Hello, I’m Roxanne D. Howard, and I write erotic
contemporary and paranormal romance novels. Today I’d like to discuss the power
of dreams in our writing.
I know several authors who keep a dream journal in their
nightstand, and jot down the dreams they remember upon waking. Paul McCartney
once said in an interview that he dreamt the song, Yesterday. He composed the melody in a dream, and upon waking, he
played it on the piano. He had to shop it around to friends and family because
he believed it was a song from his past or childhood, but as it turned out, it
was completely inspirational.
Dreams have the power to inspire us and lay the cornerstones
of what can be come worlds in which our characters live. Since humankind has
existed, we’ve studied dreams and tried to make sense of them. Sigmund Freud
believed that nothing we do occurs by chance, and that every action and thought
is motivated by our unconscious. He believed that our urges and desires that
don’t fit into societal norms are repressed into our dreams, and that’s how
they are released.
So how do we write our dreams? There are times when we wake
up that we hardly remember what we dreamt about, which is why it’s important to
keep a writing journal, or a memo app on our phones handy. The littlest line or
recollected visual description can make the biggest difference.
Let’s talk about writing space. In his memoir On Writing, Stephen King likened writing
to a wakeful, dreamlike state. “Your writing room should be private, a place
where you go to dream… the space can be humble, and it really needs only one
thing: A door you are willing to shut.” As a mom to two rambunctious girls, I
can testify that this is nigh to impossible at times when you’re running the
kids from school to ballet class, unless you have a lot of time on your hands.
What I’ve learned to do is create my own four walls and pseudo room when I open
my laptop. My new three-part series which comes out on October 25th
was written mostly at the kitchen counter.
While ideally you can be more creative in a quiet, isolated
environment, it is possible to write
while the kids are going to town on the playground at McDonald’s or having fun
in the bouncy houses at the fun center. If you can create those mental four
walls when you have a moment to spare, you can transpose your dreams into a
story.
While I’d love to be able to say I had an erotic dream like
the ones Lark has in At the Heart of the
Stone which inspired the story, Lark just walked as a fully formed
character into my mind with a story to tell, and I went from there. However, a
lot of lines I get for my novels do come from my dreams, and I’ve learned not
to ignore them as they come along.
What interesting dreams have you had which have inspired
you? Comment below.
Book Trailer:
Enjoy this extremely NSFW love scene excerpt from my first romance novel with Loose Id, At the Heart of the Stone.
Excerpt:
Neither of them said much as he drove. He turned up the
music for a while; perhaps he understood her need to escape everything and
wanted to give her legroom. Or maybe he was in a quiet, contemplative mood
himself.
Lark watched the tall, golden tares in the wheat fields and
some harvested pastures pass by in areas where the forests broke off before
they rejoined. She blocked everything from her mind and tried to phase out a
little, relaxing against the comfortable seat. The ears at the tops of the
tares all swayed toward the left, as if pointing at something she couldn’t see.
Their uniformity and the way they moved with the breeze calmed her. There was
no pressure to have to say anything or strike up conversation with Niall, and
it was nice.
After a while, the Explorer slowed down. She turned to
Niall. “Why are we stopping?”
He switched off the music and drummed the steering wheel
with his fingers. “Whenever I need to think about stuff, the last thing I want
is a bunch of people around me. Sooo…”
Lark braced herself against the dashboard and let out a
grunt as he drove uncouthly off the side of the road, straight into an
unfenced, overgrown wheat field.
“We’re going to give you someplace to think.”
The view from her window grew obscured by golden tares as
tall as the SUV, oscillating over the windows like underwater kelp. She rocked
around as he drove over bumps and patches in the ground.
“Uh, Niall? Do you know where you’re going?” She held on to
the grab-handle above her window for dear life as the SUV shook, and he drove
farther into the field with glee.
“Not at all, but I’d say this is good enough.” He chuckled
as he slowed the Explorer to a stop and put it in Park, killed the engine, and
turned to her. The jungle of wheat canopied the windows like a soft sky. It was
so quiet and still, she could hear both of their breathing.
“Wow,” she said in a hushed voice.
He nodded in silent accord. He seemed to consider something
and then eyed her. “Wait a second. You’re not claustrophobic, are you? I’m
sorry, I didn’t think to ask.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and relaxed against the headrest.
Something about the silence of the car and being secluded with him compelled
her to talk to him, and she found herself opening up to him about
everything—her mother, her brother, Gemma, her reluctance to discuss it all
with Maisie, what happened with Charles. Niall remained quiet and attentive,
listening with a careful demeanor as she vented, nodding a few times when she
spoke about her pain over Charles’s infidelity and the uncertainty in starting
completely anew. “Charles told me to stay away from you,” she said after a
while.
