O'Gallagher Nights: The Complete Series (O'Gallagher Nights #1-3; Love In All Places #2) Read online

  There may have been loud conversation and music playing all around me, but the only thing I could hear was my breathing and the slight thump of my Timberland work boots.

  The closer I got to her, the wider her eyes became.

  Trapped, baby.

  I’ve got you trapped.

  Mia

  When Conor first caught me staring at him, I battled the need to leave. But then he sent the pretty waitress over with another drink. It was rude for me to leave then, even if I knew I wouldn’t drink it.

  I had a limit, and I was pretty strict about it. I had to drive.

  When the bar got crazy busy, I almost slipped out then. I wanted to be unnoticed. I wasn’t ready to ‘meet’ Conor. I had to come up with a plan!

  Unfortunately, I found myself glued to my chair and when Conor’s eyes found mine yet again when the crowd dwindled…

  I had been frozen to the spot, unsure of what to do.

  He stalked his way toward me now, black kilt hardly moving around his legs. My eyes traveled down, taking in his hairy but muscular calves, ending in short socks and tan boots. I brought my eyes back up to lock on his and sat up a little straighter.

  Did he recognize me? Did he know who I was?

  He finally reached my table and put a bottle of water down in front of me. “Your lager is probably warm and undrinkable by now.”

  His voice had deepened more in the last fifteen years. I mean, I knew it was going to happen. It had started well before the last summer I spent with his sister. But it was low and gritty, and it alone had my heart pounding behind my breasts and my pussy getting wet.

  I licked my bottom lip before bringing it in my mouth to bite gently. I watched as his eyes focused on the movement.

  I hadn’t been intending on the highly sexual movement to be anything more than a reflex of my nerves, but the way his nostrils flared and his pupils dilated… Shoot.

  “You like what you see, Curly Locks?” His eyes slowly moved from my lips to my eyes.

  So he didn’t know me.

  I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or embarrassed.

  “I do.” My voice held a huskiness I wasn’t aware I was capable of.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  Oh my God. This was happening.

  I hadn’t properly planned and wasn’t expecting anything to happen tonight but oh my God.

  It was happening.

  I shifted in my seat and tilted my head to the side. I guess I was going to have to play it by ear. With a mental shake and a deep breath, I brought out my best bravado. “Nothing.”

  “I bet I could turn your nothing into a great night.”

  He leaned into the table, his forearms resting on the wooden top and he lazily slid his bottle of water from hand to hand, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Well, he probably didn’t.

  He could have his share of women in this bar.

  “I don’t do threesomes.” I lifted my brows in challenge.

  “Ah, so you’ve heard about the other Thursday night special.” He chuckled, one side of his lips lifting with the movement. “I can work with that. You see, Curly, I’ve seen you here in my bar, by yourself, a few times now. And I’ve felt your stare. I think you want to go upstairs with me.”

  There were so many things my mind wanted my mouth to spit out.

  You know me.

  How are your parents?

  What has Brenna been up to?

  I’m really damn proud of you and Rory.

  YOU KNOW ME!

  But I fought to keep those words back. Instead, I focused on his intense gaze and ignored my heart battling in my chest. “So what if I do?”

  He winked and pushed away from the table before uncapping his water and taking a long, long drink from it. My eyes watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp. When he put the bottle back down, it was more than half gone.

  “Stay put and I’ll make your wildest dreams come true.” He recapped the bottle and walked back to the bar much in the same fashion he had when coming toward me.

  Proud. Confident.

  Cocky.

  Damn, I couldn’t wait.

  Conor

  I had been damn near positive Curly would leave in the hours between our chat and close, but nope. She sat at her high top, one leg crossed over the other, nursing the bottle of water I left with her. Sometimes she’d lean against the table, others she’d sit up straight. But always, her eyes were on me and my movements.

  I knew what women like her saw when they watched me.

