s*x in death
"Did you think a few scratches in the wood would save you in the tenth hour?"
I thrashed, my heels digging into the rug, but the entity was immovable. It leaned its skeletal head against mine, the coldness of its bone seeping through my hair and freezing my scalp.
"Nine times I have tasted your soul," the shadow hissed, its grip tightening until I saw spots of light dancing in the dark. "Each time, it grows sweeter. Each time, your husband’s love seasons the meat. You are a exquisite vintage, my little bird. And I am so very thirsty."