He shook his head, guffawing. “Yeah, that’s convenient, for him. What do you want?”
She bit her lip. I
want you. “I-I’m not sure at the moment. I know I don’t want to give him a
second chance, though. What he did burned me. I could never do that to
someone.”
“He’s a class A
twat, Lark; the same kind of git who used to pick playground fights and
belittle me and my brothers for wearing hand-me-downs and being poor. Be glad
you found the courage to stand up for yourself and break it off. I don’t understand
why someone of your caliber was with a guy like him.”
She rubbed the side of her forehead. “He was different when
we first got together. He changed, but I was too blind to see it. Charles is a
big baby when he doesn’t get his way, that’s all it is.”
Niall narrowed his eyes. “He shouldn’t be telling you what
to do, though. What pisses me off is he doesn’t care who you are inside. You
could be anyone. You’re a convenience for him, because with you he would have
gotten to have the beautiful, successful trophy wife, plus a little on the
side. Don’t look like that; it was clear after talking to him for a few
minutes.” He put his arm over the back of her headrest and leaned in, his
familiar face a mix of anger and passion. “Now, let me be clear about this,
Shakespeare, because this may be my only chance to tell you this before you go
back to London. I don’t know what these dreams mean, but I know I care about you in a way that is
terrifying for me to admit to. I’m not saying this out of nowhere, and I think
you can feel that. This may surprise you, but you and I, we’ve more in common
than you’d think. Besides the dreams, I mean. For my own reasons, I’ve a hard
time letting people in.”
He reached for her hand and placed her palm on his chest.
She could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath his T-shirt.
“You know, where it counts? I haven’t been intimate with a
woman since my wife died, but since I met you, everything has seemed to
connect. It’s insane, but you have me at full throttle with a mere glance.”
Lark gasped. “Are you saying you haven’t had sex in twelve
years? At all?”
He nodded.
Lark scoffed. “Oh, come on. You’re pulling my leg. I have a
hard time believing that. I mean, please!” He was a walking sex god. Of course,
that might be her being biased from her dreams, but still. There was no way.
He sighed, and when a dark shadow passed across his striking
features, she realized he wasn’t joking. “I did try to,” he ruminated. “After I got myself sorted out—and it took
years—I took women out and tried to get into a relationship many times. But for
the longest time, I felt guilty for the way I’d been with Melanie and
responsible for what happened. I couldn’t move on. I’d no desire to. I didn’t
feel worthy.”
“Why didn’t you feel worthy?” He wouldn’t look at her, and
an alarm bell went off in her head that his reluctance could have something to
do with his health. “Oh. So, I don’t mean to pry, but do you have an STD or
something? Is that why you haven’t had sex?”
He lifted his head, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
“What? No, not at all! I’m clean and always have
been. I’ve only ever been with Melanie.”
“Same here.” It seemed only right to lessen his burden in
divulging his personal life by sharing some of her own. “With Charles, I mean.
He was my first.” She shifted her fingers nervously in his hand. “Of course,
God knows how many women he’s slept with. He swore up and down that he wore a
condom every time, but…” She bit her lip and looked away. That particular wound
was still too fresh.
“Doesn’t make it any easier to bear, eh?”
She nodded, and he massaged her fingers. His skin was warm,
and she instinctively moved closer.
“Are you taking any birth control?”
When she met his eyes, a thrill shot through her at the
intensity in them. Why was he asking? Her heart began to race a little faster.
“Yes. I, uh, have an implant in my arm. It’s long-lasting. I have to change it
out every three years.”
“Good to know.” His voice dropped a notch, and he stroked
her face with his free hand.
She cleared her throat. “Niall, that stuff you said, about
feeling like you don’t deserve to move on? It’s all in your head. You’re an
incredible person. Of course you
deserve to.” She ached for him. She knew the extent of his passion; to punish
himself for so long was unthinkable. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to
Melanie?”
He exhaled and ran his thumb over her hand, then held it to
his chest like he needed it there. “I’d rather not talk about that now. But
someday.” A gleam of pain laced his eyes, and something told her not to push.
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“Thank you.”
