Page 72 of Peaches

I pull Grace harder against me, still a little consumed from the feel of her body once again against mine and the thoughts my comments provoked in both our dirty minds. Attempting to soften the sting from my hand by gently rolling my hips against her ass, I suddenly realize that was the worst idea ever because all that does is press my dick between her cheeks and make mecompletelylose my train of thought as it runs to places that would get me sent straight to hell, this erotic second, if anyone standing nearby could read my mind.

“I’d love that, Mrs. Presley,” I slightly stammer as I release my grip on Grace’s waist slightly. “But I don’t want to…” the tease in my arms takes the perfect opportunity as her mother is setting her purse down in her car to grind her fine ass back against me and send my thoughts spiraling out of control once again.

My mouth falls open as I’m suddenly at a loss for what I was even going to say as my dick hardens and I stifle a groan into the top of Grace’s head from both the sensation and the very difficult way I feel myself not being able to stop from getting strongly aroused standing in, may I remind you, a church parking lot.

“What was that?” her mother asks as she peers back over the hood of the car, but my head is clouded as the woman in my arms repeats the motion, succeeding in getting me fully erect, and I close my eyes repenting for the both of us and what we’ve started on holy ground as a groan falls from my lips.

“He’d love to,” Grace responds for me. A reply that gets my attention and has me forcing her slightly away as I look in her eyes completely unsure if that is the right thing to do.

For starters, it would be nice to know her mother’s name before I become a house guest. What is it any way with the women in this family not offering up the most common information in a normal greeting? Second, I don’t know the first thing about autism, let alone autistic adults. But what I do know is that I could royally screw up this guy’s routine from just being there, and that’s not the first impression I want to make, that is - if I am planning on sticking around to leave a second impression at all.

Third! And probably most important of all!

I can’t keep my hands off my peach!

After last night in Magnolia Cottage’s kitchen and only getting a taste of her damn peach pie, (sorry, couldn’t help that metaphor, thank you Marie), I’m still strongly lusting for the moment when I can steal her away and finish her off entirely. And that is not something that can happen at her mother’s house with her autistic brother in the next room. I may be horny as hell, but even I have rules.

“Grace, I…”

“Good, then that’s settled,” her mother interjects as I look up across the hood once again surprised. Grace takes that moment to slip out of my arms and sit in the passenger seat before I can respond.

Dumbfounded, and entirely not knowing how to react, I stand there with my mouth slightly open, and my cock hard as a rock, as her mother starts the engine and Grace rolls down her window.

“Most people eat fried chicken after church, but Momma’s famous for her Hot Brown.”

Hot what?

“We have to pick up Archie,” she continues, as I watch her put on her seatbelt through the open window and my mind goes blank not being able to think up any kind of coherent response. You know, something likenofor starters. “He should be ready to be released by the time we get there. Hospital is only downtown.”

So, the only big building I saw near Main Street that said Hospital on it? Geez, what would give that a way. I think that with the most damn sarcasm possible mind you. But that’s also less than five minutes from the church. No wonder Mrs. Presley, (because I still don’t know her name), didn’t miss the sermon on Sunday. If anything happened, she’d be closer to the hospital here than if she had stayed home. I know that now after last night and dropping Grace off over twenty minutes away out in the boondock Kentucky countryside.

I’m still processing everything that has suddenly happened in the last, say three minutes, and only realize I still haven’t spoken when they start to pull away.

“Grab your things and meet us at the house,” her mother says, leaning across Grace and looking at me through the window. “We shouldn’t be but an hour.”

The nervous feeling I got when I first shook Graces mother’s hand continues to grow now knowing I’m forced to stay with them, whether I like it or not. Like mother like daughter, I suppose. The way I just got a twist in my plans handed to me on a silver platter makes me think these two concocted this idea earlier and made sure to find a way to spring it on me when I couldn’t say no. I go to turn, to surrender, to find some courage to face what I honestly don’t really want to, when her mother calls out to me one final time. I glance back her way moments before she fully pulls out and onto the main street.

“And Brett,” she smiles, calming my anxiety slightly but nowhere near bringing my nerves back to normal. “Call me Trudy.”

Well, at least I can cross my first reason for saying no off my list. Problem is, I think, as I watch their taillights exit the parking lot, I still have no damn clue how I am going to handle the other two.

* * *

I walk upthe front steps to the quaint white southern house quietly. It seems important. Being quiet. As if I am attempting to harness and conjure up peace out of nowhere, I realize it’s something I honestly don’t feel at all like I have right now.

I look up as voices float my way from inside. A breeze blows past, making the screen door rock on its hinges as I glance into the shadowed hallway. Hushed tones drift my way across the late afternoon humid air, and I swallow over a lump in my throat, the one that reminds me of how edgy I feel, as I strain my ears to make out the voices once I reach the top of the porch.

“Twenty years in Gotham! How many good guys are left?”

My feet falter at the man’s voice from inside as I come to a halt and listen closely.

“Twenty years! Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!You’ve been lying to me!”

“No one has been lying to you Archie,” Grace says as footsteps come my way. “You weren’t in the hospital twenty years, and it’s nothing close to Gotham City. Besides, you had Green Arrow to protect you.”

Trudy’s face comes into view as her steps echo off the wood floors and I take a step back, cautious of what I just walked into. “Is this a bad time?” I ask, not knowing if maybe they need a minute or two to get her brother settled before I arrived somewhat unannounced. After all, he’s never met me, and I am not too sure how he will deal with suddenly having another male in the house.

“Do you know the oldest lie in America, Senator?” the male voice says in an animated way again as Trudy shakes her head at me signaling no, and smiles.

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