resist. She did
that to me.
In a tumble of truths, I
understood her bleak voids and why she filled them with sharp slicing reds and
hostile bruising purples. What had happened, what they’d done had bled her of
colour and created a woman who needed so much more and always would—for all of
time. But I could give her back that vibrancy, I was sure I could; my colours
complimented hers and I had plenty of them. My needs could switch to take her
to those grey places she needed to visit again in order to obliterate the
memories that caused her pain. In the space they’d occupied, I’d create a pile
of shimmering, perfectly cut-diamond memories, a rainbow cloud of sugar mist to
replace that dankness. I could do it; I would help her become more beautiful
than anything I’d seen before.
And within that new,
delicate ‘thing’ was us. Victor and Zara. Unconventional, extreme, romantic, we
spanned every shimmering stroke of the rainbow and all the coal-black shadows
on the way down to Hell. But together we could fight demons. I would be her
knight in shining armour even if it pushed me to the very limits of what I ever
believed I could do to a woman. And what thrilled me, was if I bared my soul,
found the courage to be a monster as well as an angel, I had a very real chance
of making her mine—or did I? Because the only thing predictable about Zara, was
that she was completely unpredictable.
Buy
Links
Author
Links
Excerpt
from The Virgin
I sighed then sipped my coffee, wondering what on earth was the matter
with me. Perhaps this game with Victor was dragging me down. If that was the
case, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I stared into space, working out what
to show him next. There were the Swedes—mustn’t forget those—but maybe they’d
be better off left for the finale. God, that would give him a last visual to
remember his time with me by. I could only hope he learned from what I was
teaching him and didn’t file it in the back of his mind. What a waste if he
didn’t use it with future women, either as a sub or having a go at domination
himself. When he’d got going last night he’d given off an unstoppable energy.
It was muted assertiveness yes, but I was pretty sure it was there.
Bile rose into my throat.
Was I coming down with something? That would be all I’d need, being sick
smack bang in the middle of a bet. I breathed deeply, waiting for a slash of
nausea to strike, but nothing came. Maybe the milk in the coffee wasn’t as
fresh as it could be. I shrugged, once again studying the men in the coffee
shop. One of them, nice-looking and hair much like Victor’s, greying a bit at
the temples but not quite as long at the back as his, was typing steadfastly on
his laptop. I wondered what he did for a living that meant he spent his coffee
break working. Or perhaps he wasn’t working at all. He might well be firing off
saucy emails to a woman who read them while frigging her clit. Would Victor be
up for something like that?
I wasn’t about to wait to find out. I reached into my bag and pulled out
my phone. Having stored his email address in my mind, I tapped the icon for my
mail app and typed it in, taking a moment to think on what to put. In the
subject line I typed CAN YOU WALK
PROPERLY TODAY? then proceeded with the main entry.
Dear Mr
Doesn’t-Know-It-All-But-Knows-A-Bit-More-Than-Before,
I hope this email finds you
in good spirits. How is your arse? Sore? I imagine it is. Mine isn’t, just in
case you were wondering. I have a blissful kind of ache going on down there,
and every time I move I think of you with your cock inside me. I have to admit,
I’m wondering how that cock would feel in my cunt again, but we have plenty of
time for me to find out, don’t we?
Now, about tonight. I doubt
your back hole is up for any more invasions just yet, so I thought us watching
a performance might be the best way to go. There’s an act you haven’t seen
yet—The Harlequin; you’ll see why when you get there—and it will show you a
thing or two.
8 o’clock sharp at Eden
Street. If you don’t turn up this time…well, it’d be pointless if you didn’t.
You know damn well I’ll only come and find you and do what I have in mind
anyway. And you’ll enjoy it, I promise.
By the way, I’m enjoying a
lovely coffee. Isn’t it about time you took a break?
I smiled as I hit SEND, imagining his mail alarm tinkling, him opening
his email browser thinking it was a client or one of his staff, only to find
little old me had barged into his inbox. I wanted to barge into his inbox for
real, but like I’d said to him, I didn’t think his arse could take another
invasion so soon.
I sipped and gazed around while waiting for his response. If he didn’t
send one immediately, then that was all right. He might be busy drawing or in a
meeting or something. I hoped he wasn’t—hoped he was at his desk, bored and
waiting for a decent distraction. Did he ever get bored at work, what with all
those important projects to be getting on with?
My phone gave a solitary blip, and I looked down to see a number one in
the corner of my mail icon. Excited, and wanting to laugh so loud it made
people stare, I opened my mail.
You are so naughty,
emailing me like this. What did I tell you last night? I’m a busy man—too busy
to be having filthy email conversations with you. Too busy to take a bloody
break.
