Sexy as Hell Box Set (110 page)

My mouth watered. I wanted to run my hands over that arse. Taste it, too, explore every inch of her as she writhed in ecstasy calling my name.

She opened a door to a bedroom. Her bedroom, I presumed, since she lived alone and it smelt of her. The walls were a deep rust colour, the carpet pale silvery grey, the blankets on the huge bed white and stark.

“Mason,” she said, shutting the door behind me. “I’ll be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve been with a man.”

“Why?” I reached for her, slipped my arms around her waist, and spoke onto her lips. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Because they usually disappoint me. They can walk the walk, talk the talk, but when it comes to pushing through that last barrier, they crumble.”

“I won’t, I promise.” I slid my fingers beneath the base of her top, in the small of her back. “I’ve seen you, remember. I know you.”

“I hope so.” She pressed her lips to mine and poked her tongue into my mouth.

I opened up and took the kiss to a higher level. I could hardly believe this was finally happening. After so many fantasies, so many days, weeks of longing, I had her, in my arms.

I raised her top, and we broke the kiss so I could slip it over her head. I dropped it to the floor, forgotten, and looked at her small, pert breasts. I’d seen them many times during shows, but this was different. This was just for me; there was no one else admiring her pretty curves, small pink nipples, and the fading red marks of her earlier self-flagellating. Only me.

“Turn around,” I whispered. “Take off your jeans too.”

She swallowed. I heard the small sound. Then she did as I’d asked.

Seconds later, she stood before me, naked, her narrow, marked back right there for me to admire. I feathered my fingers over the criss-cross of scars, tracing them as lightly as a butterfly’s wings might.

“So pretty,” I said, in awe of all the scores that signified her journeys to bliss and back.

She dropped her head a little and sighed.

Pushing her hair over her shoulders so my view was uninterrupted, I bent and kissed down her vertebrae. Every now and then the unevenness of her skin was vaguely evident on my lips. When I reached her arse, I continued to kiss and adore her with my mouth. I nudged her legs apart and slipped my fingers through her soft folds.

She shuddered at my touch, and a breeze of a moan left her.

“I want to do this right now,” I murmured then took a pinch of her buttock between my teeth. I bit, not really hard, but enough so that she’d get a sting.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, fuck, I want you to do it.”

Her pussy was wet and warm, and I delved further into her slit. I wanted to go fast and furious. Bend her over and fuck her while I took in the beauty of her body, but I knew that wouldn’t work for her. That wasn’t what she wanted and would guarantee in her mind that I was a one-night stand.

The last thing I wanted to be.

“Where is the…?”

“In the cupboard on the right. You choose.”

Reluctantly, I left her and moved to the cupboard. Opening the door, I whistled under my breath. She had quite a collection of pain implements.

Floggers, whips, cat-o’-nine-tails, clamps, suction cups, vampire gloves, and several things I had no name for but that looked pretty intense.

But I’d been trained how to handle a whip, so I took out a particularly short one with a braided brown handle that reminded me of crocodile skin. The business end was made of pliable leather, and when I gave it a couple of practice cracks in the air I was satisfied with the weight and slickness of it.

“I want you on the bed,” I said. “On hands and knees.”

Quickly, she scrabbled to obey me. She was breathing rapidly, her ribs expanding and contracting every second. Clearly my choice had appealed to her, and the movement of air caused by my practice strokes had heightened her anticipation.

“We’re going to start just as soon as you tell me what you’re safe word is,” I said, moving behind her and once again stroking her buttocks and down to her pussy.

“Ah, yes…it’s apricot jam,” she said.

“Apricot jam, okay.”

Honey would have suited her better. The sweetly scented nectar running from her pussy onto my fingers was amazing.

Again I tested out the whip, measuring the length of it against her stooped body. I was glad I’d gone for the shortest one. At this angle I could continue to finger her at the same time as licking the top of her shoulders and between her shoulder blades with the whip.

I struck out. Hit her vertically

She gasped and jerked, her hair swinging over her shoulders. “Yes,” she hissed. “That’s it.”

Her pussy squeezed my fingers, and I struck again, my cock going to full hardness in my jeans. She dropped her head and moaned, a deep, guttural sound that made my belly clench with longing.

