Soul of the Succubus

by Lila Shaw

  Evernight Publishing

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2012 Lila Shaw

  ISBN: 978-1-77130-086-5

  Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

  Editor: JS Cook

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my favorite trickster—Owa’a Teygu’u Siyam

  SOUL OF THE SUCCUBUS

  Romance on the Go

  Lila Shaw

  Copyright © 2012

  Chapter One

  I slip out of the men’s dressing room of Macy’s—nourished but sick, sated but empty from what I hope will be the last nameless tryst of my existence. My life has been an endless loop of quick fucks and clandestine hookups. I live for and because of them. But I hate it, hate being a succubus.

  For millennia I have existed as a sexual parasite upon humanity. I take men inside my body, coax out their essence and thrive. I feel nothing for them other than a fleeting spark of gratitude at best, contempt at worst. I’m tired of it, all of it. No price is too high to shed the curse.

  Now, I seek the one who owns me, to demand my freedom. I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain—one million souls delivered. Tonight I travel to Hell and I’ll either return a free woman or I’ll be destroyed.

  Not many realize one of seven portals to Hell lies inside the meat locker of Gold’s Texas Barbeque. The Golds know, of course, because it was part of Sol’s contract with the devil.

  I enter the sparsely populated restaurant and butcher shop between the lunch and dinner crowds. A cacophony of jingle bells on the door announces my arrival. Sol Gold shuffles out to assist me.

  “Yve. Good to see you.” He wipes his bloody hands on a towel looped through the tie of his apron. “You need to use the portal or are you here for some of my world famous pulled pork?”

  Mmm, Gold’s pulled pork could tempt a Rabbi to sin. They also make a mean shrimp salad, to totally thumb their noses at being kosher.

  “I have an appointment with the Man, millennia in the making.”

  Sol’s porcupine brows raise and his jaw slips, jowls jiggling when it bottoms out. “You mean…”

  “Yep, I delivered number one million ten minutes ago. Time to cash in.” I give him a half-smile. The smoky aroma of slow-roasted pork and tangy barbeque sauce tantalizes my nostrils. My mouth waters like a rabid Pavlov’s dog.

  Poor Sol. He’s been at this game for less than half a century and already he looks so weary and consumed. The Man drives a hard, and often one-sided, bargain. Once upon a time, I thought a million souls easily doable. I should have done the math. Even if I’d delivered a soul a day, a million days is nearly three thousand years. After a while, a girl gets tired of having sex with a series of strangers. When I first started, three a day was a slow pace. Even three at a time wasn’t unusual during the Roman orgies. Now, I’m lucky if I can muster the energy to snag three a week. A barbeque sandwich is more likely to paint an orgasmic grin on my face than a decent fuck is.

  Sol motions for me to step behind the counter and lead the way to the meat locker. He’ll let me out the portal door and reseal it from his side. Returning is much more complex.

  As he passes to undo locker’s latch, he does a quick perusal of my attire. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

  I pause and survey my Seven for All Mankind jeans, Manolo Blahnik boots and Missoni knit top. “What? You don’t think he’ll approve?”

  Sol sighs and shakes his head. “You’ve known him longer than I, of course. I’m sure Lou will be fine with dungarees, a schleppy top and go-go boots.”

  I run a hand over my ass, round and tight, my second best asset, next to my cootchie and followed closely by my tits. “These make my butt look fantastic, and Missoni is never schleppy.”

  He pats me on the arm. “Then you have nothing to worry about, Yve.”

  Inside the meat locker, we weave amongst the pigs dangling from the ceiling, large lumps of porcine carnage. We stop in a far corner of the locker, an unassuming, perfectly camouflaged area. I’d have never guessed it to be a portal to Hell.

  “Is anyone meeting you on the other side?”

  “Someone’s always stationed at the portal. I’m more concerned with who it’ll be.” I adjust my sweater and straighten my hair. “Last time I went, I had the Hellhound as my guide. Even with three heads, he’s not much of a talker and has absolutely no sense of humor.”

  Sol grips each of my shoulders. “Go safely, my dear.” He busses both cheeks before taking them in his hands. “A Gold’s special on the house will be waiting for you when you return.”