He smoothed his hand down her arm, caressed it. His eyes
darkened as he leaned in, and his chest rose and fell a little quicker. She
wanted what he wanted, just as badly, but she knew she needed to be responsible,
conscientious. “Niall, no. We should stop doing th—”
He ate her words with his kiss, drugging her with his hot
mouth as he moved over her, cradling her face in his hands. He kissed her with
intense hunger, like he could never have enough, and the voice of doubt, of
guilt, that needled her, floated further away the more he kissed her. This was
certainly not Charles kissing her. This kiss contained passion, emotion, and
strange magic. No boy—or man—had ever kissed her like this. And definitely not
Charles. In fact, she couldn’t recall ever feeling this spark with Charles.
Her seat suddenly jerked backward, and before she could tell
who’d moved it, Niall was over her, pressing the hard line of his body into
hers as the seat reclined. His lips adored her throat, and he trailed a line
with his tongue, making her shiver, making her want him.
“Love, I won’t push you. But I have to touch you. I can’t be
this close to you and not touch you.”
Niall lifted his head, searching her eyes for consent. Lark
bit her lip and nodded before she could stop herself. He paused, then yanked
down his jacket and peeled off his shirt. She drew in a breath as she saw his
warm, muscular body, the intricate black tattoo above his heart. It looked
almost primal: a sun with a star in the middle. She traced it with her fingers,
curious about its origin. Niall’s eyes were ablaze as he watched her. He
roughly balled up his jacket and shirt and tossed them over the seat. Then he
placed his hand over hers, his eyes dancing with tremulous intent. With his
other hand, he undid the button and zipper on his tight jeans, and she eyed his
hardened cock, straining to get out.
A sigh of relief left him once his cock was freed from its
confines, and it jutted proudly out, tenting against the cotton of his boxers.
She wanted to touch him, to feel him. She spanned her fingers and raked them
down his broad, well-defined chest; first grazing his flat nipple, then gliding
them over his ripped abs, and finally lingering on the sharp V of his hip
flexors, which all but begged to be stroked. He caught her wrist and shook his
head.
“No. Don’t,” he said, his breath coming in quick gasps. “I
swear I’ll lose all control and take you this second. Right now, I want—need—this to be about you.”
Lark frowned and withdrew her hand, then met his gaze and
saw the blatant sexual appetite he was carefully keeping banked. A hot pulse
began in her pussy at the allure in his eyes. This wasn’t rejection; it was
delegation, and right now, she was the designator.
He bent down and pushed her shirt up and off, his knifelike
gaze never leaving hers. The intensity she saw in it told her he was about to
take her on a journey. He flung the shirt over her head. She leaned forward to
unclasp her bra, then shivered as her breasts sprang free. Her dusky-pink
nipples puckered as if they wanted to kiss his lips.
Niall groaned and moved forward, cupping her breasts and
seizing a nipple in his warm mouth, laving the underside with his tongue while
he caressed and massaged the other with his warm fingers. She breathed heavily
and held on to his shoulder. She carded her free hand through his impossibly
thick dark curls as he licked and sucked, teasing her with his teeth. She
undulated beneath his touch, wondering how it was that he could incite her so.
She wanted to lose herself in him. It scared her a little, how much she wanted
him.
She’d never known such a feeling before, had never
experienced anything like this with Charles, her one and only partner. She
frowned. She didn’t want to think about Charles right now.
Niall undid the button on her jeans. Lark kicked off her
shoes, then lifted her hips as he slid the jeans down her thighs, taking them
off. There was not an inch of skin that he didn’t touch, or a shallow breath
they didn’t share. His gaze roamed her body. She shifted beneath its intensity,
her self-consciousness rearing its ugly head. She sighed. Niall was such a
beautiful man. What would he think of her? She didn’t have to wonder long. His
breath warmed her neck as he trailed his nose along her cheek, and she felt him
smile.
“You’re exquisite, Lark. It’s all I can do not to take you
right now.”
She drew him closer, unable to tell him what his words meant
to her. She licked his neck; its salty tang left a spicy imprint on her tongue
she hoped would last forever. His words were like lighter fluid thrown onto the
fire burning inside her. She pulled him down and kissed him ardently.
His hands caressed the dip of her waist, went around to the
curve of her back, and then over her ass. She hooked her ankle over his,
desperate to feel him against her. Despite her prodding, he took his sweet
time. Though it must have been torturous for him to go so slow, she loved that
about him; how he mapped her out like a mystical mountain, worshipping her with
his lips, venerating her with his hands and teeth and tongue. Niall slid a
large hand beneath her panties. She gasped and closed her eyes, pleading with
him to hurry while she rotated her hips toward his touch. His teeth lightly
scraped her throat while his hand made a slow descent past the light hair on
her mound.
