Page 1 of Reverb (Larkspur Book 3)

Liam tugged his battered ball cap further down his brow, eyes darting back and forth as he made his way along the crowded Las Vegas street. The Strip was lit up in all its glory, lights shining so brightly it could almost be daylight.

He checked the map on his phone again and ducked down an alley, his pace quickening as he fought against the urge to check over his shoulder. A dumpster lid clanged, startling him before he berated himself for being stupid. It was only moments before he stepped out onto a quieter street and, with a last check of the address, switched his phone to silent and stuffed it into his jacket pocket.

He paused in the dim doorway of the apartment building, glancing up and down the street, but no-one gave him a second glance. Wiping his damp hands down his faded jeans, he rang the doorbell.

“Yeah?” a disembodied voice answered.

“Here to see Ives,” Liam replied gruffly. There was no reply, only the buzz of the door being unlocked. With a last look over his shoulder, he pushed his way into the dim lobby. The scuffed floor spoke of many feet crossing it in who knew how many years. The building, while not dilapidated, was certainly past its prime. Liam ignored it all as he walked up the stairs to the second floor. How many times had he done this in similar buildings in various cities across the world? He pushed away the thought and the self-loathing that came with it, which caused his skin to itch.

He reached the apartment he was looking for and tapped lightly on the faded painted door. He waited for a minute after the lock disengaged before entering. The hallway was lit by a small lamp, balancing precariously on a side table a few feet inside the door, barely breaking the gloomy darkness. A large black drop cloth hung across the hallway, blocking his view into the rest of the apartment. Not that he cared what was further inside.

To his right was a doorway, cast in shadow, with a dim red light shining from the room beyond it.

“In here,” a low voice said, and Liam stepped into the room. “Close the door,” the voice commanded, and Liam did as he was told. His heart raced in his chest, anticipation making adrenaline course through him. It was nearly as satisfying as the rush he experienced on stage two hours ago.

His eyes darted about the room, taking in the sparse furnishings, before stopping when they landed on the man sitting on a chair in the corner. Liam watched as he rose and moved towards him with slow, measured steps. The man was around Liam’s six feet, with broad shoulders. He wore low-slung sweats, his chest hairless, nipples pierced.

“Did Celine send you my signed NDA?”

Liam nodded, clearing his throat before answering. “Yes. Did she send you my latest results?”

“She did.” He reached out and trailed his fingers from Liam’s throat, down his chest, to rest on his belly, just above his belt buckle. “So, what can I do for you this evening, Mr. J?”

“Get me off,” Liam replied, suppressing a shiver at the touch.

“Well, that’s a given.” Fingers teased at his zipper, and Liam started to get hard. “Do you want to fuck, or do you want to get fucked?”

Liam’s breath hitched at the question, his stomach swooping. He wanted to be fucked. He wanted to be held down and pounded into until his brain quietened. But he couldn’t. Despite knowing that the very discreet agency he used thoroughly vetted their workers, he didn’t feel comfortable here. The only place he fully let go was in the safety of his own home.

A tight grip on his jaw, pulling his chin up to face the man in front of him, pulled him from his thoughts.

“Well? We don’t have all night. You didn’t pay for that.”

“Sor… sorry,” Liam stammered out. “A blow job. Suck me off.”

Disappointment flashed across Ives’s features, but he nodded his agreement.

“As you wish,” he said, sinking to his knees, fingers deftly unbuckling Liam’s belt and popping the button. The rasp of the zipper was loud in the room before Ives tugged at the waistband of Liam’s jeans and boxers, tugging them down to his knees.

Ives hummed in approval at Liam’s half-hard cock. He licked his palm before wrapping it around Liam’s shaft. As he stroked, Liam took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Relaxing his shoulders, his mind wandered, pulling on the memory of the adrenaline rush he got when on stage, the pounding in his veins as thousands of people screamed his name. He thought of the dark-haired guy who had been at the front of the crowd, who had gazed at Liam as if he was some type of god. He’d had smooth skin and pillowy lips that Liam had imagined would feel awesome around his cock.

As if he could read Liam’s mind, Ives’s mouth engulfed his cock, making him rock hard. Liam grunted as he surrendered to the sensation of sucking and licking. Ives alternated between suckling on the tip, using his hand to jack him, and taking him to the back of his throat, squeezing Liam’s heavy balls and massaging the sensitive spot just behind them.

Heat pooled in Liam’s belly, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. His fingers tangled in Ives’s hair as he slowly rocked his hips, fucking his mouth.

“Close,” he warned.

All he got in response was a moan, which almost sent Liam over the edge, but not quite. He needed something more to get him there. Reaching under his t-shirt, he flicked his nipple, sending tingles down his spine. Yes. Nearly there.

Ives took him deep one last time, swallowing around the tip of Liam’s dick, and he came. Pleasure rushed through him, and he took a gasping breath, squeezing his eyes tight, trying to hold on to the feeling of the endorphins coursing around his body. Please. Just a little longer, he mentally begged.

