Fifty Shades of Magic by Sherrie L
A succubus – a demon who prays on human sexual energy – takes over a young girl, a university freshman, and makes her commit various indecent exploits. Soon she learns about the existence of a mystery organization of demon hunters and discovers that a locket left to her by her late grandma is not just a piece of jewelry but a powerful artifact. Now she has to untangle a web of mysterious intrigues in order to find out why she is the one who is hunted by demons. The ordinary girl has to deal with Scarlet, a handsome and irrepressible demon lover, and Gray – a cunning, seductive, malicious and heartless sadistic incubus.
But is she really ordinary? Who was her Grandma? And who is Allison herself, in actual fact?
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About the author:
I’m living with my family in a detached house in the Rhodope Mountains in Europe. The place is very peaceful and calm, with unique views and an amazing climate. We have a cat who is a big philosopher and loves to sleep on the sun-drenched lawn in the front yard. I loved reading sci-fi and fantasy since I was a child and started writing in those genres when I was eight. I never visited any writing classes but I studied books on writing and followed their advice diligently. There are people who have very developed imagination, they can create whole worlds and many amazing things, and I’ve always envied them. I just can’t do the same. In my novels I aim for the same thing every time – to collect various facts about the world and put them into a complete system – my world view, my philosophy. And it’s always people who are at the center of my philosophy: my characters. I really love all of them. They are like my closest friends, they’re almost like family to me. Sometimes it seems to me that I have sex not with my husband but with my characters!
Here is a short sample from the book:
Who had taken over my body or my mind, or both? Whatever had happened that night in the club? Now that was the part I admittedly couldn’t remember. Liz and I, we’d gone to the club — actually, she probably hated me now. What was I supposed to tell her once she was back from school? Dammit. Now, now, I had to concentrate. I didn’t want to become a nymphomaniac. I had to get rid of it somehow, otherwise I’d lose all respect for myself. And self-respect made up a large part of my identity… or had done.
So, where was I? We’d gone to the club… had a couple of drinks… then Liz had gone to dance and I… yes, I remembered that girl who looked totally cool and she… she’d kissed me. Why? I remembered myself thinking she must have been high on something or other. That was it! It was after that kiss that I’d felt this ravenous sexual hunger, sensed that horny animal stir inside me. I’d love to know why? Could I be gay, maybe? What if that girl had sort of, what did they call it, enlightened me? Still it didn’t add up. Had I been gay, I wouldn’t have spent all morning chasing men at school, I’d have simply nailed Liz there and then.
No, it couldn’t have been that. Some kind of drug, maybe? What if she’d had something on her lips that had made me lose it and start chasing every man in sight? And judging by the text I’d received that morning, I’d succeeded in landing at least one.
I yawned. It was only midday. I couldn’t believe how tired I was. The incredible energy that had filled me that morning was now gone. My body felt heavy and unyielding. Should I take a nap, maybe? You never know, I might wake up, forget all about it and finally be able to concentrate on the reason for my being here: my studies. Liz would be back by then, I’d borrow her notes and apologize, we’d kiss and make up… and no more clubs, at least till the end of the year! Nothing at all but quiet campus evenings poring over books!
My cell rang. I startled. What now?
I didn’t recognize the number. I didn’t want to take the call at first but then I thought, it might throw some light on my weird behavior. Or even explain something? So I picked it up.
“Is that you, babe?” the voice was soft and velvety, very imposing.
“And you are…” I answered carefully. I’d never in my life heard that voice before.
“My angel! My goddess!”
I took the phone from my ear, away from all the ridiculous compliments. Dammit. So Jack, whoever he was, hadn’t been the only one. Was there any substance capable of causing such uninhibited behavior? As far as I could remember, morphine-based drugs like heroin or opium couldn’t cause anything like a libido boost — and cocaine or hallucinogenic ones, even less so.
“My precious, my only one, do tell me when I can see you again,” the stranger intoned as if reciting a theater part. “You promised me the world, remember? You left me this number so now I’m calling you as promised, my angel. I’m on fire.”
Whew. Finally some good news. Apparently, I’d somehow managed to confine my appetites to Jack, whoever he was, leaving this one on the back burner.
“And?” the phone demanded. “When? Where?”
“Sorry, you’ve got the wrong number,” I said. I wasn’t going to be held responsible for any engagements made under the influence of illegal drugs.
“No, no, no, babe, this is your voice and no mistake!”
Very well, then. He asked for it.
“Young man,” I said in a stern voice, “what kind of conversation is this? I’m fifty-nine years old and forced to listen to your solicitations! Now excuse me, I need to put my grandson to bed. You can come if you wish; in fact, I’d appreciate if you could pick up a pack of diapers on your way in size three. Oh, and two pots of baby formula. And would it be too much to ask you to also get him a new bib?”
The phone fell silent. After a hesitant pause, the speaker hung up. Joylessly I stared at the cell in my hand. What could this all mean? What was causing my sexual appetite to go off the scale? I’d never been like this! I couldn’t remember myself ever running after men like a cat on heat! Who else had I given my number to? Only the number, hopefully — not the actual address…
I couldn’t think straight any more. I switched the cell off — no more phone calls for me! — and crawled into bed. It was hard and creaky but I drifted off without even noticing it.
The awakening was horrible. The hungry beast had returned. My lower belly was on fire.
It was already late, the yellow lamplights dispelling the dark outside. Liz sat at her desk, busy writing in her notebook. Had it been me, I would have apologized to her straight away, the moment was perfect. But the problem was, I didn’t decide anything anymore! My place in my body had already been taken by the same weird force that had been controlling me that morning and the night before. I could only watch, helplessly, from the outskirts of my mind as the other me, horny and needy, jumped off the bed and began retouching her makeup, ignoring my roommate who was casting bloodthirsty glances at me, making it perfectly clear she might consider forgiving me if I took the trouble of explaining my behavior.
Problem was, I — the other I — couldn’t have cared less about her feelings, be they anger or otherwise. I couldn’t have cared less about any possible repercussions of what had happened earlier. I was driven by my craving. I had only one need — the need of a man. Preferably strong and juicy, with lots of stamina and a decent period of abstinence. A week or two without makes a man especially responsive.
The ‘other me’ took my best skirt out of the wardrobe — a demure knee-length pencil piece that Mom had wanted me to wear for special academic occasions. I pinched the fabric and ripped through the hem, tearing the lower half off.
Liz — who watched my every move — gasped. I tried the resulting scrap of fabric on. Perfect. The hem fringed, barely covering my backside. Now a clinging T-shirt with a deep cleavage and a nice pair of heels. Time to go hunting some more game — which was running toward me only too impatient to get caught.
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