Aiden’s Game

Prologue

“Ow! Watch my head. Dang!”

“Ugh… geez. Over to the left, Daze…”

“Pete, wait. Give me… um, yeah… o-okay.” Daisy’s attempted restraint puffed out her flared nostrils. The sweltering heat, combined with a rising steam, fogged over the back windows. The cramped confinement gave her a little wiggle room, not much to work with. Pete’s thickness filled her to the point of discomfort. Awkward in her positioning, every dormant sensation along the inner walls of her vagina flared. Daisy licked her dry lips. She swallowed hard to force down the protest in her throat and decided to ignore the discomfort and wait for the pleasure their tryst was sure to bring. Pete’s bottom-maneuvers forced her to move with hurried hip-thrusts instead of measured swirls. Her unquenched desire drained her of patience. Behind tightly shut lids, her eyes tear. Making love took work: with Pete it always did. Daisy threw her hips to and fro before rising and falling on his jutting cock, seeking to accommodate his fit.

“So good…. Damn, Daisy. It’s so good, baby,” Pete grunted beneath her. His nails bit into the tender flesh of her buttocks. Sure, it was great for him; she was doing all the work. Daisy’s palms pressed flat against the roof of the car. It proved to be the only means to maintain her sense of balance. He was still in too deep, awkwardly bent in her channel. Each upward dick toss felt as if he’d crack her pelvic bone. Bracing for the next, while dropping one hand to his sweaty chest, she again tried to coax him into a manageable rhythm. It seemed to work. Daisy took quick sips of muggy air into her constricting lungs when Pete slowed, and she found her groove. She rose and fell on his meaty cock with a better ease. Up and down, his hips slowed and it was working for her. If only he’d let her get it in like this on the regular, she’d be okay. Pete was man enough. He had the right tools. He just needed to let her feel him rather than endure him. Daisy’s brows knitted together as she pumped hard. She knew what he liked. She put in work to ease her guy to the bliss they shared in sex. And her body, in time, welcomed the ride.

It was better this way. Pete would become too excited, too quick. Daisy would barely get hers before he beat her wounded sex into submission and shot-off in triumph. At least now she could ensure her pleasure too. Or she could make him hold on longer to deserve his. Her love for him made the labor worth it.

Pete’s mouth parted into a silent but gaping ‘O’ of pleasure. She couldn’t believe how little it took to get him excited. A touch or kiss on the cheek and he was hard as Gibraltar. She watched the play of emotion over his handsome face. A thin sheen of moisture coated his forehead. His short, shaggy hair, which normally covered his brow, was now tightly wound in locks the color of field oats. It was sexy when he was flustered and grunting beneath her. Even sexier were Pete’s eyes. Under blond lashes, his dreamy blue pair changed violet when desire rolled through and went clear as rain when he looked at her with love. She’d drown in those eyes if she stared too long. It was no surprise why the Doyle boys were a hot commodity in Hollow Creek.

Pete, like all the Doyle brothers, had olive skin tanned by the Kentucky sun. Growing up hard on a farm did that to most of the white men of Hollow Creek. And then there was his body. Pete’s muscles were taut, precise, solid as granite, and chiseled to perfection along his shoulders, arms, and torso. Each hard angle on her man was earned. Years of working side-by-side with his brothers had laid bricks down his abdomen. Daisy loved her redneck. She loved his body and loved his dick. She loved him and he loved her. Pete Doyle was every girl’s heart and angst in the Hollow. She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth while she slowed her pace, riding his dick nice and easy.

“C’mon baby, give it to me,” Pete grunted against her lips, his teeth clenched. His hands rubbed up her bare thighs and palmed her ass. They were shockingly cool against her now-feverish skin, especially compared to the sweaty heat of the vinyl seat. The loving got so good, she feared the friction of their working bodies would ignite, combust and explode. Daisy sat back, hands to Pete’s knees. She sped up. Her breasts undulated, stretching the thin cotton of her baby-blue Hollow Creek High t-shirt, nipples hard, aching for his touch. Her throat was too dry to ask for him to touch her; when her lips parted, all she released was a soft pleading cry. Pete could be selfish in how little he gave in return.

It was one of her many frustrations.

