Sister Mary Does A Faery : Fae Lovers, Book 3: (adult fiction, adult romance, adult stories, alpha male, erotic contemporary romance, erotic fantasy, erotic fiction, erotic paranormal fiction, erotic romance, erotic short story, erotica, erotica fantasy, erotica short story, explicit erotica, explicit sex, fantasy erotica, first time sex, literotica, oral sex, outdoor sex, paranormal erotica, paranormal erotic fiction, paranormal erotic short stories, sex stories, sexy adult stories, sexy books, sexy romance, sexy short stories, sexy stories, sexy stories for women, spanking, virgin sex)

Connor of the Fae is delighted at his unanticipated meeting with the lovely Mary but appalled to learn that the innocent young woman is contemplating becoming a nun.  Before Mary chooses a celibate life, Connor is determined that she should experience the carnal pleasures that she'll be forsaking.  And who better to teach her than the master himself.

**Please note that this is the third book in the "Fae Lovers" series. The series is available as individual stories or as a collection titled "To Play With The Fae - Fae Lovers Collection, Volume 1." The collection contains "Stranded," "Siobhan's Desire," and "Sister Mary Does A Faery."

READER ADVISORY:  

This is a novelette length erotic fantasy story (approximately 13,000 words in length) featuring hot, graphic scenes involving the magical Fae (also known as faeries - though most definitely not of the Tinkerbell variety).  Enjoy!

EXCERPT:

“Aren't you just a beauty!”  Mary exclaimed, squatting to snip the plant's tender bud.  She'd only seen pictures of this particular medicinal plant; Sister Petra would be delighted at her rare find.

Mary added the herb to her overflowing basket of pungent greenery then rose to gaze around the little gem of a glade that she'd stumbled upon.  God's own hand must have touched this isolated spot in the forest to have gifted it with so many useful herbs.

“I've never seen such a divine bounty in one spot,” she said, smiling to herself in satisfaction.

“Nor have I,” a male voice agreed.

With a startled squawk, Mary spun around, her basket of carefully-harvested plants flying.  “Where did you come from?” she exclaimed, eyeing the half-naked water nymph rising from the small pool at the center of the glade.  

Of course he couldn't really be—a water nymph, that is.  Everyone knows that nymphs don't exist.  But half-naked?  Oh yes, that he definitely was.  And gorgeous enough to easily pass for a creature of myth and legend.  

His chiseled features, the very epitome of rugged, masculine beauty, were framed in golden hair that flowed like a sun-touched waterfall down his back.  His torso, all well-defined muscle, was blanketed in warm, honey-toned skin.  Mary's mouth watered at the very sight of all that male magnificence on display.

“I've been here all along,” he replied, his hands idly stirring the water lapping at his waist.  “Doubtless you were too engrossed with your plants to notice me.”

Mary gasped, “My herbs!”  She gazed at her painstakingly-gleaned harvest now scattered across the ground and loosed a vexed sigh.  “Oh, look what you made me do.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in amusement.  “My apologies.  I shall, of course, assist you in gathering them up.”  Matching deed to word, he moved toward the edge of the pool, intent on exiting.

“Stop!”  Mary thrust her right hand out, while shielding her eyes with her left.  Peering through a sizable gap in her fingers, she demanded, “Where are your swim trunks?”  As the pool grew shallower, the head of the man's p*nis had breached the water like an eager periscope, making it all too clear that he was, in fact, completely naked.

He looked down at his bobbing member, his smile widening.  “I seem to have misplaced them.”

Fascinated by what she could see of his delectable body, Mary reluctantly said, “I shall turn my back while you get dressed.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” he murmured and began to move again.

Mary whirled around and bent to retrieve her basket, more tempted to sneak a peek than she'd care to admit.  As a foundling raised in Thistlemere Abbey by Sister Petra, Mary had had little exposure to handsome, young men—especially not of the naked variety.  She was, admittedly, curious.

“What's your name?” she asked, resisting temptation with admirable fortitude.

“Connor,” he replied from right behind her.  “And you are?”

Mary turned.  “Naked.”  Her eyes widened in consternation.  “You're naked.  Where are your trousers?” she blurted.

Flashing a rogue's grin, he leaned toward her and whispered conspiratorially, “I seem to have misplaced them, as well.”