Yes, I’ll be at Eden Street
at 8, not because you ordered me there but because I want to see The Harlequin.
I enjoy a good show—perhaps you’d like me to take you to one of my kind some
day? And yes, my arse is sore, thank you very much.
Mr
Won’t-Take-Any-More-Orders-For-The-Rest-Of-The-Day
Ha! So he wasn’t so busy that he didn’t have time to respond. And as for
not taking any more orders…he’d be taking them tonight.
Dear Mr I’m-Too-Busy-For-My-Mistress-Who-Likes-To-Put-Things-Up-My-Arse,
Thank you so much for your
prompt response, despite being a very busy man. I appreciate you finding the
time to squeeze me into your hectic schedule. I should be flattered. However,
there’s always time for a bit of slap and tickle, and I aim to show you that
all work and no play might make Victor a very dull man. And it had made you
dull, hadn’t it? Admit it. When was the last time you had fun before you met
me? Lighten up a little.
If you have a client
sitting opposite your desk—and I can’t imagine you being so rude as to write
filth to me if you did; again, not enough balls—or you have someone in your
office, or perhaps you’re in someone else’s office and answering mail on your
phone, just imagine what they’d think if they knew what we were talking about.
Don’t you think it makes for an interesting deviance from your usual boring
day? What a secret to have, sending raunchy messages to a woman when no one
else knows.
What a secret to have when
a woman emails you saying she’d like nothing more than to pay you a visit, yank
down your trousers, and stuff your very hard cock into her mouth.
And you are hard, aren’t
you?
I sent the message and smiled. I was skating on thin ice here, risking
annoying him or getting him so exasperated that the next response from him
might not be so kind. Still, it was passing the time, and I could imagine him
now, reading my message with a too-hard cock and no way to relieve it unless he
visited the bathroom and took himself in hand. If he was in a meeting, all the
better. A stiffy when sitting at a conference table could only make him want to
see me tonight all the more.
Dear
Mistress-Z-Who-Is-So-Infuriating-She-Makes-Me-Want-To-Scream,
I’m alone in my office,
trying to work, and no, that doesn’t mean you can send me more of your dirty
little messages. I really do need to get along here, and it’s all very well
saying I should have secrets and should enjoy all this email sex malarkey—and I
am in a way, I just wish you hadn’t chosen today to do it—but I have deadlines.
I don’t want to brush you
off, believe me I don’t, but in answer to your question, yes, I’m too damn hard
and it’s going to take a while for me to stop thinking about your pert little body
and concentrate on work.
Now stop it. I mean it,
just stop.
Mr
Wants-To-Fuck-Around-With-You-But-Can’t
A grin a mile wide spread across my face. That was all I’d been after,
him admitting he wanted me, giving me some assurance that he’d be at Eden
Street tonight. Oh, I knew he’d said he’d be there, but after his no-show
before, I’d had to make sure. And now I knew he wanted to fuck me, was sitting
at his desk trying to deflate his cock, I was on cloud nine.
As I was just about to hug myself in victory, the man who looked a bit
like Victor came up to my table. I stared at him, wondering what he could want,
and slid my phone back into my bag.
“May I join you?” he asked.
“If you like,” I said, giving him my best I-can-hook-you-in-a-heartbeat
smile. It felt wrong on my face, stretching it painfully, and I didn’t
understand why. “So,” I said, following my usual patter, “what brings a hunk
like you here?”
He grinned, blue eyes flashing, and placed his laptop on the table.
“Having the chance to pick up a woman like you.”
Oh, someone else who thought he should be the one to run the show. I
refrained from rolling my eyes and gave him another smile instead. Inwardly I
sighed at having to go through this again, when all I wanted was to go home and
think about tonight. I didn’t like other men encroaching on my time when I was
teaching someone else.
So why were you here the
other day then? The day Victor dropped in and caught you looking at other men?
I frowned. All right, so I was a hypocrite. I’d have to be honest with
myself—this man wasn’t floating my boat, no matter how similar to Victor he
was. No matter how attractive he was.
“I’m not here to be picked up,” I said. “I’m…well, I’m seeing someone.”
I stood and grabbed my bag, slinging the strap over my shoulder and
heading to the door without looking back. I couldn’t believe I’d said that to
him, had turned down the chance at a one-night stand come the end of the month.
But it was all I’d been able to think of to get rid of him, to make my exit appear
acceptable.
There was no other reason for saying what I had at all.
The
future…
Look out for secondary
characters in the trilogy, they all have their own sexy as hell stories to tell
and they’re coming soon! More details about The Star, The Harlequin and The
Mistress on the Harlem Dae website.