The ’78 Cadillac, with flaking paint and cracked upholstery, rocked on its road-worn tires. The bug-splattered windows—from the day’s travel—fogged over as sweat ran in streams down her temples and the bridge of her nose. The mixed grunts and moans of his desire and her mounting frustration continued. So did the frenzied bounce on his pelvis, grinding her hips on the landing, then bouncing again hoping he’d find her spot once more. Like a flash fire, pleasure and pain became one. Soon the car was flavored with the scent of their sex: intoxicatingly sinful, addictively sweet and exactly what they both liked. Daisy dropped one hand and pressed it flat to his chest. Pete’s labored breathing and the thundering beat of his heart played under her fingertips. For her part, Daisy enjoyed the glide but wanted more. Her heated channel went wet for it. She threw her hips front to back, worked him hard and rode him harder.

“Fuck yeah… ah! Daisy, don’t stop baby… ugh… don’t,” pleaded Pete. With an upward push of his pelvis and downward pull of her hips with his firm grip, he went deeper than she anticipated, causing her to cry out in pain.

“Jeessssuuuusssss, Peeeeet!” Daisy shuddered through orgasmic strike. Her heart was beating, sputtering in frantic jerks. But she gave him more. She increased her bounce. One of her knees remained painfully pinned between his hipbone and the seat. The other leg hung off the back seat, her toes bent awkwardly against the floor mat. The feel of him made her shift and groan as his upward thrusting set her teeth on edge. Again, Pete was animalistic with his loving, and she’d have to adapt quick to keep pleasure from morphing to pain.

Instead of complaining, she endured. She groaned with him, hoping to find her groove before it was too late. Pete’s hand shot up, and he gripped her breast tight, giving it a squeeze.

“Damn it, Pete,” Daisy winced.

Daisy knew it was too late now. His heavy grunts and jerks always preceded the eruption. She tried to soothe him, running her hand over the hard lines of his heaving chest. She dropped the other hand to the backrest for control, then lifted awkwardly on her pinched, numb knee, still trapped in its cramped confinement. Daisy positioned to pump his cock dry. It worked. His seed flowed like molten lava, exploding in ash and fire through hot squirts that torched her womb.

“Yeeeaaaah!!!” Pete grunted as if he’d scored a touchdown, pounding his fist at the back seat. “Hell yeah!” he wheezed.

It was over.

She felt the protruding veins in his dick dissolve to jelly. Completely spent, he grinned up at her. Daisy rolled her eyes. Lifting her hips, his cock pulled free and fell over to his thigh. It jerked through aftershocks and spasms, leaking, semi-erect.

“Where them paper towels at?” Daisy sat on his knees in a huff. Pete winced, cursing under his breath. Daisy dug in the dark for their bags stowed in the well of the seat.

“Lay here, on me, Daze. Damn. We just finished. Let me at least hold you.”

“Nah, we won’t make it to Vegas until sometime tomorrow, and I don’t want to be all icky.” She grabbed the soft roll and peeled off a sheet. Gripping the headrest of the passenger seat, she rose and wiped, then peeled more to clean him. Pete sat back, smiling. A wide Cheshire-cat grin split his face.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. We could’ve got a motel ya know.”

“Un-uh, we agreed to save every dime for Vegas. How much we got now?” Daisy asked, moving aside so he could lower his legs from the seat and give her room. She found her panties. She pulled them up. Then she dropped the wads of used towels into the little plastic bag she kept for trash.

“Four hundred and eighty bucks, oh and um, twenty-seven cents.”

“So what you think? We play the slots first? I saw on the travel channel that the machines fill up at night. They like work on a timer. In the big casinos, they spill in the morning. So we just check for the slots that look to have been over-worked and then we in.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Daze.” Pete yanked up his jeans, not bothering with underwear. “If that were true, folks would have caught on. The casinos would have lines that stretched all the way out of Nevada. Nothing in life comes that easy.”

Daisy’s eyes rolled under fluttering lids. Pete’s words stung. Even worse, Daisy knew he was right. Why couldn’t he just let her have her dreams? It was typical of men in the Hollow. If they couldn’t conceive it, there was no need in believing it.

“Where are we?”

“Casey, Nevada,” Pete said.

“Casey? Wonder what goes on in a town called Casey? Don’t seem like much of shit. Probably as dead and boring as the Hollow.”

* * * * *

“Yeah, maybe.” He rubbed the feeling back into his groin through his Wranglers. Daisy was the only girl he’d been with that could drain him until his dick and brain were both numb. Pete once told her that. She looked over and knew his cravings. He told her those too—often. He craved her. He’d do anything for her. This runaway idea was all hers. Pete reached over and touched her thigh, his fingers walking the curve.

