Juice: The O'Malleys Book 1, contemporary Adult Romance

by Michelle McLoughney

  “I found her outside, nearly run over by this brute in one of those gas guzzling SUV type things. All fancy with dark windows and a sexgod called Rory inside. And then, to top it off my nipples got hard and I ran away. I’ve named her Duffy, it suits her doesn’t it?”

  “Whoa! Back up! Sexgodkittenbrutenipples? What the actual fuck!?”

  “Okay hold up,” Cass said, and put her palm up in front of Marie’s face.

  “First things first. Business. As in, we finally have some. Maybe a huge commission. I just got a call. I have an appointment with the O’Malley Executive Resorts, they are hiring an artistic consultancy firm to advise on the purchase of art for their Island summer homes. And we’ve got a meeting with one of the head honchos for tomorrow at eleven.”

  “Oh my God Cass, that’s wonderful.”

  Marie clapped her hands together and smiled making her beautiful face even more stunning. Wide blue eyes fanned with black long lashes, twinkled. Cass felt a rush of love for her best friend. She was so lucky to have her. “This could be it, honey. Our first big commission. This could really get me out of a hole, Marie. It could secure both of our jobs for the next year at least.”

  Cass didn’t miss the look of relief that flashed across Marie’s face, even though she tried to hide it. Marie was pretty shit at hiding her feelings anyway, and Cass loved her even more for it. But, it didn’t matter; she already knew that she just had to get this commission, for Marie's sake if nothing else. Marie had been her best friend since primary school, and her husband Mark had been made redundant recently. He had picked up some bar work, but they were still struggling. Cass had a collection of her own work that was selling well, but they needed all the consultancy gigs they could get too. Marie needed this, hell they both did and Cass decided then and there that she would do anything to make it happen. Even if it meant sucking up to an old coot with too much money, who knew nothing about art. Marie and Mark had helped her get through Harry’s death and all the shit that went with it. Not to mention supporting her after the sad demise of her relationship with her bastard ex, Jonathan.

  Marie had moved back in for a couple of weeks after Jonathan, staying with her at night and providing copious amounts of alcohol, chocolate, and an ear to listen when things became too painful to bear. The three of them had moved to London from Devon, two and a half years before. Three country kids dreaming of life in the big city. Cass gritted her teeth and made a silent vow to bag the commission with the O’Malley Resorts.

  “Now…back to the Kitten, the sexgod and the nipples, something tells me this is going to be good.”

  Marie poked Cass in the belly, balancing on her heels with a cheesy grin on her face. Cass moaned and buried her face in her hands.

  “Oh Jesus, get me some hot chocolate woman. I’ll give you every excruciating detail.”

  A half an hour and a lot of hot chocolate and marshmallows later. Marie was still laughing and shaking her head, as she wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes.

  “Cassidy Evans, it could only happen to you.”

  Cass twisted her lips into a sly smile and nodded.

  “He really was the hottest man I have ever seen, Marie. Knicker dropping stuff, probably a total egomaniac and a complete bastard to women though.”

  “Hey! Maybe not. Mark may be an out of work accountant, but he still floats my boat and he’s hot and handsome too.” Marie laughed.

  “Yes Marie, I am fully aware of his boat floating abilities. Hellooooo, we did all share an apartment for two weeks in Spain last year. The walls were so thin it was like being in the bed beside you two.”

  “How very dare you.” Marie spluttered trying to look offended.

  “What the hell does that mean, Cass?”

  “Well, either you were secretly training to be a jockey at the time. Or you like saying the words harder, harder, faster, faster, a lot. Like a lot….. a lot.”

  Marie blocked her eyes with one hand and one of her ears with the other hand.

  “I’m refusing to go any further with this conversation, forget I mentioned Mark’s purported hotness and promise to never ever mention this again. Especially not to Mark, who may take a fancy to the idea of your ear wigging on our sexual exploits and have some weird sexual fantasy about you. Ugh.”

  “Consider it forgotten my dear Marie, my therapist will thank you for never having to hear all the dirty rotten details again. It takes up half my sessions. She hates you both.”

