Writing a Sex Scene With the Lights Off
I have always loved to read. I lean towards the suspense genre, but I love a good erotic story. Who doesn’t? But I found out fast that reading and writing a sex scene are two different things, and I suck at writing them.
In my first book I have one sex scene. I swear I wrote it with the lights off. You see I grew up in a strict Irish Catholic home and went to a catholic school. My mother never mentioned that word in the house and the nuns would send us to confession if they even thought we had those ideas in our head. I will admit I spent many hours in confession. I just felt guilty, but once I got older I realized god was not reading over my shoulder.
Now I want a story to grab me, pull me in, and make me feel like I’m part of the scene. That’s what I want from a book I write. When I was younger I would blush and skim over the parts that described the anatomy. So when I made an attempt at a short erotic story it was like an anatomy lesson. Part A touches part B Then puts C into D and so on. I had 2300 words written when I stopped to read it. I laughed for hours at how funny I sounded. It was like I was in confession trying to explain my sins. Boy do I need a support group. I decided to scrap that attempt. I’m not going to quit trying. I am determined to get one hot, sweaty sex scene that will pull you in and make you wish you were the one tied to the bed.
Like I said, in my first full length novel I have one sweet love scene. There is heavy petting, even with the description of body parts, yah me. But towards the end we fade to black and I let your imagination finish the rest. Sounds like a copout but it was the best I could do at the time. I decided it was time to come, (no pun intended), to terms with my past and take a class in erotic writing and BDSM. I know, I’m jumping in pretty deep and there is a reason. My character, Davis, is a by the book FBI agent with a secret and it has to do with a lot of bondage and an undercover assignment that will take him to the dark areas of a life no one knows he has. I know, you’re all laughing thinking I will need a ghost writer for that one. It was not my idea, it was his. We all know our characters write their own story, or do they?
Did you ever have a problem writing a scene, and if so what was it and what did you do to work past it?
I think someone should write a book called…Writing erotic for dummies. I learn better with a little guidance and a lots of pictures.
My new release, Rescued from the Dark, published through Black Opal Books.
FBI agent, Jason Michaels goes undercover with the Irish Mob to get information on their gun smuggling ring. While on assignment he realizes they have joined forces with a known terrorist group manufacturing drugs. He searches for information to tie the two together when he finds out they have kidnapped a fellow agent, and the only girl he has ever loved. Jason soon realizes their using Mercy to perfect their dosage and that his cover has been blown. He knows he has to save her so takes off on a journey that will take him up against his enemies, peers and the Agency that he loves, but willing to give up to bring Mercy back to him.
She has no memory of their love…
Kidnapped by terrorists and sent into a drug-induced coma, FBI intern Mercedes Kingsley awakes with no memory of her ordeal—or the intimate interlude that left her pregnant. Convinced her child was fathered by her fiancé, she walks away from the only man she has ever loved, determined to make things work with her ex, a man the FBI suspects is implicated in her abduction.
He knows the truth, but no one will listen…
FBI undercover agent Jason Michaels remembers what Mercy can’t and those memories are breaking his heart. Forced to keep his distance from his lover and their unborn child, Jason risks his life to protect Mercy from a cell of international terrorists who have vowed to get the secrets locked in her memory, no matter the cost. Can Jason convince Mercy to trust him until she remembers their past, or will he lose her to a man who will trap her in a nightmare world of darkness for which there is no escape?
An explosion ricocheted behind Jason Michael’s eyes as the pressure mounted in his head. The rush of panic consumed him. He struggled to move, tried to swallow, but nothing. His throat burned as the flames engulfed his lungs. He needed to breathe but couldn’t. Shit. He strained to make out the muffled voice, but the pounding in his ears erased all hope. His head started to spin and he succumbed to the realization, this was it, the end. He won. The flames dampened and his heartbeat slowed as the drums subsided, then the voice became clear.
“Give it to him now you son of a bitch. What were you thinking? We still need him.”
In a split second, Jason sucked in a breath, causing stabbing pains to shoot through his chest. Every muscle fiber burned as the cold blast of air shot through his lungs releasing the oxygen his body craved. He arched his back, raising his chest up to pull in more air when his head snapped to the side and the crack from his neck echoed in his ears. The pain ripped through his jaw, racing across his cheekbone. Before he could gather his senses, intense burning set his face on fire. What the hell?
The slap against his cheek stung, and his eyes snapped open. He wrenched upright, hitting his head on the roof of the SUV. His gaze darted back and forth looking for something familiar until he locked onto the ice-cold stare of the devil himself, Shaun Flanagan.
Damn, that was close. Jason could not blow his cover, even if it meant he would die as David Logan and not Jason Michaels.
“You’re finally awake, my boy. We almost lost you,” Shaun cold, emotionless laugh caused Jason’s blood to boil. “You stopped breathing, I think. It’s hard to tell with this new stuff. I hope you’re not too injured. We’ve got work to do.”
Jason’s vision blurred, but his other senses were sharp. Shaun had known exactly what the drug would do and the burn in Jason’s throat was a harsh reminder. Shaun’s sarcastic tone spoke volumes to him. He was evil and did not play by anyone’s rules but his own. Jason had spent the last two months undercover, playing their games and doing their dirty work to buddy up tight to this family. He’d earned his spot with Thomas Flanagan, but his son Shaun had issues trusting anyone, even his own father.
Jason’s anger burned inside of him, but he couldn’t afford to make mistakes, not now. He was too close. It’s time to step it up, but first the drugs had to stop. He rubbed his aching jaw with one hand, clenching his other into a fist to hide his visible shaking. He had to get control of this game before he lost everything.