* * * * *

How could he want to go at it again? Sex in the back seat of his car was torture. She ignored the ogling look he gave her and instead focused on the night outside the window. His hand dropped away.

“C’mon,” said Daisy, opening the car door. They’d driven off the highway into the desert on a dirt road that wasn’t on the map. Pete decided to park near decayed trees. This is where they’d crash for the night. She found it funny: in mid-July, the desert could be so cold, then dangerously hot during the day. The night sky drew her attention. It was as if the galaxy had exploded with stars, more stars than she ever saw in Kentucky. They twinkled like diamonds on black velvet, so beautiful and clear. Daisy knew it was a good omen.

“It’s cold babe. Come back inside,” said Pete. Finally, he too left the backseat.

“Lookit there.” Daisy pointed at a constellation she didn’t know.

“What is it, Pete?”

He walked around the back of the car. “Orion’s Belt.”

“Really?”

“Yep, that’s it.” Pete gave a one-shoulder shrug.

Daisy knew he wasn’t sure, but she liked making her guy feel like he was the smartest in the world. He had his ways of making her feel equally important. She hugged him and kissed him on the lips, rubbing her nose with his. “How about we snuggle out here for awhile, under the stars?”

“Get the blankets. I’ll fix a sandwich,” Pete smiled. He dug in his pocket when he spoke to her.

“You so greedy,” Daisy laughed.

Daisy rushed to the back of the car. She waited for him to come and unlock the trunk. She gathered two fleece blankets before slamming it down, hard. If she didn’t, the latch wouldn’t catch and it’d spring back up. She really hated his car. Pete called it Betsy. She had a different name: Piece Of Shit.

Her guy was inside again, rummaging through the cooler. He probably found bread and the ham to make him self, yet again, another sandwich. It was smart of her to stack up on cold cuts, chips, bottles of water and beer. Saved them money. Daisy went to the front of the car and snapped the blanket out flat to the hood. The Cadillac was longer than her full-size bed at home. And the warmth from the covered engine brought forth an unexpected comfort against the night-breeze. The desert was fragrant. The air filled with smells of soil and decaying cypress. She inhaled deeply, loving the tranquility and freedom of the outdoors.

“Pete, c’mon!”

Pete was out the car, stuffing his face. He plopped on the hood. The metal compressed as he gathered the blanket under his butt.

“Dang it!” Daisy cursed. She struggled to the crumbled fleece blanket. She hurried back to the car and got their pillows. When she climbed back on the hood with him, he had finished his sandwich and was polishing off his beer.

“You’re going to have gas eating that fast. I swear I’ll put you out of the car tonight if you do.”

Pete laughed. “You worry too much.”

“I love you. It’s my job to worry.” Daisy winked.

“Come here, sexy.”

Daisy climbed over him. Pete dropped back on the pillows propped against the windshield. Daisy found that she fit between his legs perfectly. She pulled the blanket over them. There was no other place she’d rather be. The stars flashed in the sky like Christmas lights. It was all so different from home. “We ‘gon’ do it, Pete. Get it all, huh?”

“You having doubts?”

“No, but Jessiemae said—”

“Fuck Jessiemae. I told you to not listen to that gossip-hound.”

“She’s my friend.”

“She’s a leech.”

Daisy bit down on the inside of her cheek. She wanted to tell him that it was Jessiemae that gave her the money to bail his crusty butt out of jail when he and Scooter got drunk and raced up and down Blackshear Drive. But she didn’t. It was Jessiemae that gave her the money for—for the one secret between them. The one secret that still made it hard for her to sleep at night. Pete had no idea how much of a friend Jessiemae was.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Okay? I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He gave her a squeeze. “I just don’t want you going and getting second thoughts. We stick to the plan. We get a thousand in Vegas and then we head to Washington. In Port Angeles I’ll get work, a good job. Hell, with the money I’ll be making with Ed, we’ll open your nail salon in no time.”

“What if we get more than a thousand?” she smirked.

“We stick to the plan.”

“But think about it, Pete. It’s Vegas. It’s not Hollow Creek. We could easily make ten times that amount with one pull. Or even more. I’m just saying we don’t have to think small. The sky’s the limit, you know?”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Daisy yawned. “You call your mom to let her know we okay?”

