Great Sex Requires Effort #sex #love #romance #weekendcoffeeshare


Just enough intensity …anticipating what will happen next …before diving deeper…visualizing just how …

love girl kawaii heart hearts

*This updated post from February 2017 now includes a link to a short scene I wrote*

Rekindling passion was part of my 52 Things In 52 Weeks challenge, that is, my passion for reading.

I signed up for a Kindle Unlimited because I’m always hearing about how writers should read outside of their genre and it seemed the most efficient way to have access to tons of books.

Mind you, I’m guessing my genre of writing fits into “women’s fiction” but I knew that I couldn’t go wrong with choosing books under the “romance” category. Or so I thought…

I think that the definition of “romance” may have changed when I wasn’t looking.

I started and stopped reading a number of books after just a few chapters, either because lots of Easter Eggs and back story were given away within the first few pages or because the book was simply a string of sex scenes strung together by an anemic storyline.

Call me old-fashioned but great sex scenes in a novel require more than sexually explicit words tossed carelessly onto a page. Or a bed.

In my opinion, writing a great sex scene requires effort, patience and some kind of love thrown into the mix in order to give the characters a happy ending.

That pun was totally intended! 🙂

But there was one e-book that had me shaking my head at just how quickly things unfolded and then deflated.

The breakdown of the book?

4% : Female character (FC) tells her boyfriend that she’s pregnant and the boyfriend dumps her.

6%: FC gets upset, storms out, has a minor accident and is helped by a sexy rugged stranger who takes her home because he lives nearby.

11%: FC tells sexy man her entire story and that she is pregnant. There’s a storm brewing so sexy man insists that she stay in his guest room.

13%: FC and sexy man fall into bed. He declares his love for her and tells her that he is ready and willing to love her and her baby.


All of that at the 13% of the book? Isn’t that a little quick? Where could the rest of the story possibly go?

I was curious enough to speed read through the rest of the 87% so I really can tell you where the rest of the story went:

Spiraling fast downhill until it crashed and burned.

  • No tense sensual build up between the characters.
  • No slow burn towards that first kiss.
  • No flirty moments between the two characters.

Nothing. Nada. Nein.

I’m not looking for the chaste vanilla of the Harlequin romance books my Granny devoured or the BDSM of Fifty Shades of Grey. There’s nothing wrong with themthey just aren’t my preference.

I can do without the 20 different words to describe the same body part and the blow-by-blow accounts of which body part went where and at what frequency…

I like my “romance” with just enough intensity between main characters that leaves me anticipating what will happen next between them. Romantic scenes that make me want to read and reread certain scenes before diving deeper into the book. Visualizing just how a scene would unfold in my mind.

Less is more.

And a little imagination is good for the soul.

Update: When I reread this post, I decided to write a “sexy” short story. Inspired by being on the beach, I started with one sexy scene and worked my way back to drafting a story line.

If you’re interested and over 18+, feel free to take a read via the link below.

*Mature 18+ content warning*

Straight, No Chaser

All Rights Reserved ©2017 Marquessa Matthews.



























“San Juan” (2015) #fiction #fictionfriday #love

credit to

A week from now, all of this would feel like a dream. Like it never happened.

The knot in my stomach ached at the thought of leaving this place. From the moment I set foot out of the airport in San Juan, it had felt like “home”.

I buried myself a little deeper into the chaise and stared out into the darkness. Close enough to watch the white foamy crests of the waves as they lapped in time with their gentle whooshing onto the beach. The night sky was clear and always filled with so many stars, something I rarely noticed at home among a sea of concrete high-rise buildings.

Was this the same sky or had I been magically transported into another dimension?

One more week.

The constant moistness of humidity on my skin, the left-over grittiness of sand buried in crevices of my toes from my daily walks on the beach, the headiness of the salt air lingering in my chest that made me feel free and happy – I would miss it all. I had sat many evenings like this one, just curled up in a chair outside, enjoying the warm soothing breeze with a homemade coconut smoothie in hand. And every night, the ocean never failed to wash away the day and grant me a fresh new one after I closed my eyes for the night.

