As I handed over a copy of my latest novel, Tied to You, to a friend last week she asked me the question that seems to come with the territory of writing erotic romance:
“So how much of this is about you?”
I was quick to reassure her that it was all fiction, a product of a very overactive imagination, but I have to confess that I was telling a little white lie. Because at the end of the day, no matter how much of a story comes from our imagination, there are always elements of ourselves imbedded into the narrative.
The reason for the white lie then? Well, I am sure my nearest and dearest don’t really want me to admit to what I get up to in the bedroom with the Hubby, even if he is always happy to participate in a little ‘research’, and most importantly of all there are simply things that I like to keep private.
No matter how much I keep to myself though, I do find it seeping into my writing. When I wrote my first novel, Thirty Days Have September, I was feeling adrift following a sudden move from Australia back to the UK. While I might have been pretending to everyone in my ‘real’ life that everything was okay, my main character’s depression and feelings of abandonment very much echoed how I was feeling at the time. I never I intended to write it that way, but as the words flowed out of me it seemed like so many things from my subconscious found its way into the story.
While I am very upfront about who I am as a person and the fact that I write what I write, I am still careful about how I am perceived, hence the need for some ‘creative’ truths. So when people ask me that question I am quick to tell them how marvellous Google is. I might be avoiding the truth but at the end of the day we are all entitled to a few secrets.
“We’re leaving,” Alex states in a tone that brooks no argument. I merely nod in reply and let him lead me to the cloakroom to fetch my wrap, and then we are sitting in the car, being driven home. The tension between us is thick, yet neither of us has said a word. I glance up at Alex under my eyelashes and see his jaw clenched and an expression that I can’t fathom in his eyes. Every fibre of my being is hyper-aware of Alex’s masculinity, and a dull throb sits between my legs. I squirm in my seat, trying to find a little relief, when suddenly I am aware of Alex’s scrutiny. His eyes bore through me, yet the expression on his face remains a neutral mask. A smirk appears as he runs his eyes over my body and I find my nipples hardening under my dress.
We have no sooner pulled up in front of the house than Alex is pulling me from the car and into the house. The door slams shut behind us and for a moment we both just look at each other, lost in the inevitable. And then Alex speaks. “Turn around, Olivia.” The command is issued in a low, gravelly voice, completely at odds with Alex’s regular teasing tone. The use of my full name startles me, and before I can think further, my body is already obeying. I stand still, my eyes staring up the stairs, as we stand in the frigid hallway, and I wait with bated breath. A few moments pass and all I can hear is our breathing.
Suddenly I am aware of Alex’s arms coming over my shoulders and unhooking the cape at my throat. It slithers to the floor, and for a heartbeat, the world stops spinning on its axis. I shiver as I feel Alex’s warm breath on my neck as, ever so slowly, he pulls down the zip of my gown. “Put your arms out and hold on to the end of the bannister,” he instructs gruffly. I comply without rational thought, quietly awaiting his next command. The single movement has my dress pooling at my feet as I lean forward to grip the smooth wooden post. Large, agile hands skim down my sides until they rest on my hips and I am very much aware that my arse is now in the air, the angle of my body on my heels offering direct access to my damp, aching pussy. The hands follow a leisurely pace down the backs of my thighs and calves, until they reach my ankles. “Lift your foot and then the other,” Alex orders. I comply and he pulls the dress out from around my feet, discarding it in a heap by the front door.
I glance back down at Alex, but immediately he notices. “Eyes forward,” he barks, and I whip my head back around, my heart thumping in my ears. The cold of the hallway has raised goose bumps over my skin and I am shivering ever so slightly. I feel Alex stand behind me, heat radiating from his frame making the cold more tolerable, and then I hear him shedding his own clothes. My body is feeling ultra-sensitive, and the moment his hand snakes around my waist and deft fingers find my clit, I let out a low groan, as the warmth starts to spread across my pelvis. His pelvis pushes into my arse and I can feel the huge length of him grinding between my butt cheeks. Suddenly, Alex’s other hand is grabbing my breast, pulling it from the confines of my strapless bra and, almost painfully, squeezing my nipple. Teeth nip at my ear and neck as he forces my head back, my back arching as I try to maintain my balance.
“I don’t make love,” Alex hisses into my ear. “I fuck, I root, I shag…but I don’t do soft and I don’t do sweet. Do you understand, Olivia?” I nod my head, a thousand conflicting thoughts swirling around my head. “If you want this to stop, you need to say so now…” he trails off and waits for my answer. My brain is telling me that this is all a bit weird, that this is not what I want, but my treacherous body has other ideas and so I keep silent.
Tied to You (Book blurb)
What happens when you hit rock bottom and can’t see a way out? Do you take the handsome stranger’s indecent proposal that seems too good to be true?
In a word, yes.
Desperation will make you do crazy things, like giving up a year of your life and travelling halfway around the world to marry a gorgeous Aussie winemaker who seems to come with more baggage than he knows what to do with.
I know I should keep my distance but there is something about him that just draws me in. Maybe it is the way he always seems to be there for me when I need it most, or that he just seems to know the right thing to say.
All I know is that the moment he kisses me on our wedding day, I am in trouble.
Wealthy and arrogant, Alex is used to getting whatever he wants and he has set his eyes on Olivia. For months he has watched her as she calls out to every protective instinct he possesses. Waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself, he is determined to make her his, in any way possible.
But Alex is hiding a secret, one that he is determined to protect until, one day, Olivia makes a revelation that sets her on a course of self-discovery. Together they explore Olivia’s submissive side, pushing boundaries and taking her on the wildest ride of her life. However, when Olivia’s past threatens to expose Alex’s secret, the true strength behind Alex and Olivia’s relationship is revealed.
Amazon (US) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NN50KZE
Amazon (UK) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00NN50KZE
British author Bibi was born in South Africa and loves to travel. She has previously spent a year living it up on the beaches of Western Australia and her hobbies include consuming copious amounts of coffee and chocolate, building cardboard castles with her daughter and creating stories in her head.
Inspired from a young age, her love for literature started with Enid Blyton and her Secret Seven. Since then a voracious appetite for books has brought her a world full of heroes, love, murder, betrayal and the odd vampire thrown in for good cause.
Having long admired those brave enough to put pen to paper, or in this modern age of computing, keyboard to screen, she has finally started telling the sexy stories that she has been keeping locked up in her head all this time.