Please welcome new author Jonathan Wright to the Moonbeams over Atlanta blog and returning tour group Indigo Marketing & Design. This is a book blast for the new release Incubus, the 6th book in the “Joseph Horn” series. If you like dark-themed fantasy and romance, this is for you.
Title: Incubus
Author: Jonathan Wright
Cover Art: Bryan Keller
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.
Excerpt
Incubus (Joseph Horn 6)
Jonathan Wright
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2025 Jonathan Wright
Jongo infested her fantasies, dark, muscular, commanding. Sarah masturbated three or four times a day thinking of him coming to take her, dragging her by her hair, stumbling naked from the house, immune to his kicks and punches, honed by years of training that would kill an ordinary man.
Not ordinary, Jongo. Not him. No. Her struggles only fed his burning hunger. And hers. As now. As naked as she was, his huge cock throbbing and bouncing as he walked, his grip was casual, yet inhumanly strong.
Stronger even than Joe, whom she had called Master more often than not. But this wasn’t really about Joe…
* * *
Exhausted, struggling to keep her feet as she stumbled, Sarah gave up, then was dragged, then followed him limply, his grip in her thick hair making her walk head down, like a slave, cursing, then crying, then sobbing… please, please, please.
Please, what? The demon’s strength, already huge, increased as he stepped out of the trees onto the beach. As his foot touched the water, he dragged her upright until she stood with her head tilted back, staring up at him. He pushed her away, his hooded eyes nearly invisible in the shadows of the moon. “Kneel.” He grinned as he stroked his cock with his free hand.
Sarah stumbled and fell into knee-deep water. Rising, sputtering as water streamed down her body, defiance failed her; words choked her. She breathed heavily, staring at his cock.
“Recall how I took you before, so easily, wrapping you in my vines, my seaweed, stroking your hungry body until you begged me to take you. How I made you scream my name.”
Her legs quivered. She wanted to curse him, scream for help, for Joe to… rescue…
Sarah had never in her life needed rescuing. Except for one time…
* * *
The wind sucked her along the dirty cement floor, into the waiting maw of that THING, the muck-drippy-thing, as she steadied the pistol and emptied the fourteen-round clip into its indescribable excuse for a face as the spindly spider arms reached for her…
Then Joe was there, grabbing her by the collar and pulling her back. Stronger than any man she had ever known. Pulling her back from the edge. Saving her.
* * *
Sarah hadn’t felt weak. Not then. Not like she felt now.
Weak. So weak. Why do I feel this way? Jongo is a monster, a creature from the icy black depths of the harshest place on earth. Why do I feel so fucking hot?
She stroked her clit with one hand as she slowly sank to her knees in the warm, swirling water. She spread the fingers of her other hand and teased her nipples, shivering as she imagined being held against her will in the depths of his lair.
“You are helpless,” Jongo told her. “Helpless.” A ritual. A spell.
Yes. Helpless! Helpless! I am helpless! Her mouth fell open. She arched her back, presenting her full tits.
I have to stop. I have to be strong! “No!” she gasped in a purposely seductive parody of defiance. Wait. Purposely? Like I want this?
Jongo grinned and said nothing, continued stroking his cock. His huge, erect cock. She couldn’t stop looking at it. At him. I love cock. I love it. Joe says I’m a cock-hungry slut. I get wet when he whispers that to me.
Helpless… His voice faded, still there, still commanding. She came with a short, harsh cry as the orgasm claimed her.
Jongo laughed. “You have already surrendered. Do as I command! Keep stroking yourself!”
She did. I can’t stop. I can’t disobey him. It feels so good to obey. I want more!
“Think how my hard cock will feel in your hot, wet cunt. You will beg for it. Beg for it, woman! Beg for my cock! For when you do, when I plunge into you, you will be mine. My slave. Forever!”
Sarah came again, moaning this time, closing her eyes and thrusting hard, pushing her fingers deep into her soft tits. “Yes! Jongo, fuck me! Yes! Make me your slave! Make me your slave!”
She dropped back into the water as he fell on her, forcing her legs apart, driving his cock into her, driving her will deep down into the chill, black depths of his domain where it dissolved like tendrils of ink. She wrapped her legs around him and thrust mindlessly, screaming as she came and came and…
* * *
Sarah lay on the table on the veranda, sweating, her tits heaving, her knees spread, hips moving rhythmically up and down in time with her frantic thrusts as she came for the fifth time. “Ah, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” She rammed the dildo into her cunt one final time before slowly drawing it out. Her whole body quivered, drenched in sweat, as she lowered her legs and stretched, groaning.
“Well, I think you must clean off that table before you use it for anything else.”
Sarah gasped in shock, but without shame or embarrassment.
Belle stood not three feet away, a gorgeous Jamaican woman of medium height and surpassing curves, dressed in paint spattered clothes and carrying various implements of artistic creation. “You missing your man Joe? He’s only been gone a day.” Belle arched one elegant brow for emphasis.
Sarah dropped the dildo and draped one arm over her sweaty face. “You have no idea…” Joe liked to watch her fuck herself like that. Imagining him doing so made it hotter for her.
Belle chuckled and began setting up an easel. “So hot for your Dom, you maybe forget we had an appointment to paint those luscious curves?”
Purchase at Changeling Press
Meet the Author
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.
