I'm happy to be alive and taking nourishment on this, *the morning after* the release of Cold, Hard Kash. Kash is happy, too. He's been waiting to be called out for quite awhile. Kash is a Shadow Lover. And he aims to please. Here's an excerpt:

Chapter Three

Kash breezed into the room like a midnight fog.
“I didn’t think you’d come so quickly,” the Summoner said softly. “I wasn’t sure the words still had any power.” A lie. She knew the words had power. Sharp, pointy, hard, toothy power.
She held up a photocopied page. “Especially since I tucked the original away for safekeeping and used a photocopy to summon you. Guess we don’t need this any longer, do we?” She held up an old, heavy Zippo lighter against the paper’s edge. She ignited its butane flame. The page flared. “God, I love fire. It’s so--cleansing. Don’t you love a good burning, cowboy?”
Kash’s extremities went numb. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen...the words going up in flames. And the smell--of lighter fluid and burning paper. Heavenly. He clenched his fists. If only every copy of the curse was in that burn.
He watched the Summoner’s face change from an almost haughty smirk to one of girlish rapture as she turned the page over in her hands. She liked playing with fire--but feared it, too. The rush of almost being burned aroused her. That could work to his advantage. He could read the excitement on her face--and her nipples were hard. Easy to tell that through the blouse she had on.
Mamacita, she’s an attractive woman. Kash paused, recalling the last time he’d thought that way about a woman it got him in an awful lot of trouble.
She spoke, “Well, now that you’re here...what shall we do?”
He wanted to ask her to give him the original parchment, but knew better. She had to offer it to him or else the burning would come on, and he didn’t feel up to the hot-foot. He’d become a man-sized Bic™ lighter if he didn’t follow the rules. He didn’t want to go there--not twice, at least. He could ask to see a parchment, but he couldn't ask to buy it, trade for it, or force it from a Summoner. It had to be offered or gifted to him--and that, no woman had ever done. Not in well over a hundred years. If he ever got his hands on a parchment for more than three seconds, he’d rip the thing to shreds, burn the remains and scatter the ashes. Much like the delightful creature before him had done with the photocopy. Did she know that watching the paper burn had aroused him? Really aroused him? This is my kind of woman.
Though his heart was racing, Kash put on his game face. “I came to make love to you.”
The Summoner smiled. “That’s the intended result of the utterance, yes? I call and you come to make love to me. It’s an ages-old ritual, this. The lonely woman and her Incubus lover. Magic spells and sexual incantations in this day and age which call out modern-day Incubi! I’m so pleased my efforts weren’t in vein. So...uh...what do I call you? Do we need to have a drink first, or do we just get right to it?”
Twenty-first century women! God. Kash approached where she sat primly at the foot of her bed. He noticed the candlelight and her lacy undergarment peeking out from the sedate schoolmarmish blouse. Was it to make the setting seem romantic? There really was no romance involved. There had never been romance involved. He was a sure thing. No seduction needed.
He touched her shoulder. Instantly, he knew her sexually. He knew what she liked and how she liked it. Her tastes seemed to run a bit to the far end of the lovemaking spectrum--but he knew he could please her. Kash could taste her raging passion. Passion capped like an Oklahoma oil well, lest it burst and burst free and poison the earth.
This one had a few secrets, too--dark places he couldn’t penetrate--but he’d figure things out. He always did. Her secrets were like shadows darting from the kiss of the sun.
“Call me ‘Kash’-with a ‘K.’ I want to make love to you. Your scent, your touch, your kiss--those are the only aphrodisiacs I require,” he replied.
He climbed onto the bed and pulled the woman to her back. His mouth found hers. He could taste her dire isolation and loneliness. He could taste her strength and cunning. He could taste her secrets and hidden passions; those, in fact, were nearly overwhelming.
His hands found her soft, round breasts. The sedate white blouse only made it seem more naughty as he caressed and kissed them through the fabric. He trailed his kisses down her body, over her clothing, stopping at the hem of her skirt where it met her hose. He slid her skirt up. Thank God for thigh-highs and lacy panties.
Through the delicate fabric of her undergarment he pulled and teased the seat of her womanhood to full arousal with his lips and teeth. He watched for signs--her hands gripping the bed clothes--her breath coming short and shallow--her hips gently moving in rhythm to his oral teasing. When he knew she was close to orgasm, he peeled back the wet panties and gave the Summoner the best damn tongue-lashing of her life.