The feel of air on his damp dick pulled him back to reality, and he watched through hooded eyes as Ives smoothly rose to his feet, delicately wiping at the corners of his mouth.

“That was hot,” Ives said huskily.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry I didn’t last longer,” Liam apologized as he pulled his underwear and jeans up. His hand shook as he tucked himself away and zipped himself up.

“Pity you didn’t want more. I would have liked your dick in more than my mouth. I bet you fuck like a dream.”

Liam blushed and dropped his chin, fiddling with his belt buckle.

“Or,” Ives paused before gripping Liam’s chin hard and pulling his face up to meet his gaze. “Or maybe you like to be fucked. Do you like to bottom, Mr. J?”

Before Liam could reply, he was spun around, and his cheek was pushed against the rough wall. Ives leaned against him, breath hot against Liam’s ear. “You do, don’t you? Do you want me to pull these jeans down and stick my cock in your tight hole?”

Liam bit back the whimper of desire that threatened to escape. He couldn’t do that here. Not with this person.

“No. Let me go,” he ground out, pushing back.

“Pity,” Ives said, releasing him.

Liam turned back, straightening his cap. “Thanks for the blow job.”

“S’all good. Make sure the door’s closed on your way out,” Ives said, tone bored. “Let Celine know if you want to use me again the next time you’re in town.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Liam tugged his ball cap, feeling thoroughly dismissed. But, hey, what did he expect? This wasn’t anything more than a quick hook up in a semi-rundown apartment off the Las Vegas Strip.

He made his way down to the street, keeping his face averted, hands tucked into his jacket pocket. As he exited the building, he bumped into someone entering.

“Shit! Sorry,” he apologized, glancing up briefly before ducking his head again.

“No. My fault. I didn’t look.” There was a pause, and Liam took a step, hoping that was the end of the conversation. But no. “Hey, I know you.”

Liam gave a low chuckle. “I doubt it, man. Just a tourist.”

“No, I do.” An insistent hand tugged at his sleeve, but he pulled away and started walking.

“Sorry. Mistaken identity.”

With that, he walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a run, forcing himself not to look back and see if the guy was still there. He reached the safety of an alley and half-collapsed against the rough brick wall.

Running a shaking hand along his jaw, he winced when his fingers ran over a sensitive spot. Pulling out his phone, he switched the camera function to selfie mode, cursing softly at the faint red mark just above his chin. He prodded it with a finger, hoping it would be gone by the morning and not bruise.

The sound of laughter echoed down the alleyway, and he glanced towards the opposite end from where he stood. The sidewalk was teeming with people, and a fine sweat broke out up his back. He took a deep breath, trying to push the panic away. Any endorphins he’d had from his orgasm were now gone, like petals on a breeze.

Fuck! He needed to get away from here. He needed to get back to the hotel but doubted he could make it through the crowds without drawing attention to himself. Pulling out his phone, he shakily opened a ride app, but the thought nauseated him. He didn’t want or need anyone to see him. Recognize him. That would lead to questions that he couldn’t answer.

Another deep breath cleared his mind a little. Sarge. He needed to ring Sarge. He’d come and get him. No questions asked. He opened his contacts, brought up the band’s head of security number, and pressed dial.

It rang for a few moments before the gruff voice of the former Marine answered.

“What’s up, Liam?”

“I need a pick up,” Liam replied.

“Of course you do,” Sarge sighed. “Could this night get any worse?”

“Why? What’s happened?” Worry coursed through Liam, spiking his heart rate even further.

“Jamie and Kellet got ambushed by fans in the lobby, and now I can’t find Seth.”

“Sorry, Sarge. I wouldn’t ask, but I can’t—” Liam cut off the rest of the sentence, not wanting to admit he was in the early stages of a panic attack.

“It’s okay, Lee. We’ve got this,” Sarge soothed. “Text me your location. I’ll get someone to you. Just hang tight, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Sarge.”

“Someone will be there shortly, okay? Stay safe.”

“Okay.”

He hung up and sent a brief message with the name of a street one block over. He could get himself one block away from where he was.

Ten minutes later, a dark SUV pulled into the corner where Liam was standing. He’d received a text from Sarge that Brad, one of the other bodyguards, was on his way. Liam hurried over and went to open the passenger door.

“In the back,” Brad told him.

Liam switched and pulled open the door.

“Thanks, Brad. You’re a lifesaver,” he said as he climbed in, belatedly realizing that someone else was in the vehicle. The cool tones of their manager, Miles, had him freezing momentarily before he quickly closed the door behind him.

“And why would Brad need to be saving you, Liam?”

“M… Miles,” he stammered, adrenaline once again flooding his system. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t flying in until tomorrow?”

“Change of plans, and it looks like I got here just in time.” Miles flicked a button, and a privacy screen rose. Liam glanced at Brad, who caught his eye in the rearview mirror, and gave him a sympathetic shrug.