Daisy - Sex Stories

Daisy

... mean ole Irish man. Someone hatched you.” When he didn’t speak, she opened one eye. Looking at him, she saw the hard lines return to his face, but he still held her hand.

“You serious? You didn’t have a childhood? Like Michael Jackson?”

“I was sent away from home at eight to boarding school, and then kicked out of there when my father died.”

“Why?”

“Just was,” he grumbled.

“Are your parents alive?”

“No.”

“They die young?”

“My mom died in childbirth. My dad raised me alone until…”

“Until what?”

“Until he killed himself,” he said flatly.

The plane dipped once more, but she ignored it. Turning in her seat, she rubbed his hand. Aiden looked down to her touch, then at her. “That’s awful, Aiden. I’m so sorry. Why would your dad kill himself?”

“Why do you care?”

“I do care. Tell me what happened.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Daisy blinked at him, shocked. His mood swings were exhausting. How any woman could put up with his moodiness was beyond her. “Wow, you really can be a cranky tough guy huh? You’re just a hurt kid inside—”

“Enough, Daisy,” he warned. “What you see is what you get. Trust me. It’s no act.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m over it.”

Daisy sat back in her seat. When she looked back at him, his eyes were closed. He sat perfectly still, but she saw he was anything but over it.

“The coin. Was it your father’s?” she pressed.

“Yes. From his private collection. I swiped it when I was eight before being shipped ...

... away. Good thing I did. The bitch sold everything off after his death. He made his fortune as a collector and trader. He went into debt by overextending himself. It’s all I have of him.”

“The bitch?”

Aiden refused to explain further. Daisy didn’t want the conversation to end on that note. She touched his hand, rubbing his knuckles. “How much is it worth?” she asked.

“To me? More than my hotels and casinos.”

“Thanks for telling me about yourself. I wanted to know about you.”

“I’ve never told anyone that story, other than Donovan.”

“Is he related to you?”

“No.”

“Why did you tell me?”

“You asked.”

Daisy smiled. His hand squeezed hers, and then their fingers intertwined. For the rest of the flight, neither of them let go.

***

Andy sashayed through dark doors into the red-light room. The sofas were black and soft, like velvet; the walls were a crimson red. Pete slouched on a center cushion with his head back and his mouth open in a silent snore.

“Drunk?” she frowned. She looked up at the camera, then back to her watch. “No, sugar, I need you awake for this party.” She walked over and tapped his face several times. Pete blinked awake. “Eat something. It’s still early.”

“I should go back to the hotel, sleep it off.”

“Noooo… you should stay and party. With me,” cooed Andy, winking at him. Pete put up his hand and tried to rub off his headache. “I don’t know…”

“Here, eat this,” she said. She put the burger to his lips. “It’ll make it ...