“You like this?” I asked, sending three swift strokes to her back and marvelling at how the skin blanched and then rushed to scarlet in a matter of seconds.

“Don’t stop, oh, Mason, that’s it, keep on like that…”

“I’m going to fuck you too, okay?”

“Yes.”

“But not until you beg for it.”

“Oh, God…”

I was in the swing of it now. I had a routine going, flicking and flacking, striking in perfect straight lines. Blushing her skin with the whip. She twitched beneath me, arched her back feline-like and pushed her pelvis onto my hand.

I felt for the pulpy spot deep inside her that I knew would send her on her way to coming. Massaged it with a determined strokes and felt her pussy cream all the more.

Damn, I was so hard. So hard I was in danger of cutting off the blood supply to my cock if I didn’t release the zipper on my jeans soon.

Without pausing in my flogging, I withdrew from her pussy then tugged out my engorged dick. I was so hot and hard; just my own touch had me in danger of coming.

Catapulting Julie to the heavenly place she loved existing in was the biggest turn on of my life. I’d known it would be. Wouldn’t have wanted to be in this moment with anyone else. There was only her.

I paused, dug out a condom then rolled it on.

She whimpered in complaint.

“Shh, just protecting us both,” I said, reaching once more for the whip.

“Oh, please, yes, fuck me. I’m there, I’m floating. I’m on fire yet ice cold, every part of me aching for you to continue, to stop. To take me to the edge and push me right over.”

“And then…” I struck her again. “I’ll catch you.”

Quickly, I positioned my cock at her sopping entrance. Timed my forge to balls-deep with another brutal strike.

We both cried out, bliss and agony swirling together in an enchanting melody.

Through the fog of my lust I continued to flay her. Take it to the level she craved yet no one else could join her on.

She was humping my cock, squirming for the whip. I, too, was on fire yet ice chilled my veins. This was like nothing I’d ever experienced. Hot pussy, the hurricane of air caused by the whip, the cleansing of the cold that calmed yet excited me.

“Oh, fuck, come, come, my love, now!” I ordered.

I couldn’t hold off much longer. And it seemed neither could she.

In a wild ride to satisfaction, we banged against each other, me forwards and her backwards. Shouted out our needs for more, harder, faster and then, in a spin of ecstasy we both toppled over the edge.

Julie froze, as she always did at that moment, as if any movement might distract her from the pinnacle of pleasure. But I kept on fucking, brute strength and an almost violent passion claiming my actions.

I dumped my cum into the condom, deep inside her cunt. “Yes, yes, fuck it. You’re mine.”

The whip fell to the floor. I gripped her hips and stilled as another pulse of cum burst from me. I was dizzy, struggling to breathe, and the room seemed to be swaying yet I was anchored. Anchored by Julie, my cock in her pussy holding me straight.

“Oh, oh, Mason…fucking hell.” Her elbows gave way, and she sank to the bed, arse in the air.

I withdrew, tried to focus properly, and dragged in a deep breath.

Hurriedly, I disposed of the condom and then, keen to keep my word about catching her, I gathered her small, hot and trembling body into my arms.

She fitted so well against me, her breasts to my chest, her head tucked beneath my chin, and our legs entwined. I felt as though finally I’d found someone who matched me. It had taken a long time, and a lot of soul searching before I’d been brave enough to see if we fitted. But thank goodness I’d taken the plunge. Had dared to take the risk.

I stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head, and wondered if her heart was pounding as furiously as mine.

“Are you okay?” I asked, still breathless.

She nodded, her cheek rubbing my chest.

“That was…” I said. “For me, that was perfect. Everything and more I’d dreamed of.”

She pressed her fingers over my nipple. I didn’t think she’d speak. That she was too high on endorphins or exhausted to reply, but then, “It was perfect for me too.”

A glut of relief rushed through me. “Really?”

She tipped her head to look at me. “Yes, really. You
got
it.”

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

She smiled lazily. “Yes, the pain isn’t foreplay for me, it’s part of the fucking, the climax, I need it with me to the end. You stayed with me.”

“I had no intention of leaving you.” I lifted my head, kissed the tip of her nose. “And for the record, that applies to us, here, now. I have no intention of leaving you.”

