Title: Incubus

Author: Jonathan Wright

Cover Art: Bryan Keller

Genres: Action Adventure, BDSM, Dark Fantasy, Mystery & Suspense, New Releases, Paranormal, Romance

Themes: Age Gap (Older Man), Capture Fantasy, Dark Romance, LGBTQ+ /Bisexual, Nonbinary, Transgender, Magic, Sorcery, and Witchcraft, Military, Veterans, and First Responders, Multicultural & Interracial, Voyeurism and Exhibitionism

Series: Joseph Horn (#6)

Book Length: Novella

Page Count: 30

Synopsis

Warning: This is a Razor’s Edge Erotica short story. Expect limited plot and character development, and lots of heat. If you’re looking for a lengthy plot driven erotic romance, this is not it!

Life — and love — with a man who fights nightmares is bound to be… different.

Smart, capable, and lethal, Sarah Fenton never needed rescuing — until she met Joe Horn and his horrifying nemesis, the muck-drippy-thing. Together they defeated that nightmare, and for the first time in decades Joe could stop running.

In the process, Sarah discovered her weakness — Joe. The hard-as-nails woman becomes Joe’s willing sub — his slave girl. Joe is a perfect Dom, but Sarah has even darker fantasies — lurid, sensual and totally submissive. Sometimes, they even come to life.

Now one of them is stalking her, and she feels the awful temptation of nightmarish pleasure. The darker the fantasy, the more intense the pleasure. Pleasure stronger than any drug. Pleasure that threatens to drown her. The pleasure of surrender… to an Incubus.

Incubus (Joseph Horn 6)
Jonathan Wright
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Jonathan Wright

Sarah started awake.

Beside her, Joe Horn slept, nude. Remembering how he had fucked her earlier, the intense hunger in his eyes, the animal passion in his long, muscular body, she marveled at the sight of Joe, actually sleeping. She could not remember the last time she had seen that. When she woke in the middle of the night, hungry for sex, he was always awake before her, waiting. But now…

She heard movement. The house — a stone, wood, and glass example of mid-century modern architecture, moved and creaked the way all houses did.

Not like this.

Nothing else happened. Probably an animal. She turned to Joe, thinking she needed to wake him again, feeling the hunger. Then she heard the sound again.

A shadowy figure moved into open, limned the moonlight. Tall, dark, very muscular. Alarmed, she reached for Joe…

No.

She stopped. Not at the command, but because she knew that voice. Even when he was in her head, even though she had heard him only one other time, she knew his voice.

Joseph will sleep for a while. For long enough. No harm will come to him, or you. My word.

She saw the figure more clearly — because he had moved much closer.

Jongo commands the sea. But the night is also Jongo’s friend.

Sarah’s mouth felt dry. She could not touch Joe. Words would not come.

“You are mine, woman. Come to me on your knees. Crawl.”

Sarah felt his voice like warm oil on her libido. Felt his power over her. His control. She loved surrendering to the power.

“Your body is mine to take. Bring your body to me. Offer yourself, on your knees. I am your master. Come.”

She moaned. That body, black, muscular, wet from the sea! She realized she had begun stroking her clit again and forced herself to stop.

“Your body remembers how I took you, how I used you. Your body hungers for my cock. Come.”

She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out, but her clit ached. She slid off the bed and lowered herself to hands and knees. This is a waking nightmare — a fantasy. Nothing more. I’ve always wanted this, in my fantasies. To be seduced. Forced. Enthralled. This is just a fantasy…

Sarah slid open the porch door.

“Come to me,” the voice commanded. He made her feel delicious. She carefully descended the wide wood steps, crawled all the way down the path to the switchbacks that led down the cliff to the lagoon.

Her knees and hands hurt from the dirt and stones. She was tired. But Jongo had commanded her.

He stood ankle deep in the surf at the shore line, waiting. His muscular body glistened in the moonlight. “Come.”

She crawled across the sand, to the edge of the water. Small wavelets rippled across her hands and legs. His feet appeared before her. She did not look up. The smell of the sea wafted strong in her nostrils. Her body trembled and her cunt throbbed.

Jongo said nothing. His feet disappeared as he stepped behind her.

She jumped, gasping, as his cold hands touched her. He trailed his strong fingers the length of her body. She closed her eyes and moaned, remembering the last time, here in the lagoon, in this same spot. So cold. And wet, as though he sweats cold sea water. He strokes my body, covering me with water, like lotion that seeps into me, working its way into my soul…

She gasped again as Jongo reached around and caressed her tits, hanging like melons, squeezing them, playing with her nipples. His breathing, behind and above her now, sounded low and deep, then began to increase with his hunger.

 

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Jonathan Wright retired to the northeast, where he is surrounded by family and trees in about equal numbers. In his free time he enjoys thinking up erotically terrifying situations for his characters, who insist they don’t like that sort of thing. When he isn’t writing about slavering fangs in the dark he does weird-ass paintings.

He has a daughter who will admit to the relationship under duress. He puts up with her because she makes great cookies.

We don’t know why she puts up with him.