Writing Sex Scenes - #DarkRomance #Obsession #Passion @Apky11162

 

By A P von K’Ory (Guest Blogger)

Sex is genre-specific. We all know that. I confess I love writing my sex scenes a lot. For the simple reason that I write them primarily for me. Perhaps that’s why I keep them few and far between but long and intense. My true fantasies, what I want and already know, what I was reluctant about but blew my world when I tried it, and even what I tried and was disappointed with. I dip into every libidinous well of my womanhood. When I get to my sex scenes I become my heroine and it’s all about that woman in me. Of course she’s never one static recycled woman with every sex scene – who is?

But yes, skill to create an immersive and emotional sex scene is a must for me. I’ve read sex scenes that I skipped over with a muttered For heaven’s sake, rolling my eyes. It doesn’t mean the scenes were not up to it – it means they weren’t my “up to it”. Quite frankly, I’m not even sure there’s a right and wrong way to do this.

But in general there is a way to write some dead good sex scenes.

Asking some questions helps.

Is the scene even necessary at that point in time?

In romance novels, sex scenes are the eggs you need to make your omelette. In speculative fiction or mystery, it may not be mandatory.

Sex may sell in Hollywood, but the written word is more nuanced than film. It’s a mistake to think you need sex scenes in your novel just to snatch your reader's attention. Other means – pacing, characterization and plotting – achieve your goal much more effectively IMHO. So let them do the heavy lifting. Never add gratuitous sex – it might skew the plot, interrupt the pacing or even cheapen the story, destroying your characterization or making the reader feel insulted.

Focus on your characters and determine whether they’d actually want sex at that point in their story. We writers are so attuned to our characters that when we force them into round holes when they want squares, we sense it. The natural flow jerks and judders, fluidity and harmony disappear. It feels like forcing a child who hates it to eat broccoli. Tune in here to your writer dual role of voyeur and recorder. Give your characters the freedom to make their own choices.

And ask yourself whether the sex scene moves the story forward. Sometimes, implied sex is more impactful than a sex scene. The same goes for detailed descriptions.

Sex scenes can and do get raw. Those limbs, the sounds, sweat, lengths and girths and tightness, wetness, the river stone nipples and sensitive nubs. If these make you cringe, scrap them until your modesty mode can cope.

Here’s where I separate my thoughts from who my reader will be. Here’s where I become me and write the scene for me. Here’s where as a writer you write down what your characters are doing. The clearer it is to you, the clearer it will be to your reader.

You have to be absolutely convinced this sex scene is integral to your story’s plot. If your characters tell you they’re ready for this, give it to them sans your sense of embarrassment to weaken the story. Go for it. This is your moment for show, don’t tell.

Never is that advice more important than with a sex scene. Show that bead of sweat running down a temple or dripping from the tip of a nose. Say how that hiss of pleasure displays gritted teeth or sprays particles of spittle in the air. Is that a low moan or a strangled scream? Positions adjusted? Eyes darkened? Movements slow or fast? Kisses gentle or hungry? You get it.

Above all else, don’t lose the pacing. Depending on how you do it, an entire chapter of sex might lose momentum or get irritating. But well-paced, two chapters will leave the reader still panting for more. The audience also makes a difference. YA (ages 12-18) and NA (ages 18-30+) have their individual preferences. Know when to apply restraint. My barometer is always my characters – I live them and they live me. If I force them anywhere, they rebel; if they manipulate me where I don’t see them, I rebel.

Good thing I’m the dictator!

A word about third person POV in sex scenes: don’t hop around. Get into one characters head and let it all occur through their POV. The other person will be represented by the POV’s reactions, both verbal and physical. Sticking to one POV helps focus the reader. Don’t give them a peep show because that eradicates the intimacy.

