"Sizzling, Irresistible, Wonderful."
Lori Foster-New York Times Best Selling author

 

Each story provides a quick treat to spice up your holidays. The tales are entertaining… Steamy erotic sex scenes include mild BDSM, anal and m/f/m.
~ Romantic Times

"Cathryn Fox is the next Queen of Steamy Romance."
Julianne MacLean-USA today best selling author 

Peaches and Cream by Cathryn Fox

“My new guy’s member is enormous and my mouth is so tiny.” Tucked in the corner of Risqué, a members-only erotic club where Jennifer Angel bartended, Jennifer clicked through her in-box and read her messages out loud. Peeking over her laptop, she cast her best friend, Cat Nichols, a glance and said, “Jeez, you’d think spammers would have something better to do with their time.” She moved on to the next message and blurted out, “Okay, I don’t even have an erectile, so how can it be dysfunctional?”

With that, Cat laughed out loud. “Speaking of enormous members and erectile dysfunction, have you Googled him?”

Jennifer arched a questioning brow. “Googled him?” She kicked off her shoes, making herself more comfortable, and powered down her laptop. As she reached for her psychology textbook she asked, “Why would I google him?”

Cat spun her laptop around on the small wooden table top, closed the article she’d been working on, and said, “Go for it. You’d be amazed at what you can find out about people on the Internet.”

“Sam isn’t going to hook me up with some psycho, gun-wielding, knife-throwing serial killer, is he?” Jennifer narrowed her eyes and scrutinized her friend. “Unless there is something I should know about your husband.”

Cat chuckled. “Of course not.” She held her hand up in honor. “I promise you that he’s setting you up with one of the new research scientists who has just transferred in from the California branch. But go ahead and do it anyway. I Google people all the time.”

“Of course you do. You’re a reporter.” Jennifer flipped through her textbook. “I’m a fourth-year psych student, no need for me to Google people. Within five minutes of meeting him, I’ll have him all figured out.”

“Have you ever Googled yourself?” Relaxing after a long workweek, and needing something to warm her up on this cool December day, Cat reached for her wine and took a sip.

Jennifer cocked her head and offered her friend a devilish grin. “Uh, yeah. All the time. Which is why you insisted I needed a man in my life.”
Laughing, Cat nearly spewed her wine all over the laptop. “You’re such a smart-ass, Jenn.”

“It’s a gift.” Jennifer tossed her a lopsided smile and then turned her attention to her open book, going over last night’s lecture.

The ever persistent Cat pressed on, “Come on, just type his name in here, and you’ll learn all about your mystery date.”

Jennifer crinkled her nose and reached for her drink. The wicked gleam in her friend’s eyes worried her. What the hell was Cat up to? “Why can’t he get his own girl, anyway?

What kind of loser agrees to go on a blind date?”

“Helloooo, you’re going on a blind date, too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah but that’s different. I just don’t have the time to find myself a good man,” she scoffed and added, “Heck, forget good. Tonight I’d settle for a hard man.” Although good and hard would certainly be a bonus, she mused. The truth was, as much as Jennifer wanted to, between work and school, she just didn’t have the time to spice up her sex life-her very nonexistent sex life, save for her battery-operated toy, which she frequently Googled herself with.

“Besides, you and I both know what kind of deadbeat losers I attract,” Jennifer lamented.

“Which is the only reason I agreed to this setup in the first place. When it comes to instincts, I’m sure Sam’s are better than mine. He’s not likely to set me up with some jackass,” she said, putting emphasis on that last word.

Never one to let things go, Cat insisted, “Go ahead and find out for yourself.”

Needing to appease her friend so she could get some schoolwork done before her blind date called to arrange a time and place for pickup, Jennifer grabbed the laptop and tossed

Cat an impatient look. “Okay, okay, what did you say his name was again?”

“Jack,” Cat said, unable to keep the grin from her face. “Jack Miller.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes heavenward. “What were the odds?”

“But don’t worry, Jenn. Sam assures me he’s one of the good guys.”

Jennifer grinned. “Like I said, tonight I’d settle for hard.” She keyed in his name and gave a resigned sigh. “Oh well, at least this will give us something to talk about during dinner.” Since chatting about the weather was out-winter in Chicago hardly made for riveting conversation-this way she’d be armed with the basics.

After confirming that her impending date was a research scientist-an award-winning research scientist to be precise-who ran sexy experiments on the female libido, Jennifer suddenly felt a surge of heat between her legs. She made a slow pass over her bottom lip as her thighs fluttered. Eyes alive with curiosity, she scanned the rest of the article and then went on to study the picture of Jack Miller.

Dark hair cut short gave him a boy-next-door look, but the sexy grin curling up the corners of his sensual mouth, combined with the smoldering heat in his gorgeous blue eyes, told her he was anything but. From the picture alone she couldn’t tell what his body looked like, she’d have to wait until tonight to find out. As her gaze moved over his face, she fought back the urge to rub her hands in eager anticipation. Although something in her gut already told her this bad boy had a rock-hard physique that could torture her sex-starved libido in the most pleasant ways.

When she took a moment to entertain the idea, her body grew needy. Her nipples quivered and her pussy muscles tightened in heavenly bliss. Out of nowhere a burst of heat prowled through her, settling low in her loins. She clamped her knees and squeezed, merely adding fuel to the flames between her legs.

The one thing that Jennifer did know for certain was that there was something undeniably primal about Jack Miller that made her feel a little wild, and a whole lot wicked.

Once she finished the article, she gave in to impulse and decided to Google herself. Jennifer punched in her name, read the search results before her, and then rolled her eyes.

“Jesus, what were the odds?” she said. “I share my birthright with a stripper.”
Jennifer Angel, AKA Peaches.

Cat chuckled. “That’s one hell of a coincidence, Jenn. Just think, if Jack Googled you, and you asked him to pick you up here, he’d surely think that you’re Jennifer Angel, AKA Peaches.”

A little intrigued and a whole lot curious, she nibbled her bottom lip, wondering if her blind date had Googled her. If so, was he expecting a sex-deprived psychology student or an exotic pole dancer?

Her mouth twitched. Could a sexy mistake in identity lead to a night of wild, unadulterated sex, with Jennifer, AKA Peaches, living out her every fantasy?

How delightfully scandalous.

-Cathryn Fox
Avon Red Line, Harper Collins