Too Much? Never. In Defence of High Heat in Lesbian Romance.

There’s a phrase I hear sometimes when talking about sapphic romance:

"It was good… but the sex was a bit much."

Let me stop you right there.

Because here’s the truth: too much for who?

Too much for readers used to seeing lesbian relationships sanitised? Cropped at the kiss? Faded politely to black?

Too much for people conditioned to think intimacy between women should stay sweet, soft, and vaguely euphemistic?

Too much for a world that still struggles to imagine two women wanting each other with unapologetic, feral heat?

Then yes. Guilty as charged. Happily so.

But let’s unpack this.

🔥 Sapphic Heat Isn’t a Gimmick. It’s a Declaration.

When I write high-heat sapphic romance, I’m not just adding spice for titillation.

I’m claiming space.

I’m saying: women’s desire, especially between women, deserves the same raw, relentless, magnetic force we so often see in heterosexual or even male/male romance.

We’re allowed to ache. To hunger. To want in ways that are messy, intense, unfiltered. We’re allowed to crave without shame. To write orgasms without euphemism. To moan and shake and grab the edge of the bed just to stay anchored.

Why shouldn’t our stories set the page on fire?

💋 The “Too Much” Myth Is Built on Respectability

We’re taught, from the earliest moments of our storytelling lives, that female intimacy should be soft. Suggestive. Maybe a little flirty. But not too explicit. Not too loud. Not too dominant.

Because when women are truly unleashed on the page, it makes people uncomfortable. Not because it’s too graphic, but because it’s too real.

High-heat lesbian romance says: We exist. We want. We sweat. We come.

It shatters the lens of objectification and offers something else entirely: reclamation.

✨ High Heat Is Not Shallow

One of the most common misconceptions about explicit lesbian romance is that it lacks emotional depth. That high-heat equals low stakes. That if a character is moaning by chapter four, there’s no way the book can hold space for things like trauma, healing, or identity.

But let me ask you this: have you ever watched a woman unravel?

Have you seen a character, guarded and clever and composed, fall apart because someone finally touches her the way she’s never been touched? Because someone sees her, claims her, pushes her past all the walls she built?

That’s not shallow. That’s transformation.

That’s storytelling.

🖤 Why High Heat Matters in Lesbian Romance

Let’s be honest: queer women don’t often get the chance to be too much. In mainstream media, our relationships are either hinted at or tragically short-lived. Fade to black is the default. Passion gets implied, not explored.

So when a sapphic book says:

"Let me show you what happens when she takes control. When she begs. When she surrenders."

It isn’t just titillating. It’s revolutionary.

Because sex isn’t just about the act. It’s about who we become in that moment. It’s about power, trust, longing, vulnerability. It’s about what we hold back, and what we finally dare to give.

In May I Call You Mistress?, Victoria doesn’t just dominate Abby physically. She sees her. She strips away the stories Abby’s told herself about who she’s allowed to be. That erotic connection becomes the engine of change.

In Desire’s Truth, what begins as seduction turns into emotional exposure.

And in Darkness of Desire, the darkest cravings are often the most revealing.

High heat is not a gimmick. It’s a mirror.

But Does It Need to Be That Explicit?

Let me answer that with a question: Why not?

Why not let women be raw, loud, dominant, needy, unfiltered?

Why not let sapphic fiction explore rope and restraint, consent and control, and the beautiful, blistering psychology of it all?

Why not celebrate the full spectrum of female desire?

It’s not about writing for shock. It’s about writing without shame.

If we’re allowed to imagine love, we’re allowed to imagine the bodies that love lives in. The sweat, the sound, the ache, the surrender. And yes, even the moments when the words stop and it’s just hands and mouths and heat and need.

That’s where some of the best stories live.

✍️ What It Means to Be Seen

When readers write to me and say, "I didn’t expect to feel so seen by a sex scene", I know exactly what they mean. It’s not about the position. It’s not about the toys. It’s about the recognition.

Of want. Of agency. Of being allowed to take up space—in her arms, in her bed, in her mind.

And if we, as lesbian romance readers and writers, can give that to each other?

Then no, it’s not too much.

It’s exactly enough.

So no, high heat isn’t too much.
It’s honest. It’s freeing. It’s ours.

In a world that’s long tried to hush sapphic desire into softness or silence, these stories speak with moans, confessions, and breathless truths. They remind us that love between women is not just tender. It’s electric. Wild. Transformative.

And maybe that’s what scares some people.

But for those of us who’ve waited to be seen, to be touched on the page in all the ways that matter - emotionally, erotically, unapologetically. It’s not too much at all.

It’s finally enough.

With all my heat, heart, and gratitude for every bold woman who turns the page,

Love,
Ruby x