As her latest hot paranormal story, Furious Temptation, is released it’s Elise Hepner’s turn to answer some Impertinent Questions
What are the best and worst things about being an erotica writer?
The best part is the amazing, accepting helpful community of authors that I adore working with on a day to day basis. Most of the time it’s like a giant extended family when a deadline is driving me nuts. Worst is after five years of writing, trying to get creative when I’m not in the mood. It still takes some epic creativity every time.
What’s the most ‘extreme’ sexual thing you’ve written about?
Hmm… I’d have to say bloodplay, though I don’t consider that as extreme on the spectrum as other things.
Which fictional character do you wish you had created?
Every Kresley Cole heroine ever and Sleeping Beauty from Anne Rice’s erotic series
Some people think we all prance around in leather and lingerie cracking whips, other people reckon we are slobs in egg-stained tracksuits and completely unglamorous, which end of the spectrum would you say you were closer to?
Depends on what day — like today I’m sitting in my purple striped pj’s with Teen Mom 2 on for background noise (don’t judge me on my bad TV habits) and I’m about ready to write a scene where my heroine accidently took ecstasy and now she’s going to masturbate with a glow stick. Because, yeah, why not? But tomorrow I could be writing another typical bondage scene, asking my husband to help tie me up so I can get a lay of the land for physical positioning and what movements are possible in the bondage. I don’t break out the lingerie unless I’m really not in the mood, but I’m on deadline and the scene has to be done, just sayin’.
And now, get your preview of Furious Temptation…
For millennia Megaera, a Fury, has functioned as Hades right hand by passing judgment on demons who break the sacred laws. Stalwart in her moral compass, but harboring a curse triggered by rage, she walks a thin line between perfection and destruction. But when she digs into a case uncovering a string of demon rapes, she incites a war with Mount Olympus that could ripple chaos throughout the ages.
Omen Cole was demon made during the Civil War after repeated torture at the hands of his enemies. Sentenced to an eternity as watchdog over his emotionally frail, once human ex-wife, he’s haunted that he couldn’t save her from a brutal assault.
Now it’s happened again. And Megaera needs his testimony. Omen will sell his body—and anything else—to avenge his fragile ex-wife. If that means an alliance with Megaera, he’ll make it the most memorable of their eternity.
“Give me a chance, you won’t regret it. You want out of this situation as much as we do. It would be more than worth your trouble, I would guarantee that for you.” His fingers skipped across my collarbone until my fingers shook at my sides and I shoved them onto the edge of the bookcase behind me. I held onto the antique wood and pain twisted up my wrists. But he didn’t move back. His lips remained poised against my ear, our hair mingled, and his fingers danced on the only expanse of naked flesh on my body.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you know by now?”
I couldn’t see his eyes, but judging from his tone they were twinkling and bright with mischief. All the anger he’d been carrying, every stubborn action had been wiped away and replaced with misleading flirtation. And as much as I wanted to doubt him—he was good. Embarrassingly so. Omen’s every attention spanned into a gapping chasm of sex I’d all but put under lock and key. And then I swallowed that key. Yet his teasing voice, small bursts of air from his conversation, still licked across my skin in invisible caresses down my neck.
“Why don’t you tell me.”
If he was truly insinuating what I thought he was whispering in my ear under lock and key as my prisoner I wanted him to say the words. Because I couldn’t imagine he was desperate enough to make the proposition outright. While my fingers scrambled, I navigated the murkiness of my thoughts. If only he’d draw away. As if he meant to break me down bodily before making me take leave of my senses. With the knowledge of his manipulation came the tendrils of my anger that I’d been tamping down all day, trying to bank the embers. Suppression was a nasty business.
As sexy as he wanted this little meeting to be, I had a lovely secret weapon tucked in my pocketless skirt suit. My rage had never been my friend before, but if she would keep me from making a reckless mistake, right this second she was my BFF. Omen shifted as if he knew something between us had changed. Surely the atmosphere between us crackled with a different energy, one far more deadly than the reason I had wanted my hands wound around his neck.
