Sexy Just Walked Into Town Read online

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  My silver fox had a dominant streak and it wasn’t a feeble thread, either. By the look on his face, it was a goddamn thick wedge that ran right through to his core.

  “I need to go there,” I said. “But…” It had been a long time since I’d subbed, and then it had been to someone who I knew more about than just their fake name and their penchant for dolls—not that that had given me any advantage.

  He swept his lips over mine. Not a true kiss, just a breeze of mouths passing.

  “Tell me?” he whispered. “What are you afraid of? I can see that there is something in your pretty eyes.”

  I’d rested my hands on his shoulders as he’d pulled me close with the chain, and now I curled my fingers over them, letting the heat from his skin penetrate my palms.

  “So much,” I said. “But at the same time, nothing at all. I’m not afraid with you.” I let out a small giggle that turned into a groan as my nipples were tortured by the clamps being shifted over his chest.

  A frown line on his brow softened. “You have nothing to be afraid of with me,” he said. “I know we’re not exactly your average couple, but I can assure you that you are my world. In here…” He paused and glanced around the room. “Here and now, you are my everything. Your happiness, pleasure, and safety are all that I’m thinking about.” He took one of my plaits in his hand and rolled the end, where the hair was loose, between his thumb and index finger. “And if someone, from your past, didn’t make all of those things his priority, I’m truly sorry.”

  Fuck! How could he know that? Had he guessed? Was I such an open book? Jeremy had been a total shit. His idea of being a Dom was to be a bully.

  “Shh…” Mr Kennett said. “It’s okay.”

  I hadn’t realised that a tremble had run up my spine. I must have shaken within his arms.

  He smiled as he stroked his hand down my back, soothing that shake away. “Shh…” he said again. “I’ve got you. Don’t think of bad times, only now, because this is good times, Vicky, good times.”

  Oh, the way he spoke, posh-like, with vowels all round and full, and he’d said my name in a slow, unhurried fashion, like savouring the syllables.

  I pushed thoughts of Jeremy from my mind. He didn’t belong in this room. He’d done his damage, it was time to heal.

  Mr Kennett pulled back, and I missed his warmth and his hard body slotted alongside mine.

  “The safeword is London, okay?” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “Now, please, take off your clothes so I can start worshipping your delectable body.” He removed the chains from his clamps so that they hung heavy and long from mine.

  I hurried to do as he’d asked, shimmying out of my dress and tossing it aside. I then rolled down my knickers and kicked them beneath the table.

  “No,” he said. “Not the socks.”

  I paused and looked at him, the discomfort in my nipples simmering nicely in my half-stooped position.

  “Allow me one reminder of the doll,” he said, reaching for my bag. “I like the socks, a lot.”

  He held my bag up. The open zip gaped, and his bicep tensed under the weight. I had a lot of stuff in there.

  “May I?” he asked.

  “Be my guest.” I paused. “Sir.”

  His mouth twitched at that, then he delved into the bag, staring upwards while he fumbled inside. “What’s that?” he asked, his attention settling on something above us.

  I knew without looking what he’d referred to. A metal bar, about a metre long, was pulled close to the ceiling, secured there by thick chains either end. A rope pulley was attached to the wall, coiled round a black holder to keep the bar up high while not in use.

  “Want me to show you?” I asked.

  He nodded, hand still inside my bag, and I walked to the wall and unwound the rope. I lowered the device to my belly height then secured the rope around the holder again. I pushed on the bar to make sure it was safe.

  “You hold it like this,” I said, gripping the bar. “Making sure to hold it steady because it can swing. And you stick your arse out so…well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “So you can be spanked or taken from behind.” He stared into my bag. “Are you willing?”

  I was—yes, I fucking well was. I got myself into position—bent over, arse out, legs spread wide—and waited for him to find what he needed. A condom. My stomach clenched with my excitement. He dropped my bag onto the sofa then rolled the rubber onto his impressive dick, coming to stand behind me.

  “I can see your cunt lips opening,” he said.

  What he’d said had startled me a bit. I hadn’t expected him to say such a thing. His words excited me further, along with the idea that there was more to him than I’d first thought. Did he like to talk dirty in that posh voice of his? It was one of my favourite things, and to find a man who also enjoyed it…

  Oh, God, I’ve hit the sodding jackpot.

  “Talk to me,” I said. “Say whatever you want.”

  He placed his hands on my waist, drew closer, his body heat warming my behind. I resisted shoving back into him. The image of his cock sprang to mind, and from the width of it I knew I’d be stretched so much I might have to clench my teeth.

  “I’m going to fuck that cunt of yours so hard,” he said.

  Oh… “So do it. Do it now, Sir. Please, just do it.”

  The thought of what I looked like, makeup wrecked, had me feeling all kinds of slut—and I loved that. No more pretty little dolly tonight. My layers had been peeled back. I’d removed my mask. He was seeing me, and for the first time in a while I was happy with that.

  He surged in quickly. His speed had me sucking in a sharp breath.