Tension reigns whether it’s a thriller, horror, fantasy or sci-fi. It also reigns in the sex scenes. What’s at stake before, during and after? What will be the consequences if it’s a one-night stand? Broken hearts and relationships? Age gap? Illicit liaisons? Even with married couples, create a conflict during sex. Use the sex scene for character development. Don’t end a chapter with sex and start the next as if the sex didn’t happen. Something has to come out of the characters having had sex, even if it’s in a brothel.

Fall asleep together wrapped in love? Wake up together in disgust? Wake up with one already gone? Messages left? Effect of the message on the recipient?

Sex must change your characters or it serves no purpose in the story.

Lastly, in real life, there might be a necessary break to go check on the crying baby, answer that insistently ringing phone, shout at the neighbor pounding on the front door for an emergency, or – horror of horrors – the sex partner skips off mid-matters to empty that awful bladder.

Not in a story. Verboten. Nada. Nyet.

Unless it contributes something significant to the story, e.g. a rom-com.

And when you finally have the scene done, let it brew for a day or so, then read it again. No changes? Great! You must have had fun writing the scene.

With Untameable Revenge by A.P. von K‘ory

Book 4 in the Untameable Series

Blurb

Adrian
Still in her twenties, Leontine is Wall Street's dreaded Gorgeous Ice Block, and richer than Midas.
I’d fended women off me with bazookas when I was done but they weren’t.
Until Leo. But I still tried to avoid her like arsenic.
I warned myself to remain professional in our business dealings.
Yet double quick, I knew professional with Leo is a myth.
It was always her from day zero…
Then the Phantom dares abduct and touch her.
Abduct and touch what I’d claimed as mine.
The waters of the Pacific Ocean where his yacht is moored? Not again.
This time, it’s the fire. Not even his DNA will survive.

Leo

He enters my mind first, then my body.
From out of the blue, he becomes my only weakness on the planet.
Although I’d sworn off men forever. But Adrian isn't a man, he’s an evil god.
I know I shouldn't crave him so desperately, feel so exposed without him. But I do.
I know he can destroy me as easily as he can destroy my arch-enemy.
Yet he's the only air I want to breathe if it poisons me.
Adrian is the god of consummate sins and painful indulgences.
But the sins are heavenly, the indulgences glorious.
How do I fight this dark god whose darkness eclipses mine?

NOTE: This book contains violence, adult content, and language that could be triggering. You've been warned.

Buy Links

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CQMTQ151

UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CQMTQ151

CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B0CQMTQ151

DE: https://www.amazon.de/dp/B0CQMTQ151

JP: https://www.amazon.co.jp/dp/B0CQMTQ151

AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/B0CQMTQ151

About the Author

A P von K’Ory writes romance, psychological thrillers, and nonfiction. She loves diversity – it’s in her aristocratic DNA. She has won more than half a dozen prizes and awards from four continents. Her family stretches from the Nilotes of the Eastern African Nile Delta to Germany, France, and the Walloons (Belgium). She lectures Economics and Sociology in Austria, Germany, and Switzerland. Being migratory –  and weather willing –  she lives in Germany, France, Cyprus, and Greece. 

Connect with A P von K'Ory

A P VON K'ORY can be reached under the links below.

Visit her Website: http://apvonkory.com

Signup for her Newsletter: https://apvonkory.com/contact

Instagram über mich & meine Bücher & Macken:

https://www.instagram.com/apvonkory

Would you like to join hands and receive ARCs of my next books? Then please join the „Discerning Readers“ here:

https://www.facebook.com/AkinyiReadersReviews/

The latest interviews and news about Shana und Roman on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Goshanaliterotic

It would be lovely if you could visit and like my author page and read more bites about Shana and Roman as well as Leo and Adrian, the Coming Soon(s), Cover Reveals and even about what I had for breakfast, the dinner I burnt to cinders the night before or the perfect cake I baked for Sunday family coffee Here’s my Author page link:

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorAPVonKOry

Follow me on Twitter under: @Apky11162 https://twitter.com/Apky11162

English Book trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WkGuFzsRgsM

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7063572.A_P_Von_K_Ory

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/a-p-von-k-ory

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/APvonK'Ory

Google Play: https://play.google.com/books/publish/u/0/a/14014035798980597784#list