  Cass got thumped in the arm for her trouble and made a drama out of rubbing and nursing it. Marie was serious though, about Mark, and they were a great couple. Mark was hot, even if Cassidy could and would never look at him in that way. He would always be ten-year-old geeky Mark Jennings, to Cass. Her first and most powerful memory of Mark, would always be him rolling spit balls and spitting them at the girls in gym class. It hadn’t surprised her in the slightest when Marie and Mark had got together. Mark always had puppy dog eyes for Marie and when he had stopped spit balling her, well, it was a dead give-away.

  Mark and Marie had taken Harry’s death hard, they were best friends and Harry had been like a brother to them both. The four of them had had their own little clique and now that was incomplete. Poor Mark had got stuck with the girls. Cass sighed and stretched her arms over her head.

  “Hhmm, Well I doubt I will ever see sexy Rory again. I’m sure we run in different circles altogether. I can’t really imagine myself on a yacht sunning myself in a string bikini while feeding him grapes.”

  “Hey, I can totally see you on a yacht with your big knockers held together with string,” Marie snorted.

  “Thanks Marie, I’d be so gay for you right now. If I wasn’t straight.”

  Cass grabbed her breasts and jiggled them as Marie roared with laughter.

  “Put them away for heaven sake, you’ll poke someone's eye out with those!”

  Cass spent the rest of the day on a high. She googled the O’Malley Resorts and read up as much as she could about them, for the meeting. Run by Gearóid O’Malley and his family from the west of Ireland, the resorts were the height of exclusivity. Second Irishman of the day, thought Cass. Maybe it was a sign. Red bloody flag, no doubt! Gearóid O’Malley, had set up the resorts in the 90’s building boom, as a getaway for the elite of the business and celebrity world. There were ten locations dotted around the world, from the Caribbean to America and two in Ireland. All on private Islands. Cass whistled and her eyes widened as she looked at the list of celebrities and corporate giants that were allegedly, on their client list. Everything was gossip and hearsay, apparently. The O’Malleys guarded their clientele’s privacy with a secrecy akin to Area 51. They had no need to advertise, their clients came to them, and after rigorous security and background checks were awarded entry. Gawd, it’s more exclusive than Hogwarts, thought Cass. The resorts were all copies of the original resort on Sherkin Island, a little island off the west coast of Ireland. They were made up of one large main hotel that housed only twenty guests at a time and a discreet smattering of staff cottages. The security was elite and watertight. All supplies were brought in by boat and each resort had a small runway and helicopter pad. The only photos she could see online were aerial views, taken by celebrity hungry magazines before high court injunctions were put in place to stop them. Cass slammed her laptop shut like a petulant child, she hated celebrity journalists. Her ex Jonathan, also known as ‘The bastard’ had become famous overnight when he had sold a screen play to a big movie production company in America. He had been plagued by the paparazzi, all trying to get pictures of him and strangely, her too.

  Cass shied away from the public eye, being more protective of Harry and his memory than wanting any exposure to enhance her own career in the art world.

  Not before she passed by a paper stand one morning and saw a particularly unflattering photo taken of herself at some negotiation dinner with Hollywood big wigs. Oh not at the dinner of course. No, no. Cass had waited like some sad fool in the f
oyer of the hotel and bought chips on the way home. She was photographed walking beside Jonathan like an errant puppy, happy for the scraps of attention he chose to throw in her direction. She rolled her eyes when she thought of it, Jonathan didn’t have any chips himself. No. He was too stuffed from the fillet mignon he had eaten with the big boys. But chips were good enough for Cass. Of course they bloody were.

  And that is the exact moment the flash of the camera blinded her.

  The headline pronounced, ‘Jonathan Smith signs million dollar deal’ and underneath read ‘Smith is accompanied by a buxom, busty redhead eating chips.’ The magazine had waxed lyrical about how famous Jonathan was becoming and Mused about how long it would take him to dump Cass for a Hollywood blonde. ‘A better model’, one of the journalists had said. The picture had showed Jonathan looking all sexy with his suit on and dumpy Mc Dump strolling beside him like a gimp, scoffing chips out of yesterdays’ newspaper. Oh Cass had laughed it off with Marie and Mark, but it had cut her to the bone. ‘A better model’ indeed. Knob head. Cass rubbed her jaw, a habit she had formed since the night he left. Damn it, why had she even thought about him. It had been over two years and she had healed physically, and well, she was healing on the inside too. It had been slow but she was getting there. The fact that she hadn’t touched a man since Jonathan made her doubt herself. Hey girlie. You’ll get back out there. Sure, why wouldn’t you be cautious after that sack of shit? She nodded to herself. Falling in love just wasn’t on her agenda.