  A man whom she considered was just out of her league. A man who would never take a moment to appreciate the plain shirt and jean-clad legs, hair in a mess of a bun, while women with perfect hair and perfect faces and perfect tits falling out of their hardly-there shirts leaned over my bar.

  But pussy was pussy. Tits were tits.

  And every now and then, it was fun to throw something different in the mix.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the clock before turning back to the last of the bar’s customers. “Closing time, ladies.” As was usual, I was the last to be in the bar. My cooks left at eleven; the last of the barmaids left an hour ago, and Stone left an hour before that.

  “What are you up to tonight, Conor?” a fucking gorgeous brunette asked me. Her eyes met mine, but not before checking out my junk.

  Not that she could see much of anything under the heavy fabric of this kilt.

  I was up, all right, but it wasn’t for this brunette. It was for the one who kept her heavy gaze in my direction, who kept licking her fucking pink, full lips. Kept drawing in that lower lip. Kept squeezing her fucking knees together as she sat with her legs crossed.

  She was just as impatient as I was.

  Most of the women generally were.

  The brunette at the bar leaned over as she pushed her glass forward, a twenty under it. Assuming it was to cover her tab, I took the bill and turned to close her out. When I returned with her change, she winked. “You keep it. But tell me, Con. How much does a girl gotta pay for you to take her virginity?”

  There was no fucking way this woman was a virgin. Not with how provocatively she dressed nor how strong she was coming on.

  Her girlfriend beside her giggled into her hand. Either she was a happy kind of gal, or she had one drink too many. Considering I always watched out for my customers and their limits, I would say she was a happy girl.

  “I don’t fuck virgins, sweetheart.”

  I reached over with my towel to wipe down the bar beside these two. My rule against virgins wasn’t anything bred from a terrible past or knowledge of horror stories of the whole deflowering process.

  Nope.

  Actually, I just didn’t think it was fair to the woman.

  I wasn’t there to coddle, I wasn’t there to make sweet love.

  I wanted to throw the woman down on the bed, rip her out of her clothes, and enter her without the preamble of foreplay and being sure she was ready. They were always mostly ready, some tighter than others, but always thick and hot and welcoming.

  The pain, the tears, the blood; yeah, no thank you.

  “Well, that’s too bad, sugar,” the girl said, pushing the change I just left her toward my end of the bar. “I’ll just have to come back. Have a good night, Conor O’Gallagher.”

  The women left, leaving only Curly Locks in the establishment. I flicked my towel over my shoulder and rounded the bar, grabbing my legal pad and Cael’s invitation on the way. I continued to walk toward the door, but addressed her. “You’re still game?”

  I looked over my shoulder, sure she would nod her response, and was pleasantly surprised to find she now stood near me. She grinned up at me, not looking nearly as naïve as I had pegged her as, and nodded. “Still game.”

  Looking down at her, I couldn’t help but feel that I knew who she was.

  It was something in her eyes.

  She looked strong yet slightly wary, a look I’m s
ure I’d seen a thousand times before. Maybe that was why.

  “Alright then.” I locked the front door and flipped a switch, turning off the neon advertisements and the “Open” sign.

  I couldn’t help but want to take her hand, but that wasn’t me. What was that about? So instead, I walked ahead of her. “Follow me then, Curly.”

  Mia

  I nibbled on my lower lip as I walked just behind him.

  Fuck, I was nervous.

  The entire time between now and when he had left me at the table with just a bottle of water, I thought about what would be happening tonight.

  I wasn’t a stranger to sex, per se. I had toys. I knew my body and was comfortable with it. Sure I was a little on the bigger side; my yearly biometric screening labeled me as “over-weight” even though I was about twenty-three percent body fat. I spent many years as a child battling my weight and finally as an adult, found a way to shed most of it. These days, I had muscle and was toned, but the pudge in my tummy and the extra under my chin when I tilted my head down… they bothered me.

  But I fought hard for my body and I was fucking proud of it.

