11. Liam
eleven
Liam
A fter a sleepless night and a punishing workout early this morning, I swing my car into the parking lot of my studio.
Ascension Records is open seven days a week, Sundays being dedicated recording slots for local bands—mostly teenagers and college kids.
However, Hail made me agree to take Sundays off. Something about work-life balance or some shit.
He comes for me the second I walk through the front door, his silver cross earring swinging wildly. “Oh, hell no. You better turn around and start marching back to your car.”
His hands land on my chest, and I grin down at him when he doesn’t get me to move. Whiskey eyes flash with anger. Suddenly, I’m reminded of his sister laid out beneath me last night, begging for my cock.
Do I feel guilty about what we got up to? No. I really fucking don’t.
Flipping my sunglasses up onto my head, I stride over to the counter where Walter sits and bump a fist against his.
“Sup, boss?” he says.
“We booked up today?”
Walter bobs his head. “You know it. Emma should be here in—”
Bells jingle, and a wild-eyed woman in a leopard-print dress rushes in, orange curls bouncing and iced coffees sloshing in the tray she’s barely balancing in one hand.
Hail grabs one of the coffees about to spill. “See? We’ve got it covered.”
I don’t want to admit to him that I can’t go home. Not when there are two people snuggled up in my bed—a place that’s off-limits for everyone but me. Not until I decide what to do about them.
My brain teases me with visions of my night with Stas and Beau like erotic strips of film. Whimpers and moans. Soft, warm skin and firm muscles contracting. Rich bourbon and dusky blue eyes. Both of them were so eager for my instruction. For my praise .
Fuck . It was hot. I won’t deny that.
As much as I want to let it happen again, I’m on edge, waiting for something from the shadows to come swallow me whole for crossing lines and taking what doesn’t belong to me.
What I don’t deserve.
Something about being told you’re a waste of space as a kid really fucks with your ability to form healthy relationships as an adult.
Which is why I can’t let anyone gamble on me. Stas is at the start of a new chapter in her life. And Beau…
Well, I’m not sure what’s going on with him, but I refuse to kick him out until I slaughter whatever it is that chased him into my unreliable arms.
Unfortunately, it’s like any other night when I come home late from work. Quiet. Dark. Unsettlingly so.
I’ve decided I hate it.
Unease stirs in me when I don’t find Beau on a bar stool or sprawled on my sectional.
Did he leave? Was one good fuck all he needed to get back out there and conquer the world? Or was I just a stepping stone on the way to connect with someone else in Dallas ?
I think about him with Stas. How he made her laugh with such abandon, head tipped back, long hair spilling down her back, and brown eyes lit up with joy I haven’t seen from her in years.
Was it jealousy that drove me to follow them up to my music room last night? I’m not sure what I was thinking. Only that I didn’t want to miss whatever was playing out between them.
No, I’m not jealous. I’m selfish. I’m hella overprotective, too.
I’d do anything for my twins. Chalk that up to being raised in a dangerous house where I witnessed just how horrible humans could be.
How easily they can tear a chasm inside you when they refuse to give you the most basic of necessities.
Like fucking love.
I don’t want Stas or Beau to ever experience that kind of pain.
Cutting through the formal dining room, I take the stairs by twos. When I don’t find Beau in the music room, my head turns to the spare bedroom with the door closed.
I approach cautiously, ear straining for some sort of confirmation that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye.
Then again, he doesn’t owe me shit.
What if he’s in there with Stas? What if the two of them want to pursue something without me?
Soft plucking of nylon strings comes from behind the door. I listen for a few moments, stunned in place by the emotional melody Beau’s playing. It splits me open. Makes me bleed. Makes me question why he’s here and not out on tour playing with Lithos.
I crack the door, peeking in at him resting against the headboard in bed, one of my guitars held against his bare chest. His left fingers move fluidly over the strings, but he keeps pausing to shake out his right hand in frustration .
Did he injure it?
Concern spreads through me. The last thing I should do is close myself in a bedroom with him.
“Liam?” he asks hesitantly.
I sigh, the discomfort in my chest growing. “Yeah. We should talk.”
The bed creaks, and he pads over to fully open the door. I can’t help my eyes from running down his chest. He’s wearing a pair of my gray sweatpants, and they’re barely clinging to his hips.
Clenching my jaw, I fist my hands at my sides to keep from putting them on his body.
Beau gives me a knowing little grin. “Or we could skip the talking.”
I have a brief moment of weakness where I think about leaning down to capture his mouth. Of pushing him back until he collapses on the bed, pinning him down, and spending hours driving him to the brink of pleasure.
When I don’t give in for once, the spark in his blue eyes fades. He runs a hand through his still-damp hair and walks over to the bed to plop down on the edge.
It’s then I realize there are no lights on in his room, just the faint glow of the streetlamp through the half-closed blinds.
“Why are you playing in the dark?”
“Had a headache,” he mumbles.
I stride into the connected bathroom to retrieve medicine from the cabinet above the sink. I pull out two Tylenol, grab the bottle of water from the nightstand, and hold both out for him.
He looks up at me defensively. “You know, I didn’t come here for this.”
It takes a glare to get him to accept my offerings. After swallowing the medicine, he rolls out flat on his back.
“What did you come here for, Beau?” I ask firmly .
