Elara didn’t sleep.

How could she, when every time her eyes drifted toward unconsciousness the incubus was there, waiting behind her eyelids with that low, velvet laugh and the slow drag of his forked tongue across her clit?

By 3 a.m. she was a wreck: naked, sweat-slick, legs splayed wide on ruined sheets, three fingers buried knuckle-deep in her sopping cunt while her thumb frantically rubbed her swollen, abused clit. She had already come six times since midnight. Each orgasm dragged the golden thread tighter, pulling the demon another inch closer through the veil.

And she couldn’t stop.

“Fuck… fuck, please….” she whimpered into the darkness, voice hoarse from screaming....