Who in their right mind could ever get tired of all of this?

But tonight was a little different. I wasn’t on my outdoor chaise. I was enjoying a better view from someone else’s chaise on a rooftop.

I took a last sip of my mint tea, unfolded myself out of my chair and went over to lean against the railing. Was it past 11:00 o’clock? Yes, it had to be past 11:00. Time crept so slowly down here in the Caribbean. I wasn’t sure of how long I had been out there. But I did know that I should have headed back to my place a long time ago, before I got myself into a situation I would probably not regret.

“Where did I leave my purse?”

I muttered to myself and almost immediately felt the warmth of his body behind me. His strong hands circled my waist and he nestled his lips into the oh-so sensitive spot of my neck. He had excused himself to take a phone call and from the dampness of his hair against my ear, he had also taken a shower.

“You aren’t working tomorrow so why not stay here tonight?”

I smiled. I had to hand it to Alejandro, he was smooth.

I turned around slow enough as to not lose contact, his chest just inches away from mine, his hands still around my waist. He smelled clean and fresh. I was just making a mental note to remember to ask him about the brand of soap he always used when I realized that the only thing between us were my workout clothes and a bath towel wrapped loosely around his waist. I felt a wave of heat spread from the top of my head all the way down to my toes. I wasn’t uncomfortable, I was just taken off guard enough for my mind to go completely blank.

Those dark eyes, that chiseled chest and such a wicked smile – I knew that he knew exactly what I was thinking. I had the urge to run my hands through the wet curls that dripped onto his forehead but I kept my hands to myself, unsure as to where else they may glide if I did reach out. He grinned even wider and I almost hated him for it.

“Don’t worry, you can stay in one of the guest rooms. We could watch a movie. Or I can take you back to your place. Your choice. Though you know what my preference would be.”

My mind searched for reasons to leave but my mind remained blank of excuses.

How many other women had stood in exactly this same position as I was tonight? Did I even care right now with one week left in paradise?

I pulled myself together and leaned in closer to him, which was already almost impossible. I inhaled deeply, trying not to think of what would happen if that bath towel accidentally fell to the ground.

“Okay,” I whispered into his ear.

He tilted his head and frowned, not sure of what I meant. He cupped my face his hands. “Okay, what?”

“Okay,” I repeated.

Image and content ©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Originally posted on April 7, 2015.

Note: Writing 101, Blogging U – Day 2:A Room with a View

Today’s Prompt: If you could zoom through space in the speed of light, what place would you go to right now?
Today’s twist: organize your post around the description of a setting.








Would You Like To Read Kate’s Story? #fiction #weekendcoffeeshare

For those who are new to my blog, I’m currently working on edits to a draft novella, “Living To Die”.

The story is about Kate, a woman who is trying to seize each day after finding out that she is dying.   

If you would like to read the draft, please click on the link below.

Kate’s time is running out…

Living To Die

*Please leave all comments for “Living To Die” on its Page.*

Disclaimer: I have no copyrights to the song and/or video and/or hyperlinks to songs and/or videos and/or gifs above. No copyright infringement intended.

If you liked this piece and want to see more like it, please click on “Like” and/or “Comment” below and share with others who would also enjoy it. You can also sign up for my mailing list here to get the latest news from me. 


“Straight, No Chaser 2.0” #sensual #fictionfriday #weekendcoffeeshare

Photo credit: Michael Taggart Photography via / CC BY-NC

[This “sexier” scene is from a short story tentatively titled, “Hey Nia… It’s me, Anthony.”

What’s the premise of my short story?

Tatiana gets a 2:00am WhatsApp message from a stranger who is looking for “Nia”. Bored and unable to sleep, Tatiana decides to play the role of “Nia” until curiosity gets the better of her and she decides to meet up with Anthony offline.

I got the idea from a real WhatsApp message I received a while back with that very same message, “Hey Nia…It’s me, Anthony” and when I ignored the text, Anthony called and I decided to pick up. That is where the non-fiction aspect of my story ends but a story idea was hatched and I knew that title was a keeper!