Daisy squealed when Pete squeezed her hard, which meant ‘no’. It was 2008 and there was a black man running for president, but no one told the town of Hollow Creek. You’d think she was Satan himself with a horn out of her ass for how his mother hated her. And her parents felt the same way about him. In fact, everyone over thirty in their town regarded interracial couples with disdain. She and Pete were only out-hated by the feelings the county and its residents had against gays. It didn’t matter. Nothing could separate them. Many had tried. All had failed.

“We can call our folks when we get to Vegas. We might have some news.”

“News?” Daisy’s lids lowered, weighted with fatigue. “You mean if we win?”

“I’ve already won. I got the finest, sweetest gal in all of the Hollow. Open your eyes.”

Daisy’s lashes parted a fraction. She blinked away sleep. Pete wiggled his finger. A diamond rested on it. She shot up, grabbed his hand and gaped at the solitaire. “PETE!”

“Will you marry me?” he asked, rising behind her.

Daisy pulled the ring from his finger. She eyed the tiny gem.

“It’s half a carat,” he whispered in her ear. “Cost me a pretty penny at Wal-Mart but worth it. Now give me your hand.” She held it out. Pete rolled the ring in his palm and slipped it on her finger. “Daisy, will you be my wife?”

Daisy couldn’t swallow the knot in her throat. She struggled with the word but managed a hoarse reply. “YES.”

Pete touched her face. He kissed her, softly. He drew her tongue into his mouth, sucking it, possessing it. “I love you,” he moaned within their kiss. Daisy giggled, kissed him once more then turned in his arms, resting on his chest. Her hand went back up for the ring inspection. If he’d asked her in Hollow Creek, she would have certainly said no, just as she did at the thought of being barefoot and pregnant and living in a trailer with him like most young couples their age did after high-school. But now, on the road, headed to their fortune and future, the sky was the limit. She’d be his wife and live the life she knew she was destined to have. Hell, she might pop out a kid or two after they made their way.

“We win big in Vegas, the first thing I’m going to do is replace it with a bigger rock. Like the one those stars wear in those magazines you can’t stop reading.”

“For real? I love it, Pete, but I do want a bigger diamond. Something with dazzle!”

Pete smiled. “I know you do.”

Daisy grinned. She dropped her head on his chest. Things couldn’t be more perfect. It was another good omen. When her eyes opened, she saw light streak across the sky. Her head shot up.

“Pete! Did ya see it?” Daisy squealed.

“Yeah, I saw it.”

Daisy closed her eyes and wished hard, harder than she prayed before the time she sneaked out of the back screen door and ran through the Jefferson’s backyard to meet him on the street. Sure, she was legally an adult then, but her parents never got the memo. Instead of telling them her plans, she left a note and stole away.

“You wish?”

“I did, and part of it has already come true.” She turned and kissed his chin. “I’m so happy.”

Pete pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Me too.”

They laid in silence, heads turned up to the night sky. Together, they drifted in each other’s arms, just as they did on the prairie back at Hollow Creek. Dreams. They had their own and ones they shared. Both were ready for the world and all the adventure Las Vegas would bring.

* * * * *

“Mr. Keane, the poker room has opened. The banker needs your signature, sir.”

Aiden Keane sat in a large leather office chair facing a wall of monitors. People from all walks of life passed over the screens. Thousands of guests pulled levers, turned over cards, placed bets in hope for the pay-off that odds predicted were well beyond their reach. His private security room to the back of his suite was a duplicate of the one in the galleys of his casino. A coin of solid gold, dating back to the 1800s, rolled from his index finger over each digit until it reached the pinky. Then he began to roll it back. Finger play. It was a sign. Aiden was restless.

“Mr. Keane?”

“That will be all.” He scribbled his signature and answered in a discontented voice.

A silence fell over the room, disturbed only by the soft sound of the door closing with Carlene’s departure. Aiden’s eyes, like the green ice eyes of his father, darted from one monitor to the next. Boredom. It was eating away at him like a cancer. Maybe it was time to leave Las Vegas. But wherever he went, boredom was sure to follow.

Aiden Keane was a self made man—a man of means. He owned three of the major casinos on the strip. The Shamrock was his latest and greatest, a contemporary 50-story casino-resort, with a 70-foot man-made mountain and five waterfalls. The Shamrock had two shopping malls inside, a golf course where former presidents played, and the largest winning casino in all of Vegas.

What does a man who’s done it all, has it all, acquire next? As Aiden stared at the fortune-seekers milling around his slot machines and game tables—like mice in a maze—he chewed over that question. The gold coin flipped, dipped, and rolled from one finger to the next.

Boredom. There had to be a cure.