  Dear Sol. I do hope I return to enjoy that sandwich. I suck in a confidence-shoring breath and step through.

  People think Hell is hot, but it’s actually cold, cut through you and ice your joints into frozen submission cold. I shiver and hug myself. The entrance appears to be unguarded, but I know that’s a false illusion. Lou never leaves his lair open to any schmuck or avenging angel who might stumble or sneak in.

  I jog to speed up my visit and to pump some warmth into my body.

  “Yve. Long time no sssssseeeee.”

  I stop. I recognize the voice. “Show yourself, Ta’avah!” This time I will not fail, will not be beguiled by his antics. I have too much at stake.

  “Sssweet, sweet Yve. I’ve missssssed you.”

  “Ta’avah! Take me to Lou. I command you! Besides, it’s only been a week since you last saw me, so cut the theatrics.”

  He can’t disobey an order to take me to his master. Despite the chaos that forms the fabric of Lou’s dominion, a few rules are inviolable. Rule number one is all visitors must be brought to Lou, dead or alive. Since I prefer to be alive, I am prepared for a challenge.

  “Ssssweet, sssexy, Yve.” Ta’avah emerges from the shadows, his breath a fog in the icy air. Lou’s chief succubus-maker always appears to me in the form most likely to waylay and tempt me from my end goal. Sadly for me, he usually succeeds. Today, he’s tall and muscular with dark curly hair. His aquamarine eyes are framed by nearly black lashes and brows. An angular jawline sports a light dusting of stubble, just enough to be drop dead sexy. Naked from the waist up, his broad shoulders and solid chest invite my fingers to touch. They itch to stroke the fine dark hairs outlining his pectoral muscles and trailing in a narrow column down his stomach where they fan out below his navel. Navel? I burst into a fit of giggles.

  “Ta’avah. You have a belly button.” My laughter reaches near hysteria and I hiccup trying to make myself stop.

  He grins and peers down at the mockery of a birth that never happened. “Don’t you like it?” He flexes a bicep and tightens his abdominal muscles into a six pack. The effect snatches a gasp from me. Ta’avah gives a soft chuckle and dips his thumbs in his pockets, fingers pointing to his crotch, a rather sizeable bulge. “This is for you too.”

  Damn, how did he know? “I’ll bet. But I need to see Lou first.”

  He strolls toward me, a swagger of virile confidence in every step. Eyes scrape up and down my body. “Come on.” He starts to walk down the yellow brick road, Lou’s sick little attempt at sarcasm. “Rumor has it you delivered your millionth.”

  I don’t like the way he says this. Caution is warranted. “Yep.”

  “So you’re here for redemption, right?�
�� He stops, and I hesitate beside him.

  “That’s the plan.”

  A smile infused with something—longing, sadness—curls the edges of his face. “Good for you.” Another laugh fills the air. “Good for you.” His voice trails off.

  Chapter Two

  Soon we come to Lou’s palace, decked out in opulent excess. I stop to admire the view. For a snake in the grass, Lou’s tastes are refined, though a Taj Mahal replica is a smidge over the top.

  Ta’avah sidles up to me and pushes a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, then whispers: “You have one last task, my dear. Boss says he wants a front row seat for your last one.”

  I pull away and whirl on him. “No! I’ve delivered my million. I’m done.” He shakes his head throughout my protest.

  “Check your contract.” From his back pocket, he removes a single sheet of paper, folded into fourths, and hands it to me, page seventy-nine of eighty-one. The master of subterfuge at his finest. “I marked the pertinent section for you.”

  I read. Shit! “Upon the deliverance of the millionth soul, undersigned agrees to undergo a reversal ceremony under the supervision of Granting Contractor.” A girl forgets these types of details after nearly four millennia. Why me?

  “You don’t have to look so fucking happy, Ta.” I shift from foot to foot and try to convince myself it could have been much worse. I might have had to fight one or more demons to the death just to reach Lou’s palace. I have before. “Where is Lou anyway?”

  “I’m here, Lilith’s child.” Lou emerges from a darkened room to the right, the hissing of undead heralding his exit from their midst. “You have served me well, succubus. Are you ready for your redemption ceremony?”