He leaves me waiting in anticipation, so I position myself over him on the bed. He sucks in a breath and holds it as fear glints in his eyes. I want to strangle it. I want to take on all his problems and free him from his troubles.
I touch my fingers to his neck, right over his thudding pulse. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll find someone more willing to talk. I have your band manager’s number in my phone.”
He swallows. “You fuck him, too?”
A growl threatens to rip from me, but he mumbles a soft “kidding” before my anger can lash out.
Curling my hand around his neck, I bring my mouth to his ear. “You better start talking, or I’m going to fuck you until your ass is raw.”
He tips his head up to expose more of his neck. “Joke’s on you. I choose the ass fucking.”
“ Beau ."
“Yeah. Yeah.” He shuts his eyes. “I’m done, okay? I got kicked out.”
“Kicked out,” I repeat, blinking down at him.
“Out of the band. They were tired of my shit.”
My brows furrow. “Who’s they? What shit?”
If it’s drugs or alcohol, I can’t be involved. Doesn’t mean I won’t point Beau toward resources, but after walking in on the corpse of my father after years of his drunken abuse, I can’t go there ever again.
“Everyone. I couldn’t perform,” Beau replies, striving to keep his tone light.
I remember watching him from the side stage the first time Lithos opened for us and thinking he had a permanent place in the music industry. That his career would soar. It was part of the reason I stopped responding to his texts. I knew he was going places. He didn’t need me to fuck up his focus .
And now he’s here, laid out in my bed, a place I never imagined I’d find him, doing his best to keep secrets that are obviously impacting his mental health.
“What changed?” I ask.
He winces, and I feel his right hand flex against my thigh. “Everything.”
Eager to free him from this invisible pain, I brush my fingers through his hair. Then I lean down to kiss the corner of his mouth.
“Liam.” His hands touch lightly against my sides, slowly working their way to spread over my back.
“What do you need?”
I’ve never been this gentle with him, but tonight is different. He’s obviously hurting. Still clinging to secrets, too.
“Less talking. More touching.”
His desperate words trigger me into action. I reach back to grab his wrists and plant them on the bed above his head. When I seal our hips together, I drag my lips over his neck.
Beau gasps my name as I kiss my way down his body, shoving his hands away when he tries to touch me again.
“Sorry. Forgot you don’t like that. You can tie me up like you used to.”
Hovering over the ridge of his cock in his sweats, I lift my head to take in his lust-filled expression. I’m tempted to fetch my rope, but the thought of removing myself from him right now doesn’t please me. Especially when I think about how long he’s been sitting in the dark all alone.
“Hands to yourself or I stop.” I tug his pants down and run my tongue from base to tip of his hard cock. His head drops on a moan, and I catch his fingers curling into his palms .
If this is what he needs, who am I to deny him pleasure? Maybe after an orgasm, he’ll be more willing to open up to me.
Every time he tenses up like he’s about to come, I pull away. I smirk as he whines for my mouth to return to his skin. “Fuck, Liam. I need it.”
“Then lay there and take it.”
He nods frantically and keeps himself still. I suck him harder, savoring the salty taste of precum he’s leaking. I focus on rolling my tongue over his crown and nudging his piercing.
When I take him all the way down my throat and hold him there, he hisses and bucks his hips. “ Fuck . Liam.”
Warm cum spurts into my mouth, seeping down my throat. I swallow it all, draining him until he’s clawing at me from the sensitivity, pleading for me to stop.
When I pop off, he collapses into a heap. I push off the bed and adjust my cock in my pants.
“Damn it. That wasn’t supposed to happen that fast,” he pants.
After a few labored breaths, he slips onto the floor in front of me. Perched on his knees, he lifts those deep blue eyes to mine. “Can I suck you off?”
I run a hand through his hair. Using my other hand to unzip my pants, I grip him at the roots and guide his parted lips to my cock.
“Open. Tongue out,” I command.
He obeys beautifully, sticking his tongue out for me. I slap my cock down on it before gliding it back and forth on the slick, warm surface, reveling in the feel of him. When I push deep into his throat, he gags but doesn’t fight me.
“Come on. You know how to suck dick. Remind me what that mouth can do. Show me what I’ve been missing. ”
His eyes narrow at the challenge, and I grin as he wraps his hands around my thighs. Though my teeth clench at his hold on me, I return the favor by gripping his hair even tighter.
He can take it. He took so much from me before, all without complaint.
I slam into him, and he receives me with little moans and whines around my cock. I bring my other hand around the back of his neck.
“Ready for this load?” I murmur.
His fingers dig into my flesh, and he hums around me. The vibrations have sparks building at the base of my spine. I rock into him a few more times and then hold his head to the base of my shaft as I come with a growl.
When I release him, he slumps down to the floor and runs the back of his hand across his bright red, spit-slicked lips.
Tucking myself away, I drop into a squat and take his jaw in my hand, planting a kiss to his mouth.
His eyelashes flutter. “I missed this.”
Gazing into his solemn eyes, something constricts around my lungs and chokes my air supply.
I help Beau to his feet, my brain searching for a proper response to his admission. This is where I tell him I’m different now. That I made a mistake ghosting him. That I missed him, too.
Leaning in to kiss him one more time, I stride out of the bedroