Under the spell of eroticism

Energically, Eleanor turned her face away from his, exposing the delicate alabaster skin on her neck. His grip, still strong and unyielding, clutched her shoulders as his gaze travelled up the pulsing vein along her neck and paused at her flushed cheeks. It was the same blush from that night when they had indulged in their forbidden passion without fear of consequences. Oh, if only this woman wasn't so stubborn and wilful, Rufus thought to himself. They could move to his castle together, sire numerous offspring and bathe in the bliss of their unfathomable love for all eternity. A mischievous grin flitted across his face at the thought, which Eleanor did not miss. Her head jerked back and her eyes flashed at him challengingly. "What amuses you Rufus?" Eleanor hissed defiantly, trying to ignore the bittersweet glow on her shoulders that his hands were responsible for. All she really wanted was to meet him in secret to talk about the predicament they were in. She should have known that she couldn't think straight around him.

In terms of shallow entertainment, nothing beats a "neck-biter". These cheesy romance novels always revolve around the same topics: a forbidden passion, a dark secret and unconditional love. And although they are undemanding from a literary point of view, as the lines I have briefly summarised show, I can't keep my hands off them. Why? They create tension. But not through their storyline, but with the help of sex scenes that are described in a squiggly way, which I as a reader look forward to.

Rufu's steel-hard chest nestled against her soft curves. Fogged by his breath, she closed her eyes briefly to collect herself. Before she could open her eyes again, she felt his soft lips on hers, while the cold, wet stone wall behind her sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. His tongue worked its way playfully into her mouth and she let him. Eleanor's body responded to his desire, which came over her like a thunderstorm. Her body involuntarily arched towards his demanding hands, which tugged at her dress. With a jerk, he tore the fabric in two and exposed her womanhood. Her concerns did the same to her dress and slid to the floor. Eleanor's dainty fingers danced purposefully over his linen shirt towards his leather trousers until they finally found what they were looking for.

Do you see what I mean now?

Do you have a better title suggestion or even a sequel to my story? Then drop it in the comments column.