Seducing Their Nun (MFM)

Unlikely Bedfellows 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 67,532
2 Ratings (4.5)

[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Historical Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, HEA]

Sister Margaret Mary comes home after her mother's death, never expecting to find a hidden past. Nor does she suspect that once outside convent walls, ingrained habits would drop like petals from a flower. Anyone who's known a girl away from home for the first time, out from under the strict gaze of her parents, understands her need to fly, to experience all life has to offer. But new desires—especially for her attorney, Jordan Parnell, and his friend, Mark Collins—are alien to the nun. She prays for a week of freedom, a week of feeling like a real woman. Jordan is captivated by Catherine Jacobsen's allure before he knows it. Then what? He may call her Catherine instead of Sister, but she's still a nun. Just when he believes that he and his best friend Mark can convince Catherine to forsake the convent, a terrible secret puts their future in doubt.

A Siren Erotic Romance


Jenna Stewart is a Siren-exclusive author.

Seducing Their Nun (MFM)
2 Ratings (4.5)

Seducing Their Nun (MFM)

Unlikely Bedfellows 1

Siren-BookStrand, Inc.

Heat Rating: Sextreme
Word Count: 67,532
2 Ratings (4.5)
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Cover Art by Harris Channing



Quickly taking her place in the pew, she barely had time to say a decade of the rosary before Father Samuels began Mass. The hour flew by before she knew it, and then she was at the door.

“Sister Margaret Mary, your habit looks as though you slept in it.”

She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Father. I will launder it today and take an iron to it.” She glanced into the parking lot. There was no Brendan Tipton, but no Jordan, either. Disappointment made her heart stutter. Well, she would rather walk than ride with Tipton again, but she would rather spend a few extra minutes with Jordan than walk.

“Tipton get you home all right yesterday?”

“Yes, Father.”

“I don’t like that he is showing an interest in you. You must make him stop.”

She must make him stop? She wanted to ask how Father Samuels proposed she do that, but she stopped herself in time from saying it. Then she’d have to confess disrespect to a priest. Her transgressions were building by the hour. “Yes, Father, although I’m not sure how.”

“The same way Eve should have dispersed the devil in the Garden. Tell him with firmness to leave you alone. The woman must always set the ground rules, Sister.”

What did he mean by that? Did he think she had any experience dealing with men? “Yes, Father.”

“There’s Jordan Parnell. I wonder why he’s here.”

A leap of joy replaced the earlier disappointment, and she jerked her head up to see for herself. Just as Father said, Jordan was striding toward them, his eyes on her. He smiled when he saw she noticed him, and there was no way she could keep from smiling back.

“Hello, Father Samuels,” Jordan said, holding out his hand.

“It’s good to see you, my boy,” the priest responded. “I’m sorry about your father. He’s sorely missed.”

Father Samuels had said nothing about her mother being missed or even acknowledging her death. For the first time, Margaret Mary had some inkling of what life must have been like for her mother, a disgraced woman kept by the town’s richest citizen, if his cars and actions said anything about Tipton.

“Thank you, sir.”

“What are your plans now that you’re home?”

Jordan cast a sideways glance at Margaret Mary and said, “Right now, my plans are to take Sister Margaret Mary home. I’m helping her with the inventory of her mother’s house.”

“That’s right. Tipton said so yesterday. I’m happy you came to get her rather than that—” He looked as though he wanted to say more. “Considering his relationship with her mother, it’s unseemly for him to show so much interest in her, too.”

“I don’t think we need to talk about that here or now, Father.”

Margaret Mary’s surprise at Jordan’s sharp tone focused her attention on him. The set of his jaw and the blaze of fire in his blue eyes were all for the priest. In her experience, no one spoke to a priest like that, but Jordan appeared unfazed. He seemed fearless.

“Shall we go, Sister?” He held out his hand, and without thinking, she took it. If Father Samuels thought anything of it, he didn’t make a sound.

Jordan led her to the car and opened the door on the passenger side. Minutes later, they were on the road, windows down and wind blowing wildly on her face.

“Do you listen to the radio at the convent?” Jordan asked over the sound of the wind.

“We used to listen to Bishop Sheen. Now Mother Superior hears the news and tells us at dinner each night if anything worth knowing happened during the day.”

“Would you like to listen to some music?”

“If you would.”

He turned a dial, and suddenly a man’s voice filled the auto with a cheerful song. “Dean Martin,” Jordan said. At the proper point in the song, right along with the singer, he belted out, “That’s amore!” Then he held out his finger as though keeping time and queued her to join in with the words at the next verse. By the time they pulled into the yard, she was laughing more than singing.