  So yes, I was comfortable with my body and knew what got me off. At least, what got me off by my own hands.

  I had vibrators, dildos, and this fancy little toy that sucked and pulsed around my clit. But the actual penetration from a real, live penis was what was new to me, and I couldn’t help but be a little fearful for it.

  Tonight though… Tonight was my ultimate dream come true.

  I followed behind Conor as he walked toward the other end of the bar, flipping off the last of the lights. He pushed through the kitchen swinging door, hardly even holding it for me but for the tips of his fingers as he continued on through the kitchen.

  I slipped through before the door swung closed on my face.

  He obviously didn’t bother with sweetness or gentlemanly acts. Was this all part of his show? To scare away the girl who wanted that sweet gentleman? He wasn’t going to scare me away though. Nope.

  I quickened my step so I was closer to him, but only in fear that I would truly end up hit in the face by a door. At the end of the kitchen, he turned a corner and reached into a room to flip off the light. Before he pulled the door closed, I recognized the room as an office.

  Still, I followed him until we reached the end of this back room. After locking one more door, he opened up the last of them and reached into the hall the door led to. He flipped on a light in the hall, revealing a staircase, before turning off the light to the room we just cleared.

  Up the stairs we went, to what I assumed would be his apartment.

  Great observation skills on my part, you know.

  He opened the unlocked door at the top of the stairs. This time he waited for me. He stood against the open door, his back propping it open and his muscled forearms crossed over his chest.

  “You change your mind yet, Curly Locks?” His eyes were challenging me.

  I cleared the last of the steps and, chin held high, gave him a challenging look of my own. “Nope. No, I have not.”

  I slipped into the dark apartment in front of him.

  Conor

  Maybe I was wrong about this chick.

  She had a bit of a bite, and I liked it.

  I reached over to hit the switch, bathing the living area of my apartment in bright light. Stepping away from the door, I stood back and waited for the door to latch before moving toward Curly.

  “Grand tour,” I said, giving my general spiel with a heavy sigh. I tossed the pad and invite down on the coffee table before gesturing in the direction of the couch. “Living room.” I pointed to the kitchen, which was clear due to the lack of wall between the two spaces. “Kitchen slash dining.” I stepped past Curly, skirting my comfortable, well-worn leather couch, and headed toward the single hall in this place. Assuming she’d follow, I pointed to a door as we passed it. “Half bath.” I kept walking to the end of the hall, heading toward the only other door, and walked into the bedroom.

  This fucker was bigger than the living room and kitchen combined.

  I had a California king in the middle of the far wall. A leather ottoman thing at the end of the bed. A dresser. A huge ass television. Door to the attached bathroom. Nothing horribly special in there yet, but I wanted to at least redo the shower. Nix the tub.

  When Rory and I bought the bar from my parents, one of my projects was renovating the apartment above as well. Rory had his own place due to some investments he made in college, so I got to call the apartment my own. It had been a two bedroom with an office, and I wanted it to be a bitchin’ bachelor pad.

  Dream it, do it, you know?

  “Bedroom. Where the magic happens,” I finally said, turning to watch as Curly walked into the room behind me.

  Usually the woman would say something at this point, or start stripping—something—but Curly just looked around. I followed her with my eyes as she stepped past me, moving along the wall and taking it in.

  “It’s a bit big for just you, don’t you think?” she finally asked. She had stopped near the bed but turned toward me.

  “The room or the bed? The bed is sometimes too small.” I smirked at the memories.

  Four women. One at the head, sitting with her legs spread. Another between her, eating her out. Me eating that one out while on my back and another woman bouncing on my cock, my hands buried in the fourth’s wet, slick, bare pussy while she rubbed her tit and girl two’s tit.

  Good times had been had in this room.

  Good times.

  Curly looked like she was torn between shock and rolling her eyes. I liked the shock factor.

  “Strip,” I told her, reaching behind my head to pull off my shirt. No more talking shit. Down to business. I wanted her naked and spread on my bed.