Verve Romance: https://ververomance.com/app/APVonKOry

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.de/akinyi100/

Autorenecke (German): https://www.autorenecke-gelsenkirchen.de/autorenecke/a-p-von-k-ory 

Even though she knew he was a scoundrel... #NewRelease #Yorkshire #MFRWHooks

Welcome to this week’s MFRW Book Hooks blog hop. Today I’m celebrating another new release, a short contemporary erotic romance with a bit of light bondage entitled Getaway Girl. This is one of the first romance stories I wrote. Now it has been sliced, diced and given a new lease on life.

Check it out! All the buy links can be found at https://www.lisabetsarai.com/getawaygirlbook.html

Blurb

Be careful what you wish for

All Peg wants is a break, a bit of adventure, a relief from her mundane existence in the bucolic but boring Yorkshire hamlet of Kirkby Malzeard. When dashing, sophisticated journalist Lionel Hayes saunters into the pub where she's tending bar, Peg suspects that he was just the sort of man to fulfill her fantasies of escape.

The seductive Lionel, however, is not what he seems. Before she knows it, Peg is a hostage, roped and gagged, speeding away from the scene of a daring crime. Lionel is armed and dangerous, but somehow Peg still wants him – regardless of the consequences.

The Hook

“Freeze! Don’t make a move, chickie, or that pretty face of yours will be splattered all over the mirror.”

“What?… Who?”

The guy pointing the gun at her was a complete stranger. He had greasy blond hair and a pointy face that reminded Peg of the rats she sometimes saw in the dustbin behind the pub. He dropped his heavy-looking duffel onto the floor, kicked the door shut, and aimed the revolver with both hands.

“Shut up. Back up to the bar. Slowly. Put your hands on your head.”

Peg couldn’t move, couldn’t think.

“Now! Before I get annoyed. I just shot that idiot guard, don’t think I won’t shoot you, too.”

Guard? Did he mean Rodney? Oh, God!

The door opened once more. Peg was about to yell for help, but the scream died in her throat. Into the pub, lugging an identical bag and breathing heavily, walked Lionel.

“Hey, Jack. There’s no need to talk so roughly to the lady. I’m sure that Margaret will help us. Won’t you, darling?”

Everything became crystal clear. “I—you—you bloody liar! You crook!”

“Now, Peg, be reasonable. I thought that you liked me.”

“You slimy toad, you took advantage…”

“Stow it,” Jack snarled. Lionel smiled, half apologetic, half mocking. Then he turned, put out the ‘Closed’ sign, and locked the door.

Peg’s phone lay on the bar, just two feet from where she stood. She lunged for the device, but Lionel was quicker. Snatching it up, he slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Come on, Peg. You’re smarter than that. Smart enough to know that you’ll be better off if you cooperate.”

“Cooperate how?”

Jack scowled. “We need a place to hide out. Somewhere quiet and out of the way, where the cops won’t think to look.” He strode over and pressed the gun barrel to Peg’s temple. “You got any ideas?”

Peg gave Lionel a desperate look. He shrugged. “It will go easier for you if you help us. We need to go to ground, fast.”

“I can’t think with that thing pointed at my head. Tell him to put it away.”

Lionel nodded at Jack, who lowered the gun but still kept it trained on her. She racked her brain, trying to come up with a plan, some way she could escape and raise the alarm. Lionel watched her, a half-smile playing on his sumptuous lips. Damn, even though she knew he was a scoundrel, he still attracted her. He reminded her, just a bit, of Gary, the wicked, red-headed teenager from the States that she’d fallen for, ages ago, at her grandmother’s place…

That was it! Gran’s little house would seem like the perfect place for them to hide. Meanwhile, she’d have the advantage of being on familiar territory.

“There’s a cottage, northwest of here, where we used to go on holiday. It belonged to my grandmother. No one’s lived there for several years now. The country’s very wild, and it’s the only house for several miles around.”

