Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... of that fake innocence and get to who she really was. Carlotta and what she did to his father had nothing to do with it. The key to boredom meant exploring the unexplored. His dick stirred at the thought of it. Climbing inside the limo, he had to shift to adjust himself. She looked over at him and smiled sweetly again. He chose to ignore it. Greeted by the polished smell of a new car, Aiden welcomed the icy cool air-conditioned breeze that blew the heat from his cheeks.

“Mr. Keane, that was so much fun! It was so beautiful. Thank you. It was very generous of you to show me the canyon.”

“Did you drive through Arizona on your way in from Kentucky?” He found himself uncomfortable with her gratitude.

“Sure did, but I was asleep mostly. Pete did the driving. I hate his car,” she confessed.

“Why is that?”

Daisy smiled, thinking of Pete’s clunker. He called it his love machine. She’d lost her virginity in the back of that car; it should be special to her. “Oh I dunno. It’s ugly and icky. You just have to see it.”

She rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, looking around. Finally she turned back to him. She saw he waited for the question. She didn’t ask.

“Aren’t you curious as to where I’m taking you?”

“Breakfast, right? Then back to the hotel in Vegas?”

“We’re going to breakfast and a hotel, yes.”

Her smile grew brighter. Aiden frowned. He expected her to be alarmed. He expected her to play the damsel: her thing was all this innocent bullshit. She ...

... sat back and relaxed.

“Cool. I’m starving.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Watch it, buddy!” grunted a short, potbellied man.

Pete kept going.

The casino had come alive. In fact, it was crammed with a noisy crowd, milling about even noisier machines. The people wore white shirts with some logo on the front, possibly a convention. Who gave a fuck? He didn’t.

His mind was a cluttered mess. The meeting with Keane's attorney had left him reeling. He returned to his room and read the contract. Read the fine print. He was such an idiot. Those assholes had it drawn as if he and Daisy initiated it. What had been done could not be undone. There was nothing left to do but wait. And if he had to wait, he’d get drunk as he could to make it through.

Pete sat at the bar in a corner seat before he realized he was off his feet. “Heineken,” he mumbled, pulling the bowl of pretzels down toward him. He popped some in his mouth, crunching, but tasting nothing. This time, the barkeep was Mexican. Different than last time. Good. He wasn’t in a chatter mood. The man pried the cap off the green bottle. Icy tears sweated down the label as the man slid it over. The cool barley taste was great going down, just what the doctor ordered. His eyes fluttered shut at the relief it bought.

“Hey. Pete, right?”

Pete swallowed. He lowered his beer and his eyes shifted to the voice. She stood there smiling, her blonde hair hanging over one eye. She wore a too-small pink top, cut horizontally in the ...