  (Cass)

  Love thy self above all else.

  Irish proverb

  Cass woke with a jump and sat up poker straight in her bed. She was panting and lay back down on her pillows, wiping the sweat from the back of her neck. “Holy shitballs!” That was the hottest sex dream she had ever had! Mr Rory whatshisface was just as sexy in her dream as he was in real life. He had fucked her every which way and she had woken up in a pool of sweat so turned on and frustrated, she was still tingling all over.

  Hopping from the bed she headed for the shower stopping to put some coffee on and to check on Duffy, who was still snuggled up in her new pink wicker basket. Cass clasped her hands together and opened her eyes and mouth wide. She mouthed a silent and squeaky, “awwwwwww…look at her, cuteness overload!”

  Jumping into the shower she yelped as the water went from freezing to boiling, until it settled on warm. Cass let the flow of water rush down her body, and cleanse her soul. Okay, okay. Maybe not my soul, more liked cooled my bits. Okay? Trying for honesty here people! Soaping her big breasts, she tweaked her nipples into peaks and rested against the wall of the double shower. Rubbing herself gently between her legs, she paused to enjoy the rising feeling of sexual pleasure that was building within her. Moving against her hand and closing her eyes, she pictured Mister T naked in front of her. Mister T was her childhood crush and usually was good for an orgasm. But, for some reason it wasn’t working. Mister T had been replaced by Rory! As much as she tried to picture mister T, even running through a particularly good A-Team episode in her head, she just couldn’t escape Rory. Cass shrugged and closed her eyes imagining Rory naked. He was easily a foot taller than her and her fingers shook as she imagined reaching out and touching his chest. Sliding her hand down to cover his smooth tanned skin, she imagined tracing her hand down, down to just below his belly button and further still. She imagined the feel of the smooth hard ridges between his hips. And onto the Vee muscles. She snapped her head back. Damn, I can’t remember what they’re called, what were those muscles called!? She opened her eyes, shit, fuckin', something! There was a proper name for them, she’d ask Marie tomorrow.

  Cass pulled her hand away from her pussy quickly, why was she thinking of Marie with her hand on her frickin' snatch? Seriously inappropriate much! Okay focus, focus.

  Closing her eyes again, she let her mind drift back to the sexgod and his luscious mouth. In fairness, her mouth obsession knew no bounds. Lips, whether the owners were male or female could turn her on just watching their owners speak. And boy did Rory have some mouth. His top lip was lightly pencilled in a distinctive cupids bow and his bottom lip was full and generous. Perfection. Remembering his top lip had a scar across the top making him look both tough and angry, made her pussy pulse.

  Imagining his hands moulding and rubbing her breasts had her groaning aloud. She touched the showerhead to her clit and opened the folds with her right hand pressing the cold metal shower-head against herself. Reducing the temperature until it was cool; she moved the steel head against her pussy and moved her hips in a rhythm. Slow and soft at first and then quicker, quicker as she increased the pressure. She pressed her tits against the cold ceramic wall tiles.

  The cold hardness made her nipples stick out even more; the roughness of the tiles scraped against her and caused both erotic pain and pleasure. Reaching up into the small cupboard above the wall, she felt around until her hand grasped her pink dildo.

  Ah Mr T, come on down. Keeping her left hand on the showerhead; her pussy buzzed from the repeated hammering the high velocity of the water was giving her. She manoeuvred herself and bent down to sit on it, taking the head against her pussy and letting it slide in an inch. Oh fuck, yeah, that’s it; I’m taking your cock inside my pussy, Rory. Yeah that’s it, push it in, and fuck my cunt. She pushed it the whole way in, the full 9 inches of it thick and round. Cass liked it extra thick and had spent the last year becoming accustomed to it. She really had no other hobbies to speak of, which was probably a sad indication of the general direction her life had been going in recent times. Stop over analysing for fuck sake!

  She began to pat her pussy with the head of the shower as she moved and squirmed on Mr T’s thick cock! I’m gonna come soon, I’m gonna come, that’s it, fuck me harder, fuck my pussy harder. You big Irish bastard. Cass fell to her knees on the floor of the shower fucking herself. She used the wall as leverage and humped the dildo up into her pussy while moving the shower head up and down. The water gushed against her as she climaxed hard, panting and moaning. She lay there for a minute rubbing her breasts and clenching her pelvic muscles, slightly disorientated from the force of her orgasm. As she took the dildo from her satisfied pussy and cleaned herself up as she thought about Rory. Damn you Rorywhoeveryourare, thanks for that! She looked at Mr T, looking all pink and well-worn and felt a bit guilty after all his hard work over the past year. He had been replaced by a big Irish sexgod and was too dildo-like, rubbery and brainless to even realise it.

  “Sorry,” she whispered to him and grabbed her loofah.

  (Cass)

  May misfortune follow you all your life

  And never ever catch you.

  Irish proverb.

  Rory felt strangely anxious as he walked through the front doors of The Muse gallery. He wanted Cassidy that much he was sure of; he wanted her more than he had wanted any woman in a long time. Maybe ever. But, he wanted her for her ability and talent too. It would allow him to get close to her, to figure out what kind of a woman she really was. In a recession, it paid to show that you still had the money to add art and expensive furnishing to your resorts, it made the clients feel more secure. Looking around the gallery as he walked through, Rory picked up pieces of sculpture and glass that were beautifully presented in alcoves around the main room. She had taste; that much was evident from the paintings and the work on display. He knew quite a lot about art, mainly what he liked and what he had studied on his own time, but he wasn’t as knowledgeable as someone like Cass. He admired her own artistic talent too and paused to study a series of paintings that bore her signature. His brother Darragh had bought some of her paintings a couple of years ago, without even knowing it was her work. He marvelled at how life unconsciously drew people into each other’s lives, without them even being aware of it. He pushed Darragh to the back of his mind. His brother was the only one who knew that he had found Cass. And to say he was unhappy about the deception was an understatement. He was livid that his brother had u
sed his contacts to trace the Evans family, and wasn’t shy about letting Rory know exactly how he felt about it. Being the eldest of the O’Malley siblings, Darragh was also the most listened to and usually the most rational. He offered advice whether it was welcome or not and doled out the odd telling off, when he deemed it appropriate. He had told Rory in no uncertain terms what he thought of his plan regarding Cass.

  “You might have an IQ of 200 Rory, but you’re as thick as cow-shite when it comes to common sense.” Rory winced when he thought of it. Somewhere inside him he agreed with Darragh. But it was too late to back out now, especially since he had met Cass. There was no walking away from her now, not until he had got her out of his head.

  “Hello,” he called out, his voice echoed around the high ceilings. As was usual for Rory, he had arrived thirty minutes early. Admittedly it was a tactic. He liked nothing more than to catch people off guard, to put them off their game slightly. It was a negotiation tactic his dad had taught him, one that usually paid dividends.

  The place was deserted, but the door had been unlocked. What the hell kind of security is that for heaven’s sake?

  He heard laughter and voices coming from a room in the back and made his way towards it.

  “I couldn’t even finish the story Mar, who writes piss slit in a romantic novel for fuck sake? How is that sexy? He pushed his piss slit into her soaking wet channel. I mean, really!?”

  “Cass, it’s better than she creamed herself and he lapped at her cream like a starving man!”

  “This is true. Licking her cream, always reminds me of a yeast infection. Girl, get that shit looked at, yuck.”

  “Except for the prince song, Cream. Oh, I love that song, it makes me so horny! Get on top. Creammmmm.” Marie sang while shaking her ass at Cass who was standing on a chair replacing a light bulb.

  “Okay, I’ll give you that one. Although Get Off is a much better song. Now that is sex.”