  I revelled in the heat of ecstasy spreading through my cunt. “Oh, oh, oh, that’s so—”

  “—fucking hot. Yes, so hot…wet…”

  He moved one hand to take hold of my plaits, yanking my head back so he could kiss my cheek. God, my scalp burned—burned so much my eyes watered. I eased my head forward a bit so it hurt even more while he continued to pull. As he withdrew, leaving only his tip inside, he reached beneath me with his other hand, gathered the dangling clamp chains and drew them down. I tightened my grip on the bar, clenched my teeth, and groaned so loud my throat swelled.

  “You’re a dirty dolly,” he said, shunting in and out of me. “My dirty dolly. Oh, yes. You’re so damn tight. So fucking wet.”

  I closed my eyes. All the parts of my body that were feeling the strain—my tits, my hole, my head—seemed to radiate with pleasure-pain. If I didn’t have to hold onto the bar with both hands to stop if from swinging wildly I would have slapped my thigh, whacking myself so hard that my knees gave way. The thought of that had my clit bobbing.

  “Put the chains in my mouth, Sir,” I said. “Then you can touch my clit. I need you to frig me off.”

  He did as he’d been told, and I held the chains between my teeth. As he pulled my head back again, my tits were lifted. And oh, God, the pain on my already abused nipples was sublime. I keened, staring at the ceiling. With him ramming into me the bar jostled, and then he cupped my needy pussy. Just that alone started my orgasm off.

  “More,” I mumbled around the chains.

  “Oh, I’ll give you more, you sexy little bitch.”

  “Bitch…yes, your bitch…”

  “I want you as mine—just mine, do you understand?”

  “Yes!”

  “Leave this place and come with me. Then you’ll be treated to more of this…”

  He rubbed my clit almost savagely, using what felt like four fingers flattened against the area. Bliss uncoiled further at a speed I hadn’t anticipated, shocking me with its intensity. Everything seemed to explode at once, sensations flooding my body from all the points pain was being applied. I let out a whine of what sounded like frustration, but it wasn’t that. No, I was overwhelmed with everything going on and needed to sink into it, to just let it happen.

&nbs
p; “Mr Kennett,” I shouted. “Mr Kennett…Mr Kennett…ah…”

  I relaxed, and there it was, that massive rush of pleasure ripping through me. I went lightheaded and almost let go of the bar, wanting to drop to my knees so he could fuck me into oblivion.

  “Christ,” he ground out. “Christ, this is intense.”

  His cock thickened, pulsed, then he released a succession of feral grunts. The sound of them added to the rawness of what we were doing, and a new swathe of bliss arced through my body. I was a mass of pinging nerves, panting, seeing us in my head, the visual sexy as hell. The heat of his cum penetrated the condom. He sped up, his in-and-outs so quick. The pressure he was applying to my clit sent me from this external orgasm into another, while the internal one still raged. I whimpered, wrung out yet wanting so much more. My nipples numbed, so I let the chains fall from my mouth. He relaxed his hold on my plaits, eased off on my clit, slowing so the aftershocks weren’t severe.

  He stopped fucking me, sliding his hands up my belly to my tits. Without warning, he removed the clamps then pressed is palms to my breasts, suffocating the pain and whispering, “I’ve got this. Got you. Breathe. That’s it, breathe.”

  I sagged against him, his cock still pulsing inside me, and wondered how I’d managed to get this far in life without ever fucking like that before. I turned to face him, suddenly in need of intimacy, and realised I wanted a hug, a kiss. He took me in his arms, enfolding me in an embrace that felt so right I could have cried.

  “There, my beautiful woman,” he said, stroking my back. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

  I lifted my face, looked at his, and leaned forward.

  That kiss…that kiss sealed my fate.

  No getting romantically involved with the customers—staff rule number one.

  If Mr Kennett wanted me as his personal doll, then that’s what he’d get. The way he looked at me now, the way he held me…I didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second.

  And I didn’t doubt that this would be one of my last nights as a public Domme. A new time had dawned. My awareness of how I could be loved, adored, and treated to such fine fucks by this man had reached high levels.

  “Rule number one?” I said.

  “Can go to hell,” he answered. “It doesn’t apply to us anymore.”

  *****

  More about Harlem Dae

  Harlem Dae is the pen name of two authors—Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae. They have been writing together for several years on top of their individual author projects and enjoy being represented by traditional houses including HarperCollins and Totally Bound as well as self-publishing their sexy stories on Amazon.

  The Novice, Anything for Him and Good Cop, Bad Cop have all recently claimed the #1 spot on the Amazon Erotica chart and with the popularity of the newly released Sexy as Hell Trilogy it looks like the future is going to be another wild ride of success for Harlem Dae.

  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. 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.

  Links

  Website: http://www.harlemdae.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/NatalieDaeandLilyHarlem

  Magazine: http://www.harlemdae.com/p/sexy-as-hell-newsletter.html

  Praise for Harlem Dae

  Sexy as Hell – “The best erotic trilogy I have ever read! FSOG and Crossfire series have nothing on these books. If you like your books a bit edgier then you should read these. Lots and lots of hot sex but also a love story. Read and enjoy!”

