I'd probably burn in hell for what I was about to do.
As always, she knew what I was thinking. "Hate the sin, love the sinner," she urged.
"Don't tempt me," I murmured, as if it wasn't too late already.
My hands had been idle far too long. The soft fabric of her dress rustled between us as it slithered to the floor. I've always loved the feel of satan next to my skin.
ShoeStories™ by Claudia Lynch