Monday, July 5, 2010
The Appeal of the OW/YM in Erotic Romance
What is it that an older woman might find appealing about a younger man? Well…there is all of that lovely energy. I’m talking about the positive energy that men of a certain (and I’m talking legal, here) age seem to be surrounded by. They’re so passionate about what they see as a new adventure. And a relationship with a mature, confident woman is bound to be an adventure.
It’s that energy, the sparkle in his eyes and determination he exudes while pursuing the lucky heroine that intrigues me. I just know he’s always going to be more interested in her than in his stock portfolio. Its fiction, ladies and gents, stay with me.
What does the heroine see beyond the perfect pecs and washboard abs that first sparks her attention? Well, it could be that it doesn’t take her long to realize that this guy has figured out something she already has. If you can’t make yourself happy there isn’t a person on earth that can do it for you. He’s comfortable in his own skin, he knows who he is and is smart enough to remain true to his principles. He is appealing both physically and emotionally.
While the sexual journey of the Older Woman/Younger Man is used to reveal the romance in an erotic romance, it is actually the emotional connection between the hero and heroine that happens during this journey that I think readers find so appealing.
What do you think makes an OW/YM romance appealing? Do you find them appealing?
Leave me a comment letting me know and you’ll be eligible to win a copy of my OW/YM novella, NO HOLDS BARRED, which is available in e-book from Ellora’s Cave. I’ll announce the winner at the end of the day, so check back, especially if you’d rather not leave your email address with your comment.
What’s a woman to do when the younger man she can’t forget tracks her down after a night of passion, meant only to celebrate her fortieth birthday? If you’re Raphella (Ella) Dotti, you succumb to a year of Sunday morning, long-distanced phone calls with thirty-year old Jake Truhorn and end up agreeing to celebrate your next birthday with a week of unbridled-no-holds-barred-anything-goes-sex. No problem, right?
Unless you have a few trust issues, gravity challenged breasts, the hips of a Sicilian peasant and are prone to gut wrenching, chest constricting panic attacks. Unless the man you’re spending that week with looks like he walked off the cover of a romance novel and has an agenda that includes Sex Toy Poker, the joys of uninhibited outdoor sex, painting you nude—cellulite and all, a fantasy three-some for two and entrusting him with a heart you’re afraid of losing.
Delicious heat radiated from somewhere behind his very starched shirt and the thought that she’d never be cold again slipped through her mind before she could stop it and then his hot insistent mouth was on hers and she stopped thinking.
She was vaguely aware of her shawl slipping away. Jake’s hands were everywhere, tracing her shoulders, molding her back, exploring her. He found the side zipper of her very elegant black silk dress. She bit her bottom lip, smiling as he drew the zipper down with the same slow deliberate ease he was doing everything else.
“This dress should be enshrined,” he rasped, drawing the shaped bodice away until her breasts bounced free. He kissed them while he peeled the satiny fabric over her ribs, followed the path with his tongue, licked into her bellybutton, feasted as if she were a rare delicacy to be savored.
“You’re very good at this,” she whispered, when he skimmed her out of her garter belt and stockings. He wrestled her panties down with his teeth and she shivered when the air hit her bare bottom.
“I’m very inspired,” he whispered back, kissing her pussy as if he was kissing her mouth and that was all it took. Her knees buckled, she shook, was still shaking when he swung her into his arms.
Breathless and naked against his fully clothed chest, her skin tingled but it was his possessive gaze that ensnared her. “The next time will be better,” he said, lowering her to the bed, ripping at his tie. “After that, we’ll be amazing.”
After that? She arched her brow, and bit back a nervous laugh. She’d be gone after he rolled over and started snoring.
“Oh that looks like a challenge, Raphaella Dotti and if there’s one thing I like, it’s a challenge.” He grinned, looking young, potent and just the slightest bit dangerous.
He pushed his slacks over his bare hips, ripping open a condom packet with his teeth and rolling the protective sheath over his cock with a caress that had her mouth watering.
Her skin prickled and the hair on the back of her neck fluttered like a caress. She lifted her arms, smiling, until he slid into her so quickly she gasped. He gave her just enough time to settle before he rocked her into a rhythm that turned hard, sharp and fast at exactly the right moment.
She groaned and reached for him when he slid out of her, arched when his warm tongue circled her clit and speared inside, thrusting like a small warm cock. She caught the rhythm. Almost there.
Until he slid backup her body and eased his tongue into her mouth. She could taste herself, salty and sweet at the same time. Quivering, she almost came when he thrust his cock back inside her. She clenched her inner muscles, trying to draw him deeper. And then each thrust became sharper than the last and she coiled, tightened, shattered. His roar reverberated through her and sent her crashing into another wave of pleasure.
She was still shivering from her orgasm, boneless and replete when he kissed her, whispering against her lips, “You are so beautiful.”’
Ella didn’t have enough energy left to laugh. She was used to men telling her that to get her into bed, not after they’d already gotten her there.
No Holds Barred
By Paris Brandon
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