“Well, I was hoping you’d stay the night.”

“Of course I will.” I smiled. “But I mean in life, tomorrow, the next day. I want us to be together, Julie. We’d make each other happy. I know we would.”

“But your next film. In America?”

I huffed. “It’s a three-month shoot. Come with me. I’ve rented this ranch house, really quaint and quiet. We could spend time together there.”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s stopping you?”

She sighed. “Work, I suppose.”

“Can you do work for the Salvation Army online or something? While I’m shooting in the day you could continue to support them yet be there in the evening when I get back.”

She frowned, and a fear that I’d asked too much of her pinched my guts. I’d got heavy, greedy too quickly. Would she turn me away? Literally kick me out of her bed?

“I think…” she said. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

By Harlem Dae

A Spin-off Short Story from the Sexy as Hell Trilogy

Marti, who features in The Harlequin, is a character in book #1 of the Sexy as Hell Trilogy. Because of his unusual lifestyle, flamboyant appearance and daring act at Eden Street, Marti really deserved his own book, not least because in part he was responsible for Victor (the hero in The Novice) finding his own inner beast and releasing his animalistic passion on a very delighted Zara.

Marti shares his life with Joel, the only man who has accepted Marti for exactly who he is—a guy with male and female parts. Although they are in love, they do like to dabble in threesomes from time to time. When Marti’s snake, Rio, becomes ill, a visit to the vet gives them more than just antibiotics for the snake…

“That fat cock of yours will be the death of me,” Joel said.

I turned from tending to my beloved snake, Rio, in his large glass aquarium and looked at a naked Joel, who was sprawled out on the sofa in our living room, still smiling from the fuck we’d just had. He was the first man who’d stuck around after seeing I had tits as well as what he always called a fat cock. The first man who hadn’t blanched at the sight of me letting my other, plastic snake curl around my cock. He’d also been blasé about what I did for a living, as though it wasn’t a concern. And it wasn’t, not in my eyes anyway. Performing sex acts in front of the audiences in Eden Street, and now in Sexy as Hell, was my bread and butter. My life. Apart from Joel.

I clos
ed the lid of the aquarium then made sure the temperature was set just right. Rio had been lethargic, and I wasn’t sure why. He also hadn’t eaten yesterday and usually he was eager for his twice-weekly mouse feed.

I pushed the worry from my mind, turned to Joel. “I doubt my cock will be the death of you
,” I said. “You ask for it to be shoved inside you more than the average man would—and that’s saying something.”

Joel laughed. “But you love that. Love the fact that I can’t get enough of it. Of you.”

I walked across the room to sit beside him. My shirt clung to my skin, which was still sweaty, but thankfully air circulated around my bare lower half. I sat, leaned against him, my head on his shoulder. My hair drifted over his skin, and my cock rested heavily on my thigh. “And my tits. You love them too.”

“Fuck, yeah. What’s not to love? A
beautiful man with tits
and
a cock. Fuck me blind.”

“I thought I just had.”

He laughed again, and I smiled. How lucky had I got with him? Fucking lucky. After coming out to my parents—Dick Branston and his alluring, perfect wife, don’t you know—then being cast out of their lives, I’d told myself I could go it alone. Without Branston’s money. Without getting what I wanted by telling people who my father was. Without love and support. Then again, I hadn’t really had much of the latter anyway, what with my father chasing his dream to become the man who owned as much of everything as he bloody well could. Having a bent son was something he couldn’t control—yet he still had. Disowning me had seen to that.

“I like it when you laugh,” I said. “Makes me happy.”

“Good. Then my work here is done.”

My stomach knotted, as it always did when he made off-the-cuff remarks like that. I always thought he meant it was the end, that he’d leave and never come back now he’d set me on the right track. Of course, he never left, but my love for him, the way he made me feel, had become so important to me that I couldn’t imagine being without him. How the hell I’d survived before he’d come along was a mystery. Stumbling from one anonymous fuck to the next in a haze of unhappiness wasn’t something I liked to dwell on
.

“Not quite,” I said, as I usually did. “I’m a work in progress, always in need
of tweaking, of being looked after.”