Thanks to my beta-reader-newsletter-subscribers who gave great feedback on the “original” scene. I revised the scene a bit by changing their names, making him a “more typical and less talkative” man and adding a bit more context to round out the scene.

As you read on, please bear in mind that these two characters are not fully developed and that this story will have more “substance” to it than just sex like what I complained out in the other post.  Your feedback is always appreciated.]

 This is only an excerpt called, “Straight, No Chaser”.

*Warning – Mature content. If you’re not 18+, please stop here*

“Straight, No Chaser”

“Don’t we look sexy together Nia?”

We did but we would have looked sexier together if I had really been Nia… 

I had taken the situation much too far to tell Anthony the truth. It was too late for that and I wanted to throw caution to the wind for a little while longer…

Standing behind me in front of the full-length mirror in his hotel suite, Anthony admired the way my dress fit me like a glove. He was only half-dressed, his muscular chest still bare since he had yet to put his shirt on. He slid his hands around my waist and pulled me close, kissing my shoulders up to the nape of my neck. He nibbled on my earlobe and pulled me in even closer so that I could feel how aroused he was.

As we stared at each other in the mirror’s reflection, I knew exactly what he was thinking.

“We can’t…” I reminded him, trying to gentle extricate myself from his embrace. But he wouldn’t let me and I didn’t really try very hard.

He teased me by continuing to kiss my neck in that spot that always made my knees go weak.

“We’ll be late for the event…your event. And you’re going to wrinkle my dress.”

I thought that I had convinced Anthony to stop when I felt him take a small step back. But then I felt the zipper of my dress running down my back and the sensation of his fingertips against my spine giving me goosebumps.

“Anthony…” I whispered, enjoying the feel of his large warm palms caressing my shoulders. With one brush of both hands, my dress found itself pooled around my heels. He helped me step out of my dress, carefully picked it up from the floor and gently lay it at the foot of the bed.

“No dress, no wrinkles, no worries…”

His naked chest burned into my back and his hands circled around my waist again. This time, his hands slid their way up my body to cup my breasts.

“Mmmm…” I responded as he began to perform magic.

In the mirror, his eyes snaked over me standing there in nothing but my panties. I gladly conceded when Anthony turned my head to give me a deep kiss, our tongues dancing expertly together. When I tried to turn myself around completely, Anthony stopped me.

“No, not yet. I like watching us like this.”

Anthony’s eyes were fully focused on the mirror. I was already melting quickly into such a sweet abyss of pleasure that I wanted to skip the delicious entrée of his foreplay. I wanted to indulge on him as dessert or simply have him the same way he always ordered his drinks – straight, no chaser.

“We’re going to be late…”

“I don’t give a fuck! We can be as late as I want us to be. You are the only guest I’m interested in coming…”

Anthony ran one hand back to my stomach and used a finger to trace a hypnotic circle around and around my navel. Watching him do that to me in the mirror coupled with the intent in his eyes as he looked back at me set my body on fire.

“…coming to the party?” I mumbled in an attempt to finish his sentence.

I leaned my head back on his shoulder, closing my eyes and enjoying the tingling sensation of that simple movement of his one finger and the other hand that he still had on my breast.

“Uh huh,” Anthony grunted. “I’m interested in making you come before the party.”

As we kissed again, Anthony’s hands slid along my hips to slip off my panties. I felt his fingers against my back as he undid his zipper to push his trousers to the floor. Never once did he take his eyes from mine in the mirror.

Anthony finally turned me around, quickly backed me up against the wall, and crushed his body against mine. I felt his warm hands grab my thighs, hoist me up so that my feet dangled off the floor as he positioned himself at just the right spot. I released a loud moan when he slid into me at an excruciatingly slow speed and then stayed completely still.

“You can’t just do that and then stop…” I groaned in sweet protest.

Anthony said nothing and instead ran his tongue along my earlobe.

“You’re incorrigible.”

I bit down on my lower lip to hold back another moan. Closing my eyes even tighter, I arched my back, my body unable to resist the temptation of a slow steady grind against his.