Lark bared her throat to him while she rubbed his back, his
bum, anything she could touch. His hand dipped into her pussy, and she opened
for him, letting out a little gasp as he moved his thumb over her clit and then
into the dewy wetness inside.
“Niall,” she murmured, then jerked violently when he thrust
two fingers into her.
“Do you like this?”
He began moving slowly in and out of her. God, their dream
sex did not in any way compare to the real thing.
“I love it,” she
purred. Desperate to touch him, she moved her hand down his chest until she
felt the unmistakable bulge through his cotton boxers. He sped up his thrusts,
going in deeper, and she fell back against the seat from her half-seated position,
too distracted by the sensation as her hips thrust in time with him. She slid
her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, and the moment she touched the
seeping tip of his hard cock, he bucked against her; his fingers inside her
became unremitting, pounding her. “Niall,” she whimpered. “Oh yes!”
He pressed his lips to hers, tender despite the burning
friction between them. He pulled back, and she looked at him. “Lark, I have to
taste you. Please.”
Lark searched his eyes. There would be no turning back, but
damn it, she wanted it, wanted him.
She slowly nodded, her insides dancing. Yes.
Hell, yes!
He drew back, the side of his mouth lifted as he yanked down
her panties. He took her legs in his hands and draped them over his shoulders.
She pressed her feet against the warmth of the console behind him and scooted
as far up the lowered seat as she could go to give him room to work.
“I’m going to open you up, Lark Braithwaite,” he said, his
voice low with desire.
True to his word, he spread her out like a sacrificial lamb.
He stared unabashedly at her body, taking his time. She flushed with arousal
and embarrassment as he made love to her with his eyes alone.
“Every single inch of you is perfect,” he murmured, trailing
his hand down along her inner thigh.
Lark squirmed a bit. It had been a long time since anyone
went down on her. Sex was always a way to destress after a hectic week, to
unwind or regroup; up until now, she’d never actually used it for her own
personal pleasure. Charles never had any interest in that sort of thing. She
watched as Niall moved his face closer to her dewy nether lips, then licked her
pussy from bottom to top with the flat of his tongue. She jumped. Hot blood
rushed through her core as her heart sped up. She moaned and closed her eyes as
he used his supple tongue on her sensitive clit, swirling around it like an
ice-cream cone.
“Look at me.”
She opened her eyes and sucked in her breath as she watched
him stretch her pussy lips to better expose her, lifting the hood of her clit and
working her aching nub with the tip of his finger as he alternated between
using his tongue and little licks along her entrance. She lifted her ass toward
him. It was too much and yet not enough. She bucked against him, all rationale
disappearing from her desire-clogged mind.
She slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from shouting as
he moved to suckle her exposed clit in slow drags, his soft tongue darting out
every few seconds to stimulate it. Her thighs were shaking. He stilled them
with his elbows. He reached up and pulled her hand away from her mouth.
“Don’t you dare be
quiet, Lark,” he growled. He blew a breath of warm air against her clit, and
sweet vibrations shimmered through her already oversensitive body. “Let me hear
you.”
“Oh!” she cried out.
He growled his approval and did it again before licking her.
His arousal pressed against her hand, and she squeezed him. He moved his hips
against her hold.
“It’s just you and I, love. You and I.”
He feasted on her, and she let him. Niall shoved two wonderful
fingers into her sopping wet pussy, filled her to the brim, and pumped them in
and out, driving her absolutely mad with lust. Those animalistic noises—were
they coming from her? She should be
embarrassed, but she was too far gone at the moment to care. Her body was on
fire, and all she wanted to do was crawl all over him. She let go and gave
herself over to the pleasure he wielded like a sword, gyrating her hips and
writhing into his face to get closer, closer to him.
Something told her she’d seek him out again and again. She
would never have enough of this man. He thrust deep into her just then, hitting
a particular spot in her back wall. Her body began to quake, sending delicious
shockwaves up her spine. She squeezed and stroked his hard cock, while he held
her captive to his touch. There was no escape. Then he curled his fingers
inside her, and an orgasm ripped through her. Niall watched her, his rapt
attention on her face.
Like an overfilled dam brought to the breaking point, her
nectar burst forth, and he lapped it up, his face buried deep inside her, his
hands gently stroking the undersides of her thighs.
