Sex is the ultimate carnal desire, a sharing of energy and light between one or more individuals. Natalya Hart is in a world of sinful flesh where her power sharing is grossly one-sided. Having reckless tryst after reckless tryst, living in a state of the orgasmic now, Natalya becomes faced with a dilemma. Should she continue on a path of indulgent behavior or investigate her lewd acts seeking answers to questions that loom? Two men, one on each side of her double-sided morals, guide Natalya until the bitter end, wanting her to choose one or the other. Should she stay untamed, listening to the man who reassures her about her natural-born tendencies? Or should she seek out the white picket fence, becoming a “good girl” with the one who falls in love with her at first sight? You determine those answers in...Memoirs of a Succubus
After showering and dressing in a plain white tee and jeans, minus boxers as he knew she would request, he headed to Natalya's townhouse arriving with 5 minutes to spare. Finding the door ajar to Natalya's lavish three-bedroom, four-bath, split-level residence, he stepped into the darkness of her domain with caution. At this point in their acquaintance, he knew that the object that he was seeking would appear in the only room with a candle showing a single violet flame. Curious as to where she purchased candles, he asked her a few months back but with annoyance she informed him that the candles were found in the basement of her home when she moved in.
As he stalked through the foyer, he could smell the familiar scent of lavender and vanilla permeating the air on the lower level, alerting him to the fact that his prize was soon to appear. Walking past the sitting room with urgency, he took a fleeting moment to admire the upscale decor of her domain. With soft, rich chocolate leather furnishings set in contrast with the icy, chill of the iron metal tables, coupled with the nude paintings of women, the entire room looked like a decadent box of chocolates.
Soon he started pacing down the hallway leading to the kitchen, when he halted with abruptness. The downstairs bathroom had a shimmering glow of plum light escaping through the door frame. He closed his eyes inhaling the delicate scent of vanilla and chamomile.
Mmmmm. She always smells good enough to eat.
His mouth watered from the memories of her.
Before he took the step of no return, that he became accustom to for the past few months, he took a deep breath, shook his head, turning the knob with a costive hesitation. “Here we go again.”