“Fucking good
job too. Don’t know where I’d be without you now, Marti.”

And there it was, the confirmation I sought, him telling me he wasn’t going anywhere and needed me as much as I needed him.

“Your sister coming over this weekend?” he asked, stroking my hair with one hand, wanking his cock with the other.

The man was insatiable.

“Nope. I was meant to tell you when I got in from work, but you grabbed me, shoved your cock in my mouth, and that was the end of that.” I still couldn’t get over what Julie was doing. “She’s met a bloke. An actor. Going away with him in the morning to keep him company while he’s on location.”

Joel stopped wanking. “What? Your Julie, with a man? A permanent man?”

“My thoughts exactly,” I said, lifting my head so I could look at him. “She’s never found anyone who could treat her how she wants to be treated—until now, apparently.”

“Who is he, some B movie man, an extra?”

“No. And you’ll never believe it when I tell you.” I didn’t feel bad sharing my sister’s good news with Joel. She treated him like her brother, had said I could spill the beans to him and him alone. “Mason Ward.”

Joel jolted forward then swivelled round on the edge of the sofa to stare straight at me. “What?
The
Mason Ward?”

“So she said.”

Joel clapped, his features animated, eyes alight with pleasure. The devilish kind. “Oh, your dad when he finds out. He’ll shit a brick.”

I shrugged. “He hasn’t wanted anything to do with us—well, me mainly—so her seeing Ward won’t bother him.”

“But didn’t you know?” Joel widened his eyes. “Your Daddy Dearest has got into movies. He’s the one financing Ward’s current project. I read it in the paper.” He slapped his thigh and laughed so hard he lost his breath for a few seconds. “Your sister is going to turn up on location…oh…oh…and… Apparently he’s been on set. Unusual for the money man, but so The Herald said, your dad’s mad on Westerns. He wants to watch how the filming goes, and Julie…hahaha…Julie is going to turn up there and…” He couldn’t continue for laughing.

Although I saw the funny side of it, I had to warn Julie. If she caught sight of
Branston… Shit, things could get a bit awkward. As far as the public knew, Branston’s children preferred to keep out of the limelight. And we did, for the most part, unless you counted us being under the spots at Sexy as Hell. Our own little fuck-you to the bloke who would freak if he knew what we were doing to make a few quid. Joel was convinced Branston knew exactly what we were up to, that the old boy kept tabs on us, but Joel didn’t know the man. Didn’t know how he was able to shut off his emotions and pretend he didn’t have any kids at all. As far as I knew, he told people if they asked that Julie was a friend of his wife’s.

“Pack it in,” I said, lightly slapping Joel’s knee. “He won’t give a shit she’s there—
apart from a cursory hello if their paths cross he’ll ignore her. You know as well as I do why he won’t acknowledge her as his daughter in public. If the press get hold of who she is, they might follow her—to me. And the last thing he wants the world knowing is that his pretty-boy son has tits, fucks about with snakes, and regularly takes a snake of a different variety up his arse.”

Joel sobered. “
Call her. Then come back to me. I may well need you again by the time you’ve finished.” He stared at his cock, engorged as it was inside his hand, and smiled.

I rolled my eyes in an exaggerated way then left the room. Yes, I’d call Julie, give her the heads up. After all, she was the only family I had except for Joel, and if I could pay her back for the support and kindness she’d shown me over the years, it was the least I could do.

Back in the living room,
Julie now fully prepared for what might come her way, I looked around for Joel. He wasn’t there. I glanced at the snake tank, seeing my pet was curled around a large stone, then I went in search of my man. I found him lounging on our king-size bed, his dick standing upright in his fist yet again, the head swollen and dark purple.

Christ, he’s holding it a bit tight. Then again, he likes the pain.

“Take that shirt off,” he said, nodding at me.

In the doorway, I glanced down at said item, buttons in the wrong holes where I’d not long done them back up from our last bout of fucking. The black material was stained with Joel’s cum, a creamy streak of it down the front.

“I want to see your tits,” he said, giving his cock a hard jerk. “I want to put my dick in between them while you squeeze them together. And”—he licked his lips—“I want you to bend your head when I’m about to come and open your mouth. Catch my spunk on those pretty, red-painted lips of yours.”

