Can I Come Over?(8)

Ryan



Letter Topic: Re: Re: Re: Fucking You (Via Sex Scene)

Dear Ryan,

I’ve copied and pasted what I currently have below. I’m also attaching a few drafts of the sex scene, just in case you want to compare.



My Hot Neighbor Sex Scene





“Can I come over?” Ryan asked. “Are you there, Bella?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Well, can we be adults about this and speak in person?” he said. “It’s not like I don’t know you after all these months of talking online.”

“We’re just friends, Ryan.”

“We should be more than friends. Tell me that I can come over. Now.”

I told him yes and took a deep breath, walking over to the door.

[Insert him being at her door and saying some nice things about her]

[He clasps her hand and leads her to the barstool in the kitchen, where he bends her over a stool and slowly fucks her from behind.] [Then they go at it again.]

Bella

What the hell?

I blinked a few times, certain that I was missing something. That she wasn’t serious about sending me a few notes and calling it a ‘scene.’

I’d never told her before, but I really was a fan of Bella J. Swan. I’d read every single one of her books, and I knew for a fact that this scene paled in comparison to the previous sex scenes she’d written.

Opening the other attachments, I noticed that they all read the same. There was just far more dialogue at the beginning and different words like “throbbing member” and “wet folds.”

So, she’s suffering from Writer’s Block.

Knowing that she was far too stubborn to ever admit it to me, I figured that the sex scene needed a complete overhaul was the wrong way to go.

Instead, I asked her to send me the rest of the “novel”—all one hundred and fifty pages of it, and then I printed it before making some much-needed changes.





SIX





Bella/Christina





I relaxed in my bathtub, glass of wine in hand. As my collection of sugar candles burned, I started thinking of ways to write my way out of the sinking shit-hole I’d created.

Three hours had passed since I asked Ryan for help, but he hadn’t said a word; his profile was completely offline. Not that this was his burden to bear anyway.

This was all my fault.

I honestly couldn’t afford to let another month go by without publishing something, so I figured I could publish the book as a “light chick-lit romance” instead of a short erotic novel.

I’d have to rewrite half of it, though. And wouldn’t my readers hate me if the book didn’t have any sex?

I considered hosting a “Help Me Write a Sex Scene” contest, but I knew that would never work. It would cause more questions and raised eyebrows more than anything.



Letter Topic: Our Sex Scene.

Dear Bella,

I’d like to imagine that if you and I were to fuck, that there wouldn’t be much talking beforehand (We’ve done enough of that), so I cut all but three lines of the dialogue. I also disregarded all the notes about ‘Ryan’ going slow and sweet because the first time he fucked Bella, he wouldn’t do it that way.

Also, you tend to under-describe the hero’s cock/not give enough of the heroine’s reaction, so you either A) Don’t feel as if it adds to the story (It does) or B) Have never seen one worthy of writing about.

I’ve attached a picture of mine to help you. I can’t write the description for you, but I think this should inspire a minimum of a thousand words.

Lastly, I’m not sure how you pick your book titles, but I think a better choice for this book would be ‘Can I Come Over?’ instead of My Hot Neighbor, but that’s only my opinion.

My Hot Neighbor Sex Scene





“Are you there, Bella?” Ryan’s voice was in my ear again. “Can I come over?”

I hesitated to answer. For months, I’d been talking to this man online, all to find out that he was always within reach, and I wanted nothing more than to let him fuck me. To submit to his every whim in the bedroom and get a taste of his cocky mouth against mine.

“Answer me, Bella,” he said, pausing. “Can I come over?”

“Yes…”

I walked over to the door and pushed it open, sucking in a breath when I saw that he was already here. Dressed in a dark grey T-shirt and dark blue jeans that hung low on his waist, he eyed me slowly—giving me a look that rendered me speechless.

His gaze was heated and primal, and he was leaning against the wall—glaring at me.

I stepped closer, my eyes locked on his—the silence between us saying it all. He’d admitted that he wanted to fuck me first, that it was what he wanted most.

Without saying a word, he stamped his mouth over mine and gripped my waist, pulling me taut against him. His lips overpowered mine within seconds, and I moaned as he kissed me, as he made me never want to kiss another man again.

Slipping a hand under my dress and between my thighs, he yanked off my lace panties in one smooth motion. They fell to the floor in a pool of wet silk, and he rubbed his palm against my bare ass.

Tearing his mouth away from mine, he pulled a condom from his pocket and handed it to me.