Thylane Mosely was a little bit nervous as she pulled into the side parking lot of Foley’s Restaurant and Pub. It appeared an upscale establishment with glorified woodwork and wrought-iron bars along the windows as well as the double door entrance. Upscale, yet pub like. She didn’t know what to expect as she entered through the front doors pre-lunchtime. Irish music filled the air, adding to the authenticity of the pub and making her feel like she entered a whole new world. There were three men at the bar. Otherwise, the place was empty but gave her a clear feel for the place. The Irish music provided an instant setting for the pub and restaurant. Add in the custom wood, authentic memorabilia on the walls, and the one bartender with shamrocks on his vest, and, yeah, this was an Irish bar and then some.
There was upscale art throughout the main area, which surprised her. The intricate gold detailing around the edges of the art work was unique and added old world charm, while the feel of the pub was real masculine and inviting. This was no hole-in-the-wall bar. It was nice, and she liked it. She was drawn to the various memorabilia from Ireland, including an authentic set of bagpipes on the wall and weaponry of centuries past. One particular wall that led to a hallway was bare aside from one lone picture of a robust man in a suit with a very intense facial expression.
There was a sign to the left of the wall and, above the hallway, was a brass sign that said, Private, Club Members Only. So there was some sort of club? Interesting.
She heard the deep voice and turned to see a tall, thin man with a white bar towel in his hands. Not the first bartender she’d seen with the shamrock vest on. He eyed her over and smiled.
“Yes. I’m here to see Mr. Foley.”
“Of course.” He stared at her a moment too long.
She smoothed her hands along the slim-fitting navy blue dress she wore, and he seemed to pick up on her discomfort from him staring.
“I’m sorry, the name is Pat. I’m one of Mr. Foley’s bartenders as well as assistant manager.”
“Oh, nice to meet you.” She reached her hand out. He wiped it on the towel he held, then took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the top as he held her gaze.
“You’re a beauty, ya sure are,” he stated, and the sudden thick, Irish accent came out of nowhere. She squinted. That was strange.
“Come along with me. Mr. Foley’s been expecting ya.” He released her hand and brought her toward the hallway that said, Private, Club Members Only above it.
He knocked three times then two more before the door opened. She wondered if it were a coded knock and didn’t know why she had that feeling until the door opened. Before her eyes, a whole other bar and lounge area appeared, and it had multiple men at the bar and a few women serving drinks, dressed in tight, short black skirts and skimpy tank tops with clovers on them.
All eyes suddenly went to her when one tall, wide-shouldered, good-looking redhead came out from the end of the bar and looked her over. “Don’t tell me that you’re the artist,” he said in an even thicker Irish brogue than Pat had.
“Yes, sir, this is Miss Mosely.” Pat gave a wink when she looked back at him.
“This is the boss, Mr. Foley himself.”
Pat then walked away as Mr. Foley smiled wide, completely looked her over, and then licked his lips.
“I’ll have to thank me friend Brian for this one. It was he who organized this meeting and his idea of having a real artist do the mural. My goodness you’re a sight, lassie. Come on in. Can I get ya a drink?” He slid his arm around her waist and brought her toward the bar.
“Oh no thank you, Mr. Foley. I’m quite fine. I’m on a bit of a tight schedule today. Mr. Soyer mentioned you were looking for an artist.”
“Yes, yes, of course. So sorry, I’m sure someone as talented and professional as you are has a bit of a crazy schedule. Everyone wanting to snag you up and hire ya for work,” he said, lifting his lip in a grin and giving her a wink while also looking over her body. He was a flirt and then some, and he slid his arm around her waist and guided her back toward the doorway.
“Let’s walk into the main area. It’s a bare wall that I want to get done up special.” He guided her from the private room and back down the hallway to the main area. Sure enough, the site that her bare canvas would be was the one wall with the picture of the robust man on it.
“Ah, me grandfather, Riley Patrick Foley the second. A real prick of a bastard, but he got shit done,” he said, and she chuckled. “I’d like to have a portrait of him done in the center, not even as large as this framed picture here, but still show respect to him, ya know what I mean? Like maybe some details of Ireland and County Cork, where he grew up before coming to America and establishing this bar. I want realistic, not bullshit. Charlie told Brian that you’re amazing.”
“I appreciate that. I brought along this portfolio for you to take a look at. There are some samples of my work. I could also send you some copies of other portraits of people I have done.”
He opened the book and took a seat. “Please join me.” He waved to the bar. Pat brought over two mugs of dark beer.
“Oh, I’m okay,” she said, thinking it was kind of early for beer.
“Don’t be silly. We need to drink on this and be sure you’re right for the job. Look at the wall and tell me what you think. What your plan of action might be.” He turned toward the wall, giving a wave of his hand as if encasing the blank scene and waiting for her to instantly come up with ideas.
