Kayla Perrin is a USA Today and Essence Bestselling author. Her first novel, AGAIN, MY LOVE, was released in 1998, and Kayla's 32nd novel was just released by Harlequin Spice (OBSESSION). Kayla has been nominated for and won many industry awards. Most recently, she won a Borders Award for the Bestselling Multicultural Romance of 2007, MIDNIGHT DREAMS.
Learn more about Kayla and her works at her website and MySpace page!
When Sophie Gibson's husband confesses to an affair, she is enraged and devastated. And when her husband suggests that she settle the score by having an affair of her own, Sophie isn't interested. But soon the idea of sex as payback intrigues her, and out on the town she meets Peter. She soon begins an affair with him, but Peter's love turns obsessive. And when Sophie ends their affair, Peter won't take no for an answer. Because if he can't have her, no one can.
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The Question: Is sex an important component to develop in your writing? How are you able to weave it into a work AND also have a strong plot development?
For me, this question is especially valid. Not only am I writing general women's fiction, I'm writing erotica. What I strive to do with each erotic title is write realistic sexual situations with strong plot and strong characters. How do I do it? Truthfully, it's not that hard to weave in a strong plot when you look at your characters as fully-fleshed out people, people who not only have careers and issues to deal with in the story, but realistic sex drives as well. Considering the person as a whole makes it easier to include a sexual component. Sex is a natural part of an adult's life, so yes, it's important to deal with this aspect in my writing...in some books more than other.
The tip of the feather inched its way along my bottom lip. Such a light, wispy touch, but it sent a jolt of heat through my body, causing me to part my lips and emit a shuddery moan.
Another stroke. This time across my upper lip. My naked body quivered.
Quivered with anticipation of the pleasure that was to come.
The feather traveled lower, over my chin, then crossed the expanse of my neck from left to right. Right to left. All with agonizing slowness.
Then it stopped. Abruptly. Five seconds went by. I held my breath, waiting for what would come next. The blindfold over my eyes prevented me from seeing, but also heightened my sense of excitement. I could hear every sound in the room, smell everything. Mostly, I heard only my own raspy breaths and the whirring of the ceiling fan above the bed. But I could smell the desire in the room, clinging to drops of warm moisture in the air. I could smell the sweat dampening his skin. The scent was musky and heady.
When the feather caressed my left nipple, my body jerked, making my wrists and ankles pull against the ties that bound me to the bed.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” I responded, surprised to find my voice faint. “Yes,” I repeated, louder this time.
Once again, nothing. My hips writhed. I groaned softly. I was eager for his touch now. Desperate for it.
“Patient, bella,” he murmured.
“Easy for you to say,” I told him. “You have total control over my body right now.” Total control over my pleasure.
“Have I disappointed you before?” he asked.
“No,” I answered honestly. “Never.”
“And I will not disappoint now.”
The feather touched down between my ribcage, then traveled south, where it dipped into my belly button. It continued its lazy journey into my strip of pubic hair, then stopped—just when I wanted it most.
I whimpered. “Please, don’t make me beg.”