“Sounds perfect.” Lionel was trying to reassure her. “How far is it?”

“I’m not sure. Less than two hours, certainly. You take the A65 from Skipton, then get onto the M6, but not for long. Most of the trip is on back roads, which is why— ”

“You’ll show us,” interrupted Jack. “Bert, find some rope or something. She looks like a strong girl. We don’t want no problems with her.”

Bert?

Lionel disappeared into the back of the pub. Peg could hear him rummaging around in the storeroom. Before long he was back, holding up the ball of twine they used to secure cardboard for recycling, and a pair of scissors. “This should be acceptable. And there’s a back door and a path that leads right to the field where we parked. No one will see us leave.”

Jack grunted his approval. “You tie her. Gag her, too. I’ll cover you.”

Lionel motioned Peg to one of the benches. “Sit down, and put your ankles together.” Peg obeyed, moving as slowly as she could. She figured that every minute she could delay them increased the chances of rescue. The counterfeit journalist knelt in front of her and began to wind the twine around her ankles. Once again she could smell that cologne of his, the breath of fir trees on some distant mountain. Her nipples tightened. Her contempt for him did not seem to affect her physical responses.

He hardly touched her, but every time he did, she shivered, whether from fear or desire she truly couldn’t tell. He felt it, though, and looked up, searching her face. She looked away, pointedly focusing on the revolver aimed at her heart.

 

Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

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Review Tuesday: Ice Queen by Joey W. Hill -- #ReviewTuesday #BDSM #EroticRomance

Ice Queen by Joey W. Hill

Story Witch Press, 2015

During the two-plus decades that I’ve been writing BDSM erotica and erotic romance, I’ve had a number of readers recommend the work of Joey W. Hill. She’s hugely popular in the BDSM romance genre, and I knew I should at least sample her books to understand why. When I noticed that Ice Queen was available for free, I grabbed a copy.

It took me a while to get through this novel. I’d read for a while, then lose patience. However, I think I now “get” the reasons for her fame.

1. She does a wonderful job capturing the emotional and sensual nuances of dominance and submission, pulling the reader into the mind and body of her characters. D/s is subtle and complex. Ms. Hill does not oversimplify but shows us all variations, changing moment by moment like the light on a partially cloudy day: fear, hunger, anger, comfort, peace.

2. She fulfills readers’ expectations by incorporating every cliché and stereotype in the genre.

The first reason filled me with delight. The second made me want to throw my e-reader across the room.

Anyone who follows my blog will know how highly I value originality. I knew how Ice Queen would end after reading the first two pages. I literally groaned out loud (earning strange looks from the other people on the subway). Tyler Winterman, the Dom hero, is the perfect Alpha, right down to his phenomenal wealth and his history as a CIA agent. Marguerite Perruquet is the consummate Mistress, exquisitely beautiful, tragically wounded, and of course inescapably susceptible to Tyler. You knew she was going to submit to him despite her resistance, that they’d fall in love, that nothing would stand in the way of their passion. Now, all romance tends to be predictable, but this book had absolutely zero suspense.

Another serious problem, for me, was the constant head-hopping. Overall, Ms. Hill writes really well. As noted above, her prose beautifully evokes both sensation and emotion. Given this skill, I can’t really understand why she seems incapable of sticking in the perspective of one character for more than a page. It’s incredibly disruptive and confusing to be identifying with one character, then suddenly, without warning, to be yanked into the head of another.

I will say that this book includes one the most intense, edgy and arousing femdom scenes I’ve ever read. I have to believe that Ms. Hill has some personal experience with D/s given the insights in that interaction, and I applaud her courage in including such extreme (but realistic) material.

When she focused on Tyler and Marguerite, though, I mostly lost interest. Yes, Tyler’s gradual seduction of the mistress is beautifully described. However, it was such a foregone conclusion that I just didn’t care.