“And you like it,” he whispered as his hips responded to mine. “Just as much as I’d like to hear you scream my name this time…”

With each exit and re-entry Anthony made, our urgency quickened to the rhythm of our moans.

“Mmmm…” I braced the back of my head against the wall and arched my back to match his rhythm. “This time, I’ll gladly scream as loud as you want me to…”

“Good. Open your eyes and look at me Nia.”

I did as Anthony asked and almost melted on the spot. I loved a man who could take control.

Staring into his eyes as our bodies rocked back and forth, it didn’t matter that Anthony believed that I was Nia.

It didn’t matter that he didn’t have a clue that I was at least 10 years older than him.

Nothing mattered except how electrified Anthony was making me feel.

We were both consenting adults and what Anthony didn’t know couldn’t hurt him…

Want to know more about the WhatsApp exchanges between Anthony and Tatiana? And why Tatiana would pretend to be Nia? If you would like to know when the full short story is available, sign up for the newsletter here.

All Rights Reserved ©2017 Marquessa Matthews.








The Baby Conspiracy #fiction #fictionfriday

Cry baby cry

Photo credit: via / CC BY

“Don’t do it.”

Her voice is a whisper over the phone.

Someone is probably in the room with her because she sounds afraid of being overheard.

“Don’t do what?” I am confused.

All I asked was how she and the baby are doing now that she’s been home for a few weeks.

“Have a baby. Don’t do it. It’s a trick. One huge conspiracy.”


“I’m telling you, it’s a fucking trick. All of your friends with kids encourage you to do it, tell you how great and rewarding it is. But it’s not true. They just want you to jump into that miserable, sinking ship so that you can drown with them.”

How am I supposed to respond to that?

“You’re just exhausted and have post-baby blues.”

Either she isn’t hearing me or she is simply ignoring my words. She continues whispering.

“It has to be a conspiracy because they all know awful it really is before you do it. They only tell you the fucking truth after its too late.”

Hormones, exhaustion and the weight of new mommy responsibilities all rolled up in one are taking their toll. She needs to vent to someone outside her family, someone who isn’t going to judge her for feeling unmommy-like.

Strangely enough, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard that theory from a few women in my entourage.

Is she right? Is there some kind of conspiracy going on?

As I slide my hand across my secretly growing belly, I’m no longer sure I want to put that theory to the test all by myself.

If you liked this piece and want to see more like it, please click on “Like” and/or “Comment” below and share with others who would also enjoy it. You can also sign up for my mailing list here to get the latest news from me. 

©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Originally posted on February 4, 2016

This fiction inspired by this article.








Don’t Feel Me Up #fiction #fictionfriday

Just leave me the hell alone.

You outstretch your nasty hands, touch me without asking, sometimes even go so far as to squeeze me. And when you do, it is always way too hard.

What the f*** is that all about?

Look, I understand that it’s Friday afternoon and that you are on your way home. I see that bottle of wine in your hand that you are going to pop open the moment you get home and slip into something a little more comfortable. You would like to start your weekend off right and taking me home would do the trick.

You could break me off. Piece. By. Piece.

Because I know I’m hot.

I looked enticing enough for you to approach me in the first place, right? Especially when I’m sitting here among all of these less traditional options.

But then, you have the nerve to tell me that I’m not hot enough for you to take home…

Fine. Like I said, just leave me the hell alone.

You aren’t the first person who has groped me this afternoon and you won’t be the last.

Someone will be forced to take me home if I am the only one left here before the shop closes.

I must admit, I am very, very guilty of groping a baguette or two on a Friday afternoon. 🙂 

All Rights Reserved ©2015 Marquessa Matthews.

Note: On a typical Montreal Friday afternoon, many commuters taking the train or bus back to the suburbs -grab a bottle of wine from the SAQ (liquor store), some cheese (Brie, Camembert) and stand in line at their favorite bakery for a baguette or pastries to take home for the weekend…#Montreal!



Photo credit: Julie70 / Foter / CC BY-NC-SA

©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Originally posted on August 6, 2015.