Life as a preacher’s wife was as uneventful as Jill’s life as a pastor’s daughter had been, that is, until Dalía appeared. As devil possessed women are apt to do, she rips Mark and Jill’s marriage apart, leaving destruction and mayhem in the corners of their lives. Will John, the only one who can save them, sacrifice his own life to save the loving couple from certain spiritual death? That’s not what most people would expect from a fallen angel.
She loved the shower. Hot water poured down on her skin, flowing over her head, down her neck before cascading over her breasts. She couldn't help but drag the bar of soap from her throat down along the outlines of her breasts. The soapy feel of her fingers gently squeezing one of her nipples always sent shockwaves down her back to her hips. She could run her fingers all over the front of her legs, dragging the velvety bubbles into her crotch. Once Jill's fingers were nestled in her folds, she could not stop the want for more. Gentle touches to her lips felt so good she had to continue. More pressure kept the inspiration building. Her other hand always found a nipple, one waiting for the sheer ecstasy of her fingernails dragging gently over the rock-hard skin.
With her hips bucking with each stroke, Jill forced herself to be quiet, lest she awaken her husband who slept just a few dozen feet away. The pressure always became too intense to stop the orgasm like she promised herself she would. Turning her face to the water, she would lose control and allow the wave of pleasure to flow over her entire body.
Shaken and ticklish from the experience, she would carefully dry off and enjoy the last remnants of pleasure before she slipped into bed. Her husband was never the wiser.
"Forgive me, Lord, of those moments of transgression," she prayed. "Give me, please, the ability to be satisfied with my man."