  I had an ache in my cock that having her fucking eyes on me caused. All damn night, she stared. Every fucking time she bit that damn lip of hers, I got a little harder.

  It had been a long night downstairs, and I was long and thick to prove it.

  When my shirt cleared my head, I saw that she had done the same, leaving her in just those fucking skinny jeans and a bra.

  Her tits were fucking huge on her body. They weren’t the perkiest I’d seen, nor the fullest, but tits were tits. Her belly and hips were soft, but she had a small gem hanging in her navel, showing me she wasn’t one of those insecure girls who thought a little extra meat meant she was fat. The piercing proved it; she wasn’t afraid to show off her belly.

  I moved to sit on the bed, grinning to myself when she shifted at my nearness. I had a huge fucking bed and yes, I was going to sit next to her as I finished undressing.

  I leaned forward to remove my boots and socks. I stood again so I could remove the kilt and my black boxers from underneath.

  “You’re moving slow, Curly.”

  I dropped everything and stepped out of the puddle of clothes, standing bare in front of this curly-haired woman.

  I saw her rake her gaze over my body, lingering on my thick, hard cock that was pulsing and purple, straight the fuck up and down, needing a pussy to envelope it.

  Her fingers faltered at the button of her jeans. That’s right, Curly, I was fucking hung.

  The women loved it. Often I was told it was my best asset.

  And let’s be honest. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, so who the fuck cared if the best thing about me was my cock and what I could do with it?

  “Get on with it, Curly Locks, or else your jeans won’t make it home with you.”

  I liked nothing more than ripping clothes off a woman, and depending on the chick, I would do it without the warning I just gave her.

  Curly lowered the zipper on her jeans antagonizingly slow, but when I caught her eyes, I saw just a hint of mischief there. Girl knew what she was doing.

  She lowered them with a bit of a shimmy and when they were off, leaving her in her bra and, to my disappointment, plain cotton boy shor
ts, I grabbed her hips and pushed her back onto the bed. Her eyes flared wide for a moment but I dropped my mouth to the top of her tit, sucking and biting.

  She let out a breathy moan when my mouth continued its way down until my I surrounded her covered nipple.

  I sucked her into my mouth, my teeth gently biting down around the globe, and my tongue pressing against the pebbled peak there. I scraped my teeth back as I lifted my head, leaving a wet circle where my mouth had been.

  Curly lay under me, her hips moving against the bed but she kept her hands to herself. I needed more participation from her.

  “Hands on my cock.”

  I pulled down the fabric cupping her breasts and groaned at the sight of her erect, puffy nipples. Damn, I loved puffies. The way they felt in my mouth, an extra cushion around a pebbled, hard peak.

  Her hands finally grabbed me and in reward, I dove for her other nipple, sucking her deep into my mouth while my hands went to her underwear. If she were in a fucking thong, I’d rip the damn thing off her.

  Or pull it to the side and sink into her.

  But she was in fucking granny panties, and I had to actually remove the damn things.

  I suckled on her tit while her hands slowly moved up and down my shaft. My girth was my truest asset, and I could feel she had her hands locked together, completely covering me with her hands, as she moved up and down.

  I pulled back from her tit, allowing my teeth to bite down a bit harder than what could be considered gentle, and reveled in her open mouthed moan. Fuck yes, Curly.

  Sitting back on my knees, I covered her breasts with my hands, kneading and pushing the globes together then apart. I fucking loved real tits. Her hands faltered on my cock but that was ok. I pushed back, my hands still on her chest, until I was partially leaning over her. I moved my hands from her tits only so I could finally undress her fully.

  I pulled the offending cotton from her, leaving her bra on and under her tits, pushing them up, and groaned at the site of her bare pussy.

  With her curly hair and normal attire, I would have pegged her for all natural. Maybe bikini-kept, but not fucking bare as a baby’s bottom.