It may seem presumptuous of me to be panning a book that’s rated #138 in Amazon’s list of BDSM erotica. As I say, I can understand why she has such a dedicated following. I don’t think I am going to be among them.

In defense of insta-love – #Menage #Spanking #Ghosts @piamanning3

By Pia Manning (Guest Blogger)

It’s true, love at first sight, or insta-love, is a real thing. Not everyone is cautious when it comes to following their hearts. Some of us just know when we’ve found the love of our lives and are willing to take that leap of faith into a lifetime commitment. Elizabeth Faulkner (Finding Home), Sherry Evans (Coming Home), Piper Thomas (Advantage: Home Team), and Emily Slater (Hometown Spirits), would all agree with me.

Here’s my story:

I met the love of my life one miserably, bone-chilling, wet day in late November many years ago. Drops of icy rain rolled down my nose and soaked my hat and coat. I clutched a nylon backpack to my chest with fingers so cold I couldn’t feel them. There I was half jogging to my apartment in a futile effort to escape the sleet when a car pulled up beside me. The driver rolled down his window and asked if I wanted a ride home.

Oh, I knew who he was. My white knight lived in the apartment below mine but the previous year he had been the resident assistant on the dorm floor with the worst reputation on campus. But I still had six blocks to go, the sleet poured down, and beggars can’t be choosers.

His car started life as a red VW Beetle but had faded to a weird shade of pink and rust-orange. The front fenders were wired to the chassis. Despite this, I got in. And noticed that I could see the road through the floor. But the roof didn’t leak, and that beat my nonexistent car.

Outside our building, we sat and waited for the icy rain to end. We talked. About everything. Sometimes big topics and big feelings; other times about small silly things. The sleet finally ended, the dark tattered clouds fled, and yet we still sat there, talking.

The next evening, he knocked on the floor (his ceiling) and asked if I wanted to help him finish a pizza. Bribing me with food was a dirty trick. It worked.

To make a short story shorter, we were married that next January. Number of weeks in our courtship from start to finish: Five. We’ve been together forever. I truly hope we have forever again. 

By the way, to celebrate love in general and my new release in particular, I am giving away a free copy of the the latest Caveman Creek romance to one person who leaves me a comment. Don't be shy! Have you experienced love at first sight? Or do you think it's a myth?  

Hometown Spirits Blurb

Nurse Practitioner Emily Slater wants a home of her own in a welcoming community. She fell in love with Pinecone Creek and hopes to connect with the people she serves and give back to her town. Emily needs the kind of relationships that last a lifetime.

Brothers Mike and Paul Lambert have always called Pinecone Creek home. They need a woman to share their lives and their bed. One look at Emily sends their hopes soaring, and they spin dreams of having a family and children. Their protective instincts roar to the surface whenever they’re close to her. Even though they’ve been disappointed before, they’re willing to risk their hearts again.

But Emily hasn’t finished unpacking and her ‘to-do’ list is a mile long. The men are panty-dampening hunks, and they make her feel safe, but she isn’t ready to commit to the brothers quite yet. And that cabin she just bought? Someone or something doesn’t want Emily there.

Buy Link: https://www.bookstrand.com/book/hometown-spirits-mfm

Excerpt

“That’s Letty Nelsen’s old place. No one’s lived there in a while. Not since—” Mike’s gaze traveled downward.

“Letty got murdered,” Angie finished. “People say strange things happen out there at night. Lights, sounds of a woman crying and moaning…” She shivered.

“The realtor told me a lady died there, but he didn’t say anything about a murder. I’m not sure if I believe in ghosts or hauntings, but that is awful. I planned on stopping out there tonight to unload tools, take measurements, and try to get an idea of how much DIY is in my future.” And how much it’ll cost, Emily thought. “But I haven’t been back in weeks. Can you give me directions? It’s no fun wandering around in the dark.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you follow me?” Mike offered.