Fuck, the things he said always had me raring to go. I began undoing the buttons, slowly, staring at him the whole time. He parted his
mouth, and little puff of air came out. Later, that air would turn into pants or sighs, letting me know exactly where he was in his search for release. Telling me what I had to do next in order to make him jizz in my mouth. Or my arse.

I removed my shirt and let it drop to the floor. Lifted my hand to palm my tits, teasing him, showing off my wares but not allowing him the pleasure of touching them too. I pinched my nipples, twisted them, amazed, as always, that they worked like they had before my op. A zip of pleasure went from them to my cock, making me hard, making my bollocks draw up tight. I knew without feeling my balls that the skin covering them had crinkled, semi-hard ridges that would loosen as soon as I got some action on my dick.

“That’s it,” he said. “Touch those beauties.”

I fondled on, watching as he
wanked and licked his lips again. I stepped nearer to the bed so he could get a closer look—so I could get a good look at him too. His face was flushed, and the short, dark strands at his hairline were plastered to his brow. His eyes seemed to glitter—with the anticipation of coming, I knew—and the stubble on his cheeks and chin had appeared to grow denser since I’d come home from work.

“What’s it like being a man and a woman?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

He’d asked me that question many times before, and now it was a part of who we were, a game we sometimes played. He got off on my description, and I got off on being able to be exactly who I was without shame.

“Fucking wonderful,” I said
, fluttering my false eyelashes. “Best of both worlds. I like tits—you like tits. I love cock—you love cock. My arse is my cunt, your cunt. That little knobble inside my arse is my clit.”

“
My
clit,” he said, massaging his cock harder. “All of you, every bit of you, belongs to me. So tell me, how does it feel when I shove my cock in our cunt?”

“Brilliant,” I said, resisting the urge to copy Joel and
wank. “The best.” My dick was hard, my balls hanging low and heavy now, but he’d wanted tit play, and that’s what he was going to get.

“And those tits. Fuck, yeah, those tits.” He panted. “They’re something else, they are. Perfect. Big but with those small nipples you’re tugging on. And your nipples. Tell me how it feels when I suck them.”

“I always want them sucked harder,” I said. “Can’t get enough of your mouth on them.” My breathing quickened, and my cock bobbed. “And you suck harder, pull harder, twist harder, and shit, I could come when you do that. Come so fast in your arse or mouth that you choke either way.”

“You bitch,” he said, then sucked in a sharp breath. “You
gorgeous, fucking teasing little bitch.”

I held back a smile, knowing my words would have affected him that way. They always did. “I’m your bitch. Yours.”

“You are, and never forget that. Come here.”

I went to the foot of the bed then knelt on the end. Still tweaking my nipples, I moved forward, into the space he’d created by spreading his legs. The scent of him wafted up, pure sex aroma with the hint of his new need, and I breathed him in. Closed my goddamn eyes and breathed him in. Held it there so he’d be inside me forever.

“So fuck my tits,” I said. I swung them over his face, making sure the nipples were just out of his tongue’s reach.

He backed up to sit against the headboard, and I followed, sitting beside him this time, my aching balls and cock throbbing. He straddled me, rose a bit, his cock in perfect alignment with my chest. I reached across to the nightstand and found the lube, handed it to him so he could have the honours.

“You fucking slut,” he said. “Always want a wet tit-fuck, never dry.”

“Then it’s like a real cunt for you,” I said. “Wet. Slippery. Hot.”

He groaned, quickly squeezing lube into his palm then tossing the tube over his shoulder. He placed his hand to my chest, the shock of the lube on my skin cold, and massaged it between my tits until it grew warm.

“So soft,” he whispered, staring down at what he was doing.

He took his hand away, wiped it on the quilt, then gripped my upper arms. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes then guided his dick towards my tits. He slid into the valley between, groaning, and I pushed their sides, creating a tight sheath for him to fuck. He moved slowly, moaning, muttering
sexy tit-cunt
over and over. Lifting his hands, he put them on my head, curling his fingers so my hair was caught up in his fists.

“This,” he breathed. “Yes, this is what it’s all about. Cocks, tits, fake cunts, arses. And you. Always you…”