How Little Miss Goody Two Shoes Writes a Sex Scene
First, I want to thank the Morgans for inviting me to the
Diaries today. I’ve known about their site since its inception, and it’s got a
great reputation for fun topics and awesome discussions. They don’t shy away
from reality (or fiction!) here. So what better place for my mama’s “nice girl”
to talk about sex?
Some time ago I got the reputation of being a “good”
girl—you know, the kind who gets warned with lines like, “Well, you might not
like this book, it’s pretty spicy.” I don’t precisely know how I got the rep
(because I tell really good naughty jokes) except that I’m a wimp about a lot
of things like graphic violence, the death of a hero I love, too much swearing,
more than six sex scenes, and heavy bondage. Hmmm, well, maybe that could sort
of describe a goody two-shoes, couldn’t it?
Nevertheless, let me tell you what I am not too Miss Goody
Two Shoes to enjoy: great action, great passion, great romance AND, above all,
a great sex scene. (Apologies to my beautiful daughter, who prefers to believe
she was a test tube baby or delivered by a stork, take your pick.) A good sex
scene can transport a reader to “somewhere else.” An excellent one can make her
fall in love with the characters in your book. The best scenes will make your
reader believe the characters will do more than just love each other—they’ll
love each other forever, no matter what else they face. And the very, very best sex scenes will make
you forget the characters are figments of someone’s imagination.
So, how, you ask, does little miss wimpy-me me write that
kind of sex scene with no handcuffs and lots of euphemisms? Two words: relationships
and setting. Here’s what I mean.
Relationships. In
my own books, I prefer fewer sex scenes per book, ones that contain no bondage
or dominate/submissive themes, and that feature a man and a woman. This is
based 100 percent on taste and zero percent on me making judgments. What I like
in my level of graphic description might be different from what others might
want, but whatever that level is, the most important thing for me is to believe
the characters involved are committed and caring and honestly intending to
share the best of themselves with their partner. I’ve read many books—by
writers I thoroughly admire—containing elements I’m not comfortable writing (or
am not good at writing) but that show a super high positive relationship
factor! Handcuffs or no, I approach
every sex scene by working foremost on the relationship.
Setting. To me, the
setting is fundamental in creating a love scene that’s unforgettable and not
just another boring Tab A in Slot B scene in the book. The most traditional setting for sex is
obvious—a bed. And a fine setting that is! But, with a common setting like
that, what will make my scene stand out? How do my hero and heroine get to the
bed? Where is it? I have to try to come up with something a little unique so we
forget they’re on sheets and not in the branches of a tree. (Of course, a tree
might be exactly what an author needs to make a scene unique.) I always work to
come up with a setting that’s imaginative all on its own, while still flowing
from the story and being conducive to building that all-important relationship.
Which brings me to the shameless plug for my new book, “The
Rancher and the Rock Star.” It has lots of sensuality and one sex scene. That
scene would be described as “vanilla” – meaning the sex is fairly traditional
with no “kinkiness.” But I’ve also had it called (by our own knowledgeable
Morgan among others), “one of the hottest love scenes” ever.
I definitely doubt that—but I’ll take the compliment. Why do
I think it worked? It was a pivotal scene in my hero and heroine’s
relationship, and I set it in the woods next to a campfire and then had the
hero do a work out! Unusual? I hope so. Meaningful? It was to them. Hot? Well,
at least the campfire was!
I’ll let you decide if it works. But first, tell me your thoughts about
love/sex scenes in books. Do you prefer no sex, some sex, vanilla sex, or hot
and steamy no-holds-barred sex? Do you
skim love scenes, avoid them, or relish them?
If you’re a writer – do you have a process? I have one fellow writer who
keeps a book of her scenes and is known to recycle them. Is sex a controversial
or uncomfortable subject for you?
After you think about all these steamy questions, have a
peek at the exclusive excerpt below. My critique partners and I call it “The
Push up Scene,” and you’ll only find it here on the Morgan Diaries or in the
book itself. Then have at it and share your thoughts.
Most of all, enjoy!
EXCERPT – THE RANCHER AND THE ROCK STAR
(Exclusive to TMD)
Turning back to the campfire, Abby closed her eyes. She loved the heat on
her face—the ultra-hot flush from the flames. The heat was intensified tonight,
in every secret spot of her body. Gray’s presence owned her awareness, along
with the cricket songs and the pounding of her pulse in her ears.
“You look cold.” Gray's voice startled her, banishing the last thoughts of
horses and losses.
A laugh spilled from her lips. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not. I say you’re shivering.” He unfolded his powerful legs, pushed
to a stand, and Abby’s stomach moved into a rocking samba of excitement as he
strode to stand over her. “I can see you shaking from here.”
“You need glasses.”
“No, I need something much different.”
He knelt in front of her. Her stomach dipped; her breathing accelerated.
“I think my plan to slow you down has backfired.” She swallowed. “You
need to work off some of this sugar high.”
He placed four fingers between her breasts and pushed with gentle, steady
pressure until she lay on her back, her head just off the quilt. Walking his
hands up either side of her body, he crept forward until he was suspended over
her, balanced on his hands and toes.
“Good idea.” He lowered his body, and his hot breath, sweet with a lingering
scent of the schnapps, swept her face. She sucked it into her lungs like the
smoke of a drug
His biceps contracted then straightened. A perfect push-up. “One,” he
said.
“Oh, jeez.” Her breath escaped like steam from a valve.
His arm muscles bunched—down and up again. “Two.”
The third time, his torso whispered against hers, prickling like static
electricity. “Three.”
Next he brushed her full body, breast to thigh. Blood pounded to her
core. “Four.”
“Who does pushups anymore?” The words squeaked past her larynx.
“I do. Five.”
The campfire’s heat jumped from the pit to Abby’s body, and she fought to
keep from pulling him onto her to end the teasing.
“Six.”
“Oh. Gray.” She closed her eyes as throbbing settled between her thighs
and radiated until it pounded behind her navel.
She thought she’d been ready for him, but she’d never imagined anything
like this. Push ups. Just—push ups. She’d
never think of them the same way again.
“Seven.”
Soft lips touched her forehead. Foreheads weren’t supposed to have this many
nerve endings.
“Eight.”
She reached around and grabbed hold of his biceps. She arched her back and
when he came down again, her pelvis grazed his with a slick shot of current.
“Nine.” His lips found her nose, and she whimpered.
“Ten.” Lip to lip. Wet, lingering, he pressed against her for several
seconds before pushing up. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, and when she forced
herself to open her eyes his were riveted on her, a dreamy, opaque,
cousin-of-blue color like new steel.
“Eleven.”
“How many can you do?”
“As many as you want. Twelve.”
“How many can you really do?”
His full weight came to rest atop the length of her and the melt-down
began.
“Tonight? Only twelve.”
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