«The Monk's Lover» by Alana Church

Abiron and Ariana are working to convert Sister Angela and Brother Paul to the worship of the Deity. But time is running out. Gambling with their country's future, they decide to show the Christians how the common folk of Heklos live. But knowledge is a two-edged sword. How will two people sworn to celibacy react when confronted with the sexual freedom the people of Heklos enjoy? Anger, passion, and betrayal all mingle, and in the center of it all is the woman who will become…The Monk's Lover.

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

As they waited for the priestess to arrive, Paul looked around. Aside from themselves, there were very few people in the temple. A few women, ranging in age from his own to two or even three decades more than Ariana, were near the sacred fire. As he watched, a young man, no more than seventeen, entered. He was met by a novice and led away.

“This temple does not seem to be very popular, my lady,” he said. “Or is there a special time or day to worship?”

“We all worship in our own way, Brother. Those who wish come and go as they will. No one is required to attend a service.” Ariana smiled, amused by his ignorance. She opened her mouth to tell him the special functions the priestesses of the Deity served in this temple, then thought better of it. No point working the lad up with tales of our licentiousness, she thought. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here. Though Abiron had served her well and lustily over the past several days, this close to the sacred fire she could feel the Wanton rising within her. Her breasts warmed, and she felt a corresponding heat deep within her core. Unwillingly, she thought back to the sight of Paul, naked and dripping in the bathing pool. How sweet would it be, she thought, to take him, here and now. She clenched her teeth and fought back a surge of desire, moaning silently.

“Ariana! How wonderful to see you again!”

Her eyes popped open and she saw her old friend Pathia. She had changed little over the years. Shorter and more slender than Ariana, she had an open, expressive face and red hair that was a gift from some long-ago barbarian ancestor. With a cry of joy Ariana embraced her. For a moment, the Wanton fought free, and hidden from Paul's view by her body, her hand rose up and caressed Pathia's back. In turn, she felt Pathia's hand on her belly, stroking softly.

“Naughty, shameful thing,” whispered Pathia hotly into her ear. “Do you have time for a romp?”

Ariana closed her eyes and fought down the tide of lust rising within her. Canting her eyes sideways at the priest hovering nearby, she shook her head. Hoping that Paul had not noticed anything, she turned to him. “Brother Paul, here is my dear friend, Priestess Pathia. We served as novices together many years ago.” She turned back to her former lover with a smile. “Do you now lead this temple?”

“I do,” said Pathia. She walked to Paul, hips swaying lazily. Her entire posture was one of barely-banked sensuality. “But I always have time for a well-formed body such as his. You have brought me a lovely present, Ariana.” She brought her hand up and ran it idly down his chest towards his stomach. Her eyes were bright, pupils wide with desire.

Paul swallowed through a throat suddenly bone-dry. His legs shook. His body, which he had calmed for a time, stiffened with almost painful urgency. Unbidden, a scene came to his mind, of Pathia under him, writhing naked on a bed while he pinned her in place.

“Yes,” moaned Pathia. She smiled heavy-lidded into his eyes, and he knew she had seen his innermost thoughts. “Let's do that, shall we?” Her arms looped around his neck and she flowed up his body, body burning, mouth raised for a kiss.