“I’ll do anything you want, be anyone you want, if you give me this chance. Taking you into my bed would be far from a hardship. In fact, I’ll go farther. I can’t stop thinking about you beneath me. How well I’d love to treat your repressed little body so that my name echoes in your mind because you’ve been crying it out for so many hours. I’ll make this risk in the investigation merely a bump to get my attention, for as long as you’ll have me. And for both our sakes, I hope you keep me for a while. I don’t get bored easily.”
As his lies slid across my neck I did the first thing that came to mind. While he was lost in his seductive ploy, I lunged, wrapped my hand around his throat, and threw us both back onto the bed so I was straddling him, pinning both his hands above his head. For a beat I couldn’t recall whether or not my move was intentionally sexual or not—but here we were—and judging by his obnoxious smirk he had a fine idea.
But I only needed one hand to pin down his wrists, so I shifted in a blink and clasped my other hand around his throat, erasing his cocky expression, as if I’d drained the light from the room. His neutral expression held all the calculation of someone very, very careful. And though I’m sure he wished to, he didn’t move a muscle beneath me. Well, expect for the betrayal of his cock, which hardened between my thighs as my skirt rode up higher on my outer thighs and I tried my best to act as if I wasn’t enjoying our little moment together. I’d lose my high ground if I let the smallest moan slip. No matter how hard it was to ignore his pleasant pressure between my legs as his hard cock rubbed against my pussy.
I tried to remind myself I held all the cards when his gaze locked with mine. Neither of us spoke a word, waiting for my answer to his ludicrous proposition. He couldn’t be serious. Not when his charm and good looks got him in with my secretary as much as any other woman he’d seduced in his lifetime. I was one of many, of that I was certain. Even if he did look at me as if I was something special. And I’m sure he would have fought my silent accusations—if I’d given him room to speak.
“Even if for a second I didn’t see past your charade, Omen, I wouldn’t entertain the thought because it very clearly breaks several codes of ethics. But thanks, for the offer. I really, really appreciate it.”
With a look of smug wickedness I put emphasis into my words with every slow tilt of my hips against him as I held him immobile against his bed. His eyes flashed. Whether with anger or arousal I couldn’t care. Instead I slowly untangled us, tugged my skirt, and smoothed it with my hands. Omen lay on the bed as if I hadn’t gotten off of him. When he rubbed his neck with a few low noises in the back of his throat, I didn’t hold an ounce of guilt for my actions. Even if I still sensed him flush against my pussy.
“You still haven’t rejected my prior offer. Does that mean it’s off the table even without the incentive?”
“No. If it means making my job any easier I’ll allow you to see Claudette and follow your plan, but if it doesn’t work expect me to be beyond displeased. And you won’t enjoy me when I’m angry.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I think I can find many different ways to enjoy you.”
He half sat, leaning on his hands on the bed so I got a peek at his bare chest through the straining buttons of his button down which was rolled up at the sleeves. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t so gullible to fall for his act. No man had wooed me before now and none would unless a group orgy was involved. Granted, what Omen was offering was very one on one—but he only offered his body as a substitute for manipulation. By taking him to my bed I’d be belaying a weakness in my character.
And I had many flaws, but weakness wasn’t one of them.
I silently reminded myself of that as Omen straightened up entirely before wincing at the tent of his pants. I wish I could have felt sorry for him, but my mind was otherwise occupied with our more pressing problem. His erection would go away eventually and I would continue dodging his roguish comments so long as the investigation lasted. If he didn’t get sentenced for Claudette’s crime then the possibility of entertaining him in a less formal capacity in my bedroom slunk around in the back of my mind—but the likelihood of that was slim.
As if Omen read my mind he smiled but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“How do we proceed?”
Bio: Elise Hepner lives with her husband and two eccentric cats in Maryland. She spends the majority of her free time in her basement office concocting smutty characters and sinful situations that leaves readers satisfied. When not writing, she researches everything from automatons in the 18th century to gladiatorial rules in Ancient Rome. She prides herself on being an avid information hound as well as a blog reading addict–which is her favorite way to procrastinate. Her previous publications include books and stories with Entangled, Excessica, Xcite, Ellora’s Cave, Secret Cravings Publishing and Cleis Press.