“Oh, thanks, but I don’t want to put you out. If you don’t mind just directing me…” Emily honestly didn’t want to impose on Mike, but going off with a strange man to an isolated cabin in the woods wasn’t a smart thing to do—no matter how nice he seemed or how fast a woman might drown in his soulful brown eyes or notice the muscles straining against the Henley underneath his flannel shirt or…

“No trouble. It’s on my way home,” Mike coaxed.

“You’ll be safe with Mike. Besides, I know you’re leaving with him, so he’d be in for a big hurt if you disappeared!” Angie declared while she cleared their plates.

“Thanks, Angie.” Mike rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“My pleasure, Mike,” Angie answered over her shoulder before she disappeared into the kitchen.

“With a reference like that, how can I say no?” Emily laughed and laid some bills on the counter. “If you’re sure it won’t take you out of your way, I’d appreciate the help.”

About the Author

Pia Manning is the erotic romance author behind the Caveman Creek series. She is married to a wonderful man. Rides herd on four cats (not easy to do) and canine Noodles the Schnoodle (schnauzer/poodle cross), raises monarchs, and plays Clash of Clans. Not a morning person.

Find me at:

Website: https://www.piamanning.com

Siren Bookstrand page: https://www.bookstrand.com/pia-manning

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=pia+manning&crid=1CTBHDIYQC8VR&sprefix=pia+manning%2Caps%2C484&ref=nb_sb_ss_ts-doa-p_1_11

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/northofhwy8

Apple Books: https://www.apple.co/4aOraBY

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/caveman%20creek

Twitter: https://twitter.com/piamanning3

Email: pia.manning at yahoo dot com

All Author: https://allauthor.com/book/87193/hometown-spirits/

So completely good, so wholly right … #MFRWsteam #EroticRomance #SneakPeek

 

Welcome to the May MFRW Steam Hop! This is, of course, the “lusty month of May”, and I thought I’d kick things off with a sneak peek at my upcoming erotic romance release Getaway Girl. The book is available now for pre-order; it will come out next Monday. Want to read it before it’s available to anyone else? Leave me a comment. I will randomly select one winner from everyone who comments.

Meanwhile, here’s the blurb and a steamy bit from later in the book. Enjoy!

Blurb

Be careful what you wish for

All Peg wants is a break, a bit of adventure, a relief from her mundane existence in the bucolic but boring Yorkshire hamlet of Kirkby Malzeard. When dashing, sophisticated journalist Lionel Hayes saunters into the pub where she's tending bar, Peg suspects that he was just the sort of man to fulfill her fantasies of escape.

The seductive Lionel, however, is not what he seems. Before she knows it, Peg is a hostage, roped and gagged, speeding away from the scene of a daring crime. Lionel is armed and dangerous, but somehow Peg still wants him – regardless of the consequences.

Note: This book was originally published in 2015 by Totally Bound. This second edition has been substantially revised and has a new ending.

Buy Links: https://www.lisabetsarai.com/getawaygirlbook.html

Excerpt (Explicit)

“Nobody mentioned the missing barmaid, I gather.” Peg switched off the television, somehow annoyed that her absence hadn’t even been noticed.

“Looks as though they’re really on the wrong track. Maybe we can relax a bit.” Lionel came up behind her and unfastened her bra again. His hands reached around to cup her breasts, massaging them gently. Despite her best intentions, Peg couldn’t help leaning back into his body. His hard cock settled in the divide between her buttocks. He stroked the silky rod up and down in that warm crease while strumming her rigid nipples with his thumbs. Each touch sparked electric spasms in her pussy. “Come back to bed, Margaret. Please.”

Peg allowed him to pull her back to the king sized four-poster. She was still uneasy, but she couldn’t resist his hands, his mouth, his sumptuous voice. He lay her down on her back and suckled at her swollen nipples until they were so sensitive she could scarcely bear it. Meanwhile, his fingers played between her legs, smearing her wetness over her outer lips, teasing her clit, then plunging deep into her hungry pussy.

She was achingly close to climax—he already knew how to bring her to the brink in minutes. With expert skill, he held her there, balanced on the edge, every touch waking new pleasure in her depths, but with the ultimate pleasure always a breath away.

