Didn’t make any sense at all. She was saved. April knew that she had gotten right with God, had received Jesus Christ as her personal Lord and Savio..., right? So, no, it couldn’t be the Rapture, not with Pastor Denny gone. She was sure that he and his heathen wife would be left behind, if anyone was. If anyone was less than Christian in their private lives, it was the pastor ... the very young pastor.Well, maybe that was the issue. He was just too young and immature, an easy target for the Devil. She was so sexy and there was something incredibly arousing about hearing his name on her lips as she climaxed. She fell forward and collapsed onto his chest. She felt sated, exhausted. She was still trying to catch her breath as he wrapped his arms around her, rolled them both over and pulled her back underneath him. She’d hardly begun to acclimatise to the new position when he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head. She gasped as he thrust into her completely in one swift singular. The warmth of that wetness starkly contrasting the iciness of the rest of it. ‘I’m so fucking happy to see you,’ she said kissing him voraciously.He poured her a gin with a wedge of lime. She had a sip and thought briefly about Botanics. The shakshouka simmered, tomatoes sensuously red, vibrant, redolent with sex. Everything was sex with him. His being, his brain, his heart, his cock made her feel perpetually on the verge of coming.He fucked her feministly. He was bold and assertive and. She had indeed been running. ‘Sweetheart, are you ok?’ I keep asking pointless questions. ‘No. No I’m not.’ She staggered out. ‘What happened?’ I was thinking the worst. Did someone try to rape her? Was she mugged? Did she witness a drive by?’ ‘I saw him.’ Fuck. That could only mean two people. ‘Who?’ Gentle, gentle. ‘My father.’ I felt the gush of tears on my neck, the warm liquid of her suffering, distinct from her sweat in its viscosity, and the acrid burn I felt tear at my soul. ‘Did he.
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