  “I am. Let’s get on with it, please.”

  Lou hikes one corner of his mouth and points to a room on my left. “This way. Ta’avah has a special treat for you.”

  “I’ll bet he does,” I mutter under my breath. I shoot a glance at Ta, but his face is inscrutable. There are worse men, or creatures, to fuck while Lou watches. At least I think, I hope, it’ll be Ta. He was my initiation demon, after all.

  “He can hear you, you know,” Ta says in a muted tone.

  Ta leads us into a crimson-walled room. In the center is huge pit littered with pillows. Around the sides of the pit are at least ten lounge chairs. The chamber soars two stories, and at the top, windows allow viewers to peer down.

  I spin to face Lou. “The contract says under your supervision, not all your minions’.”

  Lou laughs. “We are legion.” His teeth are perfect pearls of brilliance that contrast with his bronzed skin. Sandy blonde hair with platinum highlights surrounds a beautiful face that belies the evil inside. Lou capitalizes on his silky tongue and gorgeous good looks to entrance his victims. Once upon a time I fell and fell hard for his melodious persuasions. Biggest mistake I ever made.

  I hold up a hand. “Alright. Let’s get it over with.”

  “Now, there’s the spirit,” he purrs. He drops down into the pit where he makes himself comfortable on a collection of cushions against the side.

  Ta advances on me, a lecherous smile on his face, eyes that bore into mine. “Take off your clothes, Yve.”

  “Go sit down, over there, first.” I point to the opposite side from where Lou lies stretched out.

  Ta shakes his head, but does as I ask, his long strides eating up the distance.

  “You always were coy,” Lou says then yawns.

  I lean over in profile to both Lou and Ta and remove my boots, then my jeans and sweater. I fold the garments and place them beneath my footwear. I paid a gazillion dollars for those boots and want to be able to grab them and run if necessary. The rest doesn’t matter as much.

  Ta sits on the edge of the pit and removes his shoes, Mephistos, of course. What a suck up.

  I stroll over in my bra and underwear, Jockey French cut, the modern woman’s granny panties. The expression on Ta’s face is priceless. “Shut up! I didn’t think I’d be entertaining.”

  “Nice, Yve. Now take ‘em off,” he demands.

  On the one hand, I want to torment Ta, but on the other, I want to get his rocks off and get the hell out of Hades. The sane side wins, and I strip off the undies and toss them near my pile of clothes.

  From the corner of my eye, I see Lou perk up and adjust his position. Overhead, faces appear one by one at the viewing glass. The show has begun.

  “Come here.” Ta unfastens the top button of his pants, then points to the rest. “I got it started for you.” What a peach.

  I drop to my knees in front of him. We make eye contact. I try to erase my face of any emotion. Ta sports a know-it-all smirk. I don’t even want to know what Lou looks like. I unzip Ta’s pants with a slow and steady snick, snick, snick. He exhales softly and threads his fingers through my hair.

  “All for you, my sweet, sweet succubus. Let’s make you last time your best.” Ta keeps his voice low and intimate.

  Off come his jeans. He’s not wearing any underwear. A half-formed erection greets me. I lift my eyes to his and scowl. He shrugs. Son of a bitch is going to make me work for this. Fine.

  I grasp his cock and give it a few vigorous pumps with my hand. That gets Ta’s blood flowing enough to give me something decent to work with. Some artists work with oils and canvas; I work with dicks. I bring my lips to the head of his penis and use my tongue to sweep up and around.

  Ta moans, right on cue.

  I lick his frenulum, feather-like flicks against the narrow ridge of skin, all the while moving my hand firmly along his shaft.

  He moans louder.

  I work up some saliva to lubricate my canvas.

  Ta sucks in his breath with a staccato-like rhythm. Someone’s had a dry spell, methinks.

  My mouth slides lower, my tongue like a car wash brush in hyper drive.

  Ta’s hands curl and relax in a lazy rhythm as I bob up and down on his cock, my fist around the base of his shaft. I slip an occasional finger down to tease his balls. He responds exactly as I hoped.