Her whole body began to tremble. Tendrils of need were
rapidly growing inside her as she realized she wanted him. She wanted him to
take her, fill her, fuck her—anything. She just needed this itch scratched. As
if sensing a change in her, Niall resurfaced, breathing hard, his lips and chin
glistening with her essence. He moved over her with blazing eyes and dived into
her mouth, his tongue roughly claiming hers. She tasted herself, sweet and
heady, and she sucked his tongue, hoping he’d take the hint. He removed her
hand from his cock and laid it on her stomach, where he trapped it with his.
He groaned into her mouth and shifted his hips closer to hers,
yanking down his boxers and pumping himself against her. She released his
tongue, and he pulled his face back. All he had to do was say the word, and
she’d surrender.
He put his forehead against hers and dipped the glistening
head of his cock through her slit, gathering her wetness and rubbing himself
deliciously against her, bumping her clit with each stroke. She shivered at the
contact.
“I want to come on your pussy, Lark.”
Not what she had in mind, but she knew he was respecting
her, trying to assuage how she felt and what she wanted, as he’d promised. She
nodded, opening her legs wider for him, thinking he might want to watch her
pussy as he got himself off, as Charles always had. But he sat up a little,
ignoring what lay between her legs, and gazed instead into her eyes. She
breathed deep, locked in the depths of his vast, green eyes as he increased his
pace, his muscles tightening as he focused solely on her face, furiously
pounding his cock into his hand and grunting openly. It was the sexiest thing
she’d ever seen, made more prevalent by knowing he did it with her in mind. She
broke their stare and glanced down to watch him work his long cock. He was
bigger than what she’d grown used to. She licked her lips. What would he taste
like? His cut-off moan brought her attention back to his face, and she realized
she was licking her top lip. Niall leaned forward and braced himself on one
hand against the headrest above her.
“I’m about to come.”
“I want you to,” she said, her breath hot against his neck.
He kissed her on the lips and shifted a bit, then guided the
tip of his cock around her clit and pussy as he ejaculated. A bit of semen
splattered onto the edge of her hand, but she didn’t care. She raised her hips
as he called out her name and spurted all over her pussy.
“Oh fuck. Oh yes! Lark!”
He threw his head back, the tendons in his neck straining as
he released himself on her. She couldn’t believe this was all for her—his raw
passion, the evidence of his desire made manifest. Lark blinked the tears from
her eyes. He was beautiful.
“I like seeing you like this,” she admitted.
He relaxed his shoulders as the last of his climax washed
over him. He smiled down at her, then moved his hand over her mound, smearing
his essence all over her entrance. Without warning, he shoved two fingers
inside, and she arched her back. “Mmm!”
He put his mouth next to her ear, his voice husky. “I want
my seed inside you for the rest of the day. I want you to remember this,
Shakespeare.”
She put her arms around his shoulders and clamped her thighs
around his hand, not about to forget this anytime soon. Their lips met in a
slow, gentle kiss, and Lark laid her head back and tried to breathe. Panting
like a man who’d run a mile, Niall collapsed on top of her and laid his cheek
against her breast. She could feel spent liquid heat dripping from his cock
onto her, pressing against her thigh. Stroking his back with the flats of her
palms while his fingers stayed buried inside her, she kissed his sweaty
forehead and watched the wheat sway outside the car windows. The waving wheat
almost sounded like the ocean, the faint, sweet smell of it like a perfume.
Sated, she hooked her right leg over him and pushed back some hair that had
fallen into his eyes.
Blurb:
Dreams
are the perfect shelter for our fantasies, safe havens to step inside without
changing our daily lives. For Lark Braithwaite, all that is about to change.
During the last six months, Lark has dreamt of a mysterious Irish lover who
knows what she wants and gives her exactly what she needs. In her waking life
in busy London, things aren’t as ideal, as her long-term relationship with
Charles, her controlling fiancé, has hit a dry spell.
When Lark is called home to Oregon for her father’s funeral right in the middle
of a high-stakes corporate merger, she heads back to face the demons from her
past. What she doesn’t expect is to meet her dream lover in the flesh. Niall
O’Hagan steps straight out of her fantasies and right into her life, and the
powerful connection they share rocks her foundation. Although she's dealing
with the bitterness of being betrayed by Charles and his jealousy, Niall soon
stirs Lark’s awareness of the superficiality of her existence and reawakens not
only her sexuality, but her soul.
At
the Heart of the Stone Buy Links:
Books by
This Author
With Boroughs Publishing Group:
Sonnet Coupled
With Loose Id Publishing,
LLC.:
At the Heart of the Stone
Chicks Dig the Accent
The Costa Mesa Series
Costa Mesa 1: Batten Down the
Hatches
Costa Mesa 2: Toe the Line
Costa Mesa 3: Overboard
Social
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