Jordan stopped the car and brought silence when he turned off the ignition. “I love the sound of your laughter. I was beginning to fear that nuns never smiled.”

“Oh.” As quickly as her laughter started, it faded away. “We spend a lot of time in prayer, and that’s very serious.”

“Isn’t there time for fun?”

She had to think. When had she last done anything she termed fun? “Teaching is sometimes fun. The girls say outlandish things that make the teachers smile. But I don’t teach. I help keep up the priests’ clothing and the altar cloths. I am part of the contemplative order.”

He stared at her in such a way that she felt uncomfortable. “Don’t pity me. I love prayer.” Then why have you missed doing it so much in the last couple of days? She couldn’t help but think she was trying to fool God, because at that moment, given the chance to sit and talk with Jordan or be on her knees in prayer, she would rather be with him.

“I wasn’t feeling sorry for you. I was thinking how sad it is that such a beautiful, intelligent woman should have missed so much of life.”




She came to him then, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Do you think we’ll go to Hell if we continue?”

He squeezed her to him. “I’m not a perfect man.” She raised her head and opened her mouth to speak. He quieted her with a finger to her lips. “No matter what you may think.”

“I was going to say that none of us is perfect.”

“Oh.” Deflated that she didn’t think him perfect after all, he mentally kicked himself in the ass. It was silly to be disappointed over something so petty when he held the most perfect woman in creation.

“But you are closer than some,” she said and placed her head back on his shoulder.

“Thank you for that,” he said dryly, and she chuckled. How much she had changed in the last twenty-four hours. She had blossomed like the wild meadow flowers.

“What I was going to say was that I’m probably going to Hell for a lot of things I’ve done. If I thought I was going solely for loving you, I’d have done it anyway. Feeling my cock deep inside your pussy, every inch of me touching every inch of you, feeling you grip me when you came—” He stopped and took a breath because he couldn’t go down that path with words without following them with actions.

“I have no idea what you just said, but it makes me want to go back to bed with you. You said we could do it again. Can we do it now?”

In answer, he tried to keep his heart from hammering out of his chest while he swept her up and carried her across the way. When he set her back on her feet, he whisked the gown up and over her head. She placed her hands on his hips and kissed him.

“I would marry you,” he said.


“There’s no need to wonder. I would marry you, right now. I love you as you love me, and that’s the difference between you and Emma. She might have loved Brendan Tipton, but he doesn’t have the capacity to love anyone back. He kept her, but he didn’t love her. You aren’t your mother just because we do what they did.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, they didn’t do what we did. We made love. They fucked. Have you heard that word before?”


“It means they had sex, but not like we have.” Leaning back so he could see her eyes, he said, “God wouldn’t deny you the chance to experience love, Catherine, or the arms of a man.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll never lie to you.”

She smiled, and he didn’t see a trace of regret in her eyes. Then she climbed into bed.

He picked up another of the condoms he’d left on the nightstand and tore open the wrapper. His cock throbbed when he slid the sheath over it. Soon, he hoped she would be interested in learning what pleased him with her hands and maybe with her mouth. But for now, he’d be happy just using her pussy, feeling her soft hands on his body, and taking her cries of passion into his mouth.

She lay with one leg spread and the other knee bent, foot flat on the bed. Because of the darkness she revealed herself, but she probably didn’t realize that his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see her breasts, firm and full, with wide nipples that screamed to be kissed. He already knew her torso to be long and supple, all muscle and soft, soft skin. Her legs were long enough to wrap around him and strong enough to help her buck against him when she came. And then there was her sweet face.

Though not beautiful by some standards, she could serve as a model for the Old Masters. Her features were perfectly balanced. Her mouth boasted full, lush lips, and her eyes held empathy in their light-brown depths. He had never seen eyes like Catherine’s.

But her eyes didn’t hold his attention right now. He reached out to touch her pussy. She rose up to meet his hand, practically riding his fingers. And she was wet, so wet, already. He couldn’t resist sucking her clit and tasting her cream. She held his head and pushed her hips up, asking wordlessly for more. When he finally climbed up over her, mind numb with lust, she had climaxed twice. His chin covered with her juices, he longed to kiss her deeply and give her a taste of herself, a flavor he’d already come to identify as pure Catherine.

His dick glided into her at the same time his tongue did. She sucked it greedily, just as she rose to meet his thrusts. He took her with a hunger no other woman had inspired in him. In only a few minutes, they came together. She clung to him in the strength of her orgasm, and it was all he could do not to crush her to him as he released his body’s power. Her pussy grabbed his dick, milking him of cum, draining his energy and yet reenergizing him. His power over her was nothing compared to what she commanded of him. And he gave, willingly, happily, to have her with him.


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