  Good Cop, Bad Cop – “OMG! This book by Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae was amazingly hot! I do love a good ménage story and this had everything I liked in it. Oh my, the three of them together in the villa - hot off the charts. I highly recommend this book for the little ménage freak in you.”

  That Filthy Book – “I recommend that every woman read this book, because unless you experience it for yourself, I am not sure I can convey the emotion this book evokes. Read the book. You won't be disappointed.”

  Figment

  By Natalie Dae

  I need a woman who wants me to fuck her until she thinks she’s going to fall apart. I need a woman who wants me as much as I want her. I need…her.

  In the murk of his bedroom—just a small nightlight glowing on his bedside cabinet—Will stared at the grey, shimmering shape in front of him. He shivered, anticipating its manifestation into the woman who’d visited him nightly for God knew how long. Time was a blur. She had remained a shape at first, then, over the nights that followed, showed herself more and more. He knew why he hadn’t been able to see all of her—she wasn’t real, wasn’t firm enough in his mind for him to bring her into proper focus. In short, he didn’t know what he wanted, wasn’t sure who his perfect partner would be, and he needed to know in order for her to exist. He was nearly there, though. The previous evening she’d almost revealed her whole self, from her naked, hour-glass figure to her long, blue-tinted black hair, but her face was still a mystery.

  Nude beneath the sheets, he let out a laboured breath, staring at the foot of his bed and willing her to change. To speak. If she did he’d be lucky. No woman had spoken to him in that way for months. And that was what he wanted—a woman to encourage him out of his shell with filthy words that inspired his cock to harden, had him reciprocating, getting her wet and wanting. Yet he didn’t have the courage to return those words—he knew he wouldn’t, that if a woman approached him and whispered the things he imagined she might, he’d stall, become more introverted. She was a figment of his imagination, nothing more, borne of loneliness and the need to share his life with someone.

  How had it come to this…this woman of his dreams plaguing his nights?

  He knew only too well. Leading a solitary life was a killer.

  There, a sparkle of her outline, an aura that lit her up, then she filled herself in, much like the hour glass she was, the sand growing from the bottom up until she became full. At last, her face was clear, one of staggering beauty that had him realising he’d known her all along in his subconscious. A breeze through his open window fluttered her hair, streaming it out to one side, showcasing a dainty chin and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Startling green eyes seemed to light for a moment before dousing—I imagined that; no one’s eyes glow like that—and she curved her full, rose-pink lips into a slightly parted smile.

  Christ, she’s so fucking beautiful…

  That was the problem. He’d created a woman who didn’t exist. He’d made her ideal, while he was far from that. He needed to have his hair cut—it had grown long and unkempt since…well, since the other her had been in his life—and he’d allowed his stubble to grow into something more than a speckle of five o’clock shadow.

  He wondered if he was going crazy, holed up as he was each evening after work and only going out every so often at weekends. Whether he’d created his perfect woman so he could feel less alone, less of a… failure. Since his last relationship had withered, he’d lacked the self-confidence to go out and find a new lover, someone to laugh with, be with. Someone to sit beside and not have to say a word to. A woman who just knew him. Instead, he’d concentrated on working out, his muscles so defined now, the skin covering them untouched by feminine hands.

  “What do you want?” she asked, her voice reedy, as though she hadn’t quite been able to completely arrive.

  I should be asking her that question.

  “I—” If he spoke to her, it would mean acknowledging her existence, acknowledging that he saw her or, frighteningly, admitting he thought she was real—or that he was so stuck in this dream, this… whatever-the-hell it was, that having a conversation with her was normal. It wasn’t, damned well wasn’t, but he knew he’d
speak to her all the same.

  “You… what?” she whispered, moving closer to the bed and placing her hands on the mattress, leaning forward to show off her cleavage.

  “I… What do you want?” Turning the question around would buy him time and, perhaps, give him information about her that would solve it once and for all—either she was here or he was mad.

  I know the answer to that one…

  “I want whatever you want,” she said. “I know what that is, but you have to tell me, otherwise it won’t…” She glanced to her right at the window, narrowing her eyes at something he couldn’t see.

  The breeze had picked up, lifting the heavy drapes as if they weighed nothing. The air chilled, reminding him of winter mornings with sparkling frost on the ground and skeletal tree branches stretching to touch the lower belly of the gloomy sky. He rubbed his arms and chuckled at the absurdity of what was going on—full-on mental, that’s what he was, believing this kind of thing happened.

  His breath misted as it left his mouth. That sobered him.

  “Won’t what?” he asked, staring at her profile.

  Her skin, creamy and so soft. Her hair, so long, so silky. Her lips…

  He imagined them as a perfect “O” circling his cock and gasped at the realness of the image in his mind. He felt, goddamn felt the heat of her tongue, his tip touching the back of her throat, his cum barrelling out of him, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked him hard and swallowed everything he gave her.

  What the hell?