Grace was just a beautiful, young church girl in a pale blue dress... quiet, careful, clutching her Bible like a shield. But she kept walking slower past my porch each day.

Lingering. Looking.

Then she knocked.

Now she's on her knees, begging for what she says she shouldn't want. To be used. Ruined.

She thinks it's sin.

I think she was made for this.

Cherry Peach writes the world's hottest stories about good girls gone wild and the older men who can't resist them. When she's not writing steamy fantasies, she's probably biting her lip and dreaming up the next one.

Older men. Younger women. Hot sex.