He rubbed his cock against her thigh as he pumped his fingers in and out of her pussy, faster and harder. Each stroke ended with a flick to her clit. Each brought her closer to the release she so desperately craved.

His scent surrounded her, sweat and sleep and semen, mixed with the faintest hint of evergreen. It was familiar now, reassuring, yet still intoxicating. She moaned and squirmed under the relentless assault of his fingers and his mouth. She felt his cock jerk against her, and knew that he was close also.

“Inside me,” she gasped. “Please, now… I want to feel you come inside me.”

Lionel rolled over on his back and in one swift movement, pulled her on top of him. Peg opened her thighs eagerly. His cock slid home, deep into her pussy, where it belonged. He tensed as he entered her, struggling for control, holding back so that they could climax together.

Peg sat up, her thighs straddling his pelvis. She began to ride him, up and down in long, liquid strokes. He held her hips, steadying her but allowing her to set the pace. She buried his flesh in hers, grinding against him. Her clit was so swollen and hard that it felt like a tiny penis. He arched up to meet her, forcing his cock deeper. She bore down, gripping him with her inner muscles, glorying in the feeling of fullness and connection.

Lionel moved his hands to her breasts, toying with her nipples. She writhed against him. Suddenly, he jerked upwards, his muscles straining, fingernails biting into her breasts. “Come now,” he moaned. “Come, love.”

It might have been the force of his cum boiling into her depths, or the friction of his furred pubis against her exposed clit, or the sudden pain of his lacerating fingers. Or it might have been that word, that word that he had used so casually. Whatever the trigger, Peg soared into a spectacular climax, her body convulsing in rhythm with his. The bed whirled, spinning them into space. She clutched at Lionel, dizzy, giddy with pleasure, astonished that anything could feel so completely good, so wholly right.

Don’t forget to leave me a comment! And I do hope you’ll visit the other authors participating in today’s Steam Hop.

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Is their attraction physical – or metaphysical? #ParanormalRomance #Mystery @HuleneKaren

Blurb

Maeve Jackson is starting over after a broken engagement—and mustering out of the Army. No job and no prospects, she spins out on black ice and totals her car.

When struggling vintner Luke Kaylor stops to help, they discover they’re distantly related. On a shoestring budget to convert his vineyard into a winery, he makes her a deal: prune grapevines in exchange for room and board.

But forgotten diaries and a haunted cabin kickstart a five-generational mystery with ancestors that have bones to pick. As carnal urges propel them into each other’s arms, they wonder: Is their attraction physical…or metaphysical?

Excerpt

The sky was a rich twilight blue--deepening yet crystal clear, as if clarifying the situation.

“Didn’t realize the time.”

The vineyards reflected the rusty-red tones of the late winter sunset.

Dusk. I held back a sigh as I glimpsed the winery and cozy cabin. Heartrending in its homey beauty, the scene tugged at my earliest recollections.

The child of vagabond parents, I was often on the road at dusk, just as the lights began coming on in the houses we passed. Growing up without a permanent address, I fantasized about living in one of those comfortable homes instead of viewing them through the car window.

“Gets dark early in the mountains.” He caught my gaze, did a double take, then stared.

“Is something wrong?”

“Your hair…”

“Is something on it?” I swiped at my head.

“No.” He chuckled. “The sunset captures your hair’s highlights--gives it a reddish glow.”

“Oh.” Pleasantly surprised, I gave a nervous laugh as the heat crept to my cheeks. “Thanks.”

He reached out his hand and hesitated. “May I?”

“Sure.” I quivered as his hand swept my hair behind my ear. As arousing as a caress, the gesture sent a shockwave through my body.

Then his hand molded itself just above my neck, gently supporting my head as he leaned toward me.

Without warning, I ached to feel his mouth on mine.

He leaned closer.

His warm breath tickling, I met him in a rush of hormones and adrenalin. Then lifting my lips, I closed my eyes, reveling in the give and take of his kiss.