  Normally, I’d be wired by now, ready for my own turn at the fun, but with an audience, it’s hard to work up the enthusiasm. I concentrate instead on giving the best blowjob of my life. Ta seems to agree with my efforts because his hips are pumping his cock into my mouth with increasing speed.

  From the corner of my eye, I spy a ring of demons forming around the perimeter of the pit. A couple of them openly masturbate as their eyes lap up the scene. They make animalistic growls and grunts.

  The loud clapping of hands interrupts me. “Enough!” Lou yells for us to stop, so I stop. Ta looks like he’s about to cry. “Watching BJs bores me. Fuck her now, Ta’avah. And make it good.”

  I drop to my hands and knees, hoping Ta follows my lead. In this position, I can duck my head low and avoid making eye contact with everyone, especially Ta.

  He slides his hands over my ass, stroking my skin from the small of my back to the tops of my thighs. I lower my head to present higher to him. “Come on, Ta.” My body responds and sends a wave of warmth to prime my snatch for an invasion of the male kind.

  Ta maneuvers into position behind me, his cock nudging against my cleft. I rock backward to move him inside.

  More demons join in and jack off, hissing with enthusiasm. I’m not liking this type of applause. Gang bangs with boorish demons aren’t my thing.

  “Oh, Yve, damn baby, you’re as hot as an oven.” Ta shoves forward and fills me. His hands encircle my waist to hold me steady to receive him again and again. “Oh yeah, you like that don’t you, baby?”

  I give him a sour look over my shoulder. I hope we don’t have to do the hokey sex-a-logue for Lou and his kids.

  Ta’s eyes close and his head rolls back. I brace myself as he picks up speed and jackhammers me. I close mine too, to shut out the world and welcome the cascading sensations Ta evokes. It works because, like a roller coaster, the tension begins its slow climb to a peak that promises a mind-blowing
plummet.

  “Change positions!” Lou’s bare feet are at my eye level. His toenails are so gnarly even the ladies of Little Saigon Nail Emporium would run screaming.

  Ta pulls out with a squishy pop and throws me to my back on a sea of pillows. Out of habit, my legs splay to receive him. He doesn’t disappoint and in seconds, he’s back inside, thrusting furiously, matching each movement with a primal grunt. I clutch the pillows and again concentrate on the mounting waves of bliss. Despite the circumstances, Ta’s using all the right moves. I sense his nearing climax and start to tighten up, priming for my release.

  “Not fucking missionary style!” Lou’s back and he kicks Ta off of me and onto his back. “Ride this piece of shit, Yve.”

  I oblige because woman on top is my favorite position. I can make a man come lickety-split when I’m in the saddle. I’m wicked good at driving them a little insane in the membrane once I get to rockin’.

  From my new position, I see seven demons surround the pit. Four are having sex with each other, one hetero and one homo pair. One has already shot his wad and left a big mess at his feet. Its hand strokes its shaft in long silky finishing movements. After a final drawn out groan, the demon takes a lounge chair.

  Above us, at least a dozen faces peer through the glass. That’s all I can see of them, thank goodness.

  I impale myself on Ta’s cock, swelled to immense proportions. My arousal allows me to take all of him inside without any discomfort. Despite being part of a sex show, he feels wonderful. As I rise and fall on his turgid rod, a warm friction grows and tugs at the hood of my clit. Nerve endings send happy signals to my brain as ripples of bliss come in increasingly shorter, more intense intervals.

  “Yeah, Yve, just like that, girl.” Ta bucks his hips beneath mine, trying to squeeze inside me a few more centimeters.

  I ride him, a lazy trail ride at first, gentle undulations in the saddle. His eyelids flicker, hands grip my hips to squeeze the most from each stride.

  I want to keep my verbal expressions of pleasure locked in silence in my head, but they burst out. “Oh-oh-oh,” I yell in rhythm with my quickening movements. Ta always amazes me with what a fantastic fuck he is. “Oh yes!” I’m being dragged to pleasure Armageddon. I haven’t the strength to stop the orgasm that peeks around the corner, not that I’d want to. Pressure builds. My muscles coil tighter in preparation for the explosion that will free them.