Excerpt: Hadrian & Sabina: A Love Story

"You have not bedded your wife in how many years?"
The question was annoying, but as it came from Trajan's wife, the Empress Pompeia Plotina, Hadrian had to answer. "Four, I believe."
The two sat with Matidia, Sabina's mother, enjoying the fruits of mid-summer as they lounged in Matidia's private garden in the Palatine complex.
"She talks about you from time to time, you know," commented Matidia. "Much less so than when you were first married. She thinks you hate her and wonders if she should simply do the same."
"Why don't you two have some children?" suggested Plotina.
Like you and Trajan? Hadrian wanted to respond as he bit into an apricot. The emperor and empress got on fine, yet there had not been any issue from the union, and given her age, there was not likely to ever be. "Children just get in the way of appointing an advantageous heir and successor, don't you think mother?" he responded. "I think Germanicus would have agreed with me considering Caligula turned out to be such a failure."
Plotina ignored her adopted son's insolence. "At least, dearest son, you should stop cavorting with boys so publicly."
"Like the emperor has?" Hadrian countered, this time out loud, as he finished his fruit. "Ah, yes, but at fifty he has slowed down somewhat. There's far fewer boys in his bed these days."
Plotina shook her head, unwilling to argue with the young man. He was correct, of course, but he did not have to be so damn smug about it. "Hadrian, I am only asking you to have the veneer of conviviality with your spouse. It's good for politics, it's good for your career, and it's good for Rome." She stood up and draped a thin linen shawl around her. "Women are not so bad. I dare say you've already slept with one or two." She glanced briefly at Matidia before she turned and left.
Matidia watched her aunt leave, then rolled onto her back on the couch. "Sabina's a lovely young woman now, Hadrian. She might attract. You should have dinner with her. She is your wife." She tugged at and adjusted her clothing.
Hadrian took in his mother-in-law as she settled herself comfortably. The diaphanous fabric of her tunic and stola clung to her breasts and belly. One side of his mouth curved into a half-smile. If his wife looked as well as her mother did at thirty-six, he supposed bedding her over the next several decades would not be so horrid.
Matidia looked up and met his eyes. "You look like a hungry wolf."
He raised an eyebrow and nodded once. "And what would you do to stop me from eating you?"
Matidia felt a rush of heat pulse to her head. She sat up with intention and beckoned a servant. "Leave me and take the rest of the staff. I need to speak with my son-in-law in private." She watched as the slaves and servants exited the garden. She turned to Hadrian. "I invited you here to discuss your relations with my daughter, nothing else."
"And I should take marital advice from you?" he queried imperiously as he got up from his couch. "And which husband are you on this month, Matidia? Number three, or is it number four?" He stood behind her and leaned over. "I simply cannot recall."
"You cur," she hissed. "You will listen to me because I will tell Trajan that you are inconsiderate and disobedient. And I will have Sabina attest to that before her grand uncle." Matidia looked up at her son-in-law. He was quite handsome despite his arrogance, an attribute that had made her think her daughter would eventually become attached to him. His dark curls framed his angular face and set off his gray, almost blue, eyes. His beard, a feature Matidia thought she would never come to appreciate, was soft, not wiry, and invited touch. She reached her hand up to do just that, and stroked the dark hair on his cheek. She licked her lips in anticipation of what could possibly transpire next, since it always did seem to happen anyway.
Hadrian lowered his head and kissed her half-opened mouth, plundering her aggressively with his tongue as his hand found its way under her neckline to cup and squeeze her excited breast. Already she was panting like a dog in heat, wanting what she knew she should not have. With a twinge of disgust, Hadrian broke off and stepped away from the couch, turning his back to the woman.
Matidia stood up, adjusting her shear dress and overdress from Hadrian's rough handling before she went to him. He was wearing a sleeveless tunic on this warm day, baring his tanned and brawny arms. She trailed her fingers lightly from his shoulder down to his forearm, feeling the powerful muscles and tendons under the taut flesh. A tingling chill of desire swept through her. She was only eight years his senior. It was a shame to waste his fully-developed masculine attributes on such a child as was her daughter.
"Is she as wanton as you?" Hadrian asked, still not looking at her.
She dropped her hand. "You will have to discover for yourself." Her tone carried with it the disappointment of failed consummation.
Suddenly, Hadrian swung around to Matidia, grabbed her arm, and flung her against a nearby garden stele carved with the laughing, drunken face of Bacchus. She gasped when her back hit the cool marble slab. He held both her hands in one of his just above her head, as his other hand lifted the hems of her long garments. His knee forcefully separated her bared thighs and he tucked the fabric behind her buttocks. ...