Only Teddy’s insistent bark woke me from the daze.

About the Author

Author of the Trans-Pecos and Sacred Emblem series, Karen is a best-selling author, keynote speaker, wife, and all-around pilgrim of life, who writes multicultural, offbeat love stories. Born to rolling-stone parents who moved often, Bartell found her earliest playmates as fictional friends in books. Paperbacks became her portable pals. Ghost stories kept her up at night—reading feverishly. The paranormal was her passion. Novels offered an imaginative escape. An only child, she began writing her first novel at the age of nine, learning the joy of creating her own happy endings. Professor emeritus of the University of Texas at Austin, Karen resides in the Texas Piney Woods with her husband Peter and her “mews”—three rescued cats and a rescued *Cat*ahoula Leopard dog.

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Buy Link https://www.amazon.com/Kissing-Trans-Pecos-Karen-Hulene-Bartell-ebook/dp/B0CRJ6P13V/ref=sr_1_1

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Review Tuesday: Life After Promiscuity: A BDSM Love Story by Dorothy Freed #ReviewTuesday #BDSM #Memoir

Life After Promiscuity: A BDSM Love Story by Dorothy Freed

Wordwooze Publishing, 2024

Life After Promiscuity is an erotic memoir that describes in delicious, explicit detail the author’s decades-long involvement in a committed D/s relationship. Ms. Freed (“D” to her master) met her Sir at a public BDSM event in 1970’s San Francisco. Before that fateful night, she’d known she was excited by kink, but she hadn’t dared act on her desires. She was fortunate to connect with an experienced dominant who recognized her submissive yearnings and whose outrageous fantasies complemented her own. Over the years, her beloved Sir educated her, challenged her, disciplined her when she was bratty or disobedient, and above all, cherished her.

There’s a lot of sex in this book, but the main draw, for me, is the emotional connection between D and Sir. People sometimes talk about kink in terms of “playing”, and indeed D/s scenes can be light or humorous at times, but commitment takes the intensity to another level. This is serious D/s, life-changing and life-affirming, a mutual collaboration to deepen trust and expand limits. Occasionally Sir would allow D to be used by others; she even (with his blessing) explores her dominant side. None of this undermines the fact that D belongs to Sir – willingly and joyfully.

I recognize that joy from my own experience as a submissive.

Unsurprisingly, the book has a retro feel, commencing as it does in the swinging seventies when kink culture was flourishing. Indeed, the entire genre of kinky erotic memoir feels a bit dated in 2024. Since Fifty Shades of Gray, BDSM themes and aesthetics have thoroughly infiltrated mainstream media and culture. Is there anything new or original that can be said? Is D/s still viewed as transgressive and perverse, or has everyone been spanked?

Ms. Freed doesn’t really care about this. She’s focused on her own journey, which she describes with an artless enthusiasm that is touching and a bit amusing. I’m sure it isn’t the case that every one of her sentences ends in an exclamation point, but that’s the tone of the story. Her life with Sir provides both psychological revelations and physical pleasure. She’s perennially excited and she wants to share that with us.

The book is structured as a loosely connected chronological set of anecdotes which includes her first lesbian lover and her experiments with the role of Domme. Every one of them is fun to read about. The last chapter, though, moved me deeply. She describes a (recent?) event that she and Sir attended, where they were decades older than most of the participants. Her hair is gray and she has difficulty kneeling for long periods. He uses a cane and cannot always command the iron erections he used to display. Nevertheless, the spirit of their power exchange endures – her blissful surrender and his grateful acceptance of that gift. Given that my age more or less matches theirs, this had real personal resonance.

Life Beyond Promiscuity is not a philosophical book; I’m bringing in my own perspectives here. For me, D/s is not about bodies or toys or even sexual pleasure. It’s about connection, trust, and mutually satisfying, complementary desires.

Dorothy Freed doesn’t dwell on this truth. But it’s clear that she knows and celebrates it.