Forget Sweet Nuthin’s. Get Dirty with Me!
Okay, I have a confession to make.
I luvs me a dirty-talking hero. Like luuuuvs. Not Penthouse-Letters-who’s-your-daddy dirty but raw, erotic, hair-tugging dirty. There’s just something so…so primal about it. And honest.
I remember the first time I read a book with a dirty-talking hero. Lora Leigh’s Megan’s Mark. Turning to Chapter One, I had no idea what awaited me. Braden Arness—feline breed, intense, possessive, carnal, and sexy as—whew! And man, could he talk. At first I did a double take. Did he just…? I know he didn’t say what I think he…? But, oh boy, did he! I’m not going to lie. I was shocked. It was the first time I’d read where a hero used the *ahem* p-word. Yeeeesss, that word. And so easily. With confidence and swagger. Like, yeah, I said it and let’s not pretend you don’t like it swagger. Because it takes confidence in his sexuality and skill to tell a woman in exact detail how he wants it, how he’s going to give it to her, and how she’s going to take it. And love it. It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever read.
Whew, chile. Did it get hot in here all of a sudden or is it just me?
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not the words themselves that are hot. Well, not the words alone. It’s the emotion behind them. The intensity, hunger, and passion. It’s like desire has stripped the man of honeyed words and even thoughtful seduction, leaving the raw male animal beneath. Even if he is unable to voice the power of his feelings or need in other areas of his life, he can in the bedroom—or living room, or shower, or office, or car. It’s his most honest form of communication. And hot. Can’t forget hot.
In Secrets and Sins: Chayot, my newest release from Entangled Publishing’s Ignite line, my hero Chayot Grey talks dirty. He’s a laconic, tortured, brooding hero who seems polite, but beneath those suits, exists a man who is not-so-politely straightforward. Especially with Aslyn Jericho, a concert pianist, his neighbor, and the woman who has him yearning for things he doesn’t believe himself capable of giving. For example, when Aslyn flirted too close, not realizing the dark desire she stirred beneath his aloof exterior…
“Aslyn,” Chay growled. His hold on her waist tightened seconds before one hand gripped Aslyn’s hair and twisted the long ponytail around his fist a couple of times. He tugged, drawing her head back. Tiny bites nipped her scalp. Not enough to hurt, but enough to incite a hunger to straddle his hard thigh and soothe the hungry emptiness in her sex. “Do you want to be f*cked?”
She froze, slapped by the frank rawness of the question as well as image upon erotic image of being naked under him, over him. He would be gorgeous. All golden skin and lean muscle thrusting into her, pleasuring her. Yes. Yes, she wanted it. The slick skin sliding over skin, the dark groans, stroking hands, and gut-wrenching ecstasy.
“Do you, Aslyn?” he demanded again. “Because I could f*ck you. I could pick you up, carry you down the hallway to your bedroom, and lay you out on that bed. Or better yet, push you against the wall, strip off your pants, put my mouth on you. Taste you. Suck you. Make you come down my throat before working my c*ck into your p***y. I’d take you against that wall, Aslyn, thrusting so deep, riding you so hard, you’d scream my name as you came again. I can do that, baby.” He nipped her lip, soothed the sting with his tongue. “But it’s all you would get from me. It’s all I have to give.”
Somebody pass me my church fan, please! Some of my favorite dirty-talking heroes? Matt Dononvan in Staking His Claim by Tessa Bailey. Jace Crestwell in Fever by Maya Banks. Vic Savian in Wicked Burn by Beth Kery. And Alistair Caulfield in Seven Years to Sin by Sylvia Day.
C’mon and dish. Spill the tea on who’s your fave dirty-talker!
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