He was a character, but she got a good feeling about him, and she stared at the wall and the portrait. It didn’t hurt that the man was six feet two, muscular, good looking, and had one sexy Irish brogue and a look of danger about him, despite the smiles.
Pisces slid his palms up under her shirt.
“Slow. You need to get used to all of our touches and to learn to trust us.” He pushed her top up, and when she lifted her arms, he stroked them, bringing up the tank top and then restraining her wrists with the material. Her lips parted, her breasts fully exposed to him and Rusty.
“Oh God,” she whispered, and he looked at Rusty.
“Just a little exploring as we tuck her into bed for the night,” he whispered and then lowered down to kiss her lips, her chin, and neck as Rusty pulled off his shirt, revealing muscles galore and scars along his chest, on his side indicating his battle wounds.
She felt like her heart skipped a beat. Pisces’s mouth moved farther down to her breast as he released her wrists, only for Rusty to lean over and grip them with one hand, his scent, his cologne attacking her senses, and with her lips so close to his skin, she could stick out her tongue and take a taste. As fingers began to push down her panties, and Pisces’s mouth suckled against her groin, she tightened up and lifted her chin.
Her lips touched Rusty’s skin, and she tilted higher, kissed his muscles, and he tightened up and moaned. Actually moaned from her lips touching his skin. An encouraging reaction that suddenly had her relaxing until she felt her panties being pulled completely off and then a mouth on her cunt.
“Oh God, Pisces.”
Rusty lifted up. “Taste me. Put your lips on me, baby. Let go and let us pleasure you,” he said to her, his nipple and pectoral muscles within reach of her mouth.
The sensation in her cunt was making her moan, and then a finger slid into her pussy just as she opened her mouth and suckled on Rusty’s nipple. He gripped her wrists, and the material there was snug, and she lifted her torso and moaned against his nipple.
“Tug on it, pull hard. I like that.”
She felt aroused, capable, as she tugged slightly, unknowingly, until his moans deepened and she felt the hardness of his cock against her side. He was super large, hard as steel, like his body. She tugged harder, and he lifted up.
“So fucking delicious. Rusty, you need to taste her. She’s coming like a faucet,” Pisces said and then slid a second finger into her cunt and thrust a little faster.
“Oh,” she moaned out, tilting her head back, only for Rusty to now lower his mouth to her breasts and tug and tease her nipple like she’d done to him. She liked it, a lot, as he tugged harder and made her gasp a high-pitched sound. Simultaneously, Pisces lifted her legs over his shoulders as he lowered completely to his chest and licked her from cunt to asshole, making her cry out a release and come.
Rusty pulled his mouth from her breast, lifted up, and covered her mouth, kissing her tenderly. That kiss grew deeper, more erotic as they battled with their tongues for control and to taste more of one another.
“Taste her. She’s incredible,” Pisces said and eased from between her legs.
Rusty rolled over her slightly, crushing her body as he remained restraining her wrists but then lowered down, holding her gaze, his intense expression and sexy muscles filling her sight. She felt sexy, desirable, and turned on. She wanted to have sex with them. With all of them, even though Finlin wasn’t right here and Stack had disappeared. There were things to work out, discussions to be had, but right now with them kissing her, arousing her, nothing else existed but their scent and the feel of them so close.
He slid down, and she remained with her arms above her head, thinking they would like that, the submission Finlin had asked for earlier.
“Good girls get rewarded,” Pisces said, coming back up onto the bed next to her just as Rusty lowered down to her pussy, spread her thighs over his shoulders, and licked her from cunt to anus, back and forth.
She closed her eyes, tilted her torso, and felt her pussy leak. He moaned against her mound, and Pisces gripped her wrists and lowered over her mouth.
“Taste yourself on me. How delicious you are.” He kissed her, plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she indeed taste her cream, her scent combined with his. She moaned and felt her nipples harden, her pussy clench. Then Pisces hand slid down over her breast as Rusty pulled his mouth from her cunt.
“So fucking tasty, my God, ain’t nothing like a virgin pussy,” he said, and she felt her cheeks heat, but before she could comment, Pisces slid his fingers right into her cunt as Rusty lifted up.
“Stroke her good, Pisces, then let her taste how fucking delicious she is,” Rusty said, and Pisces thrust his fingers into her cunt and looked at her. The intensity, the arousal in his eyes was too much. She looked away. “Eyes on me,” he ordered, and she immediately looked at him, eyes wide, pussy clenching his finger.
“That’s a good girl. You’re so turned on right now, aren’t you?” he asked, stroking, thrusting fingers into her cunt as Rusty caressed her thighs and her hips.
“Yessss,” she hissed and almost closed her eyes but then refocused on him, making Pisces grin.
“That’s right. You’re so responsive and obedient. That’s a good thing, baby. It’s how it will be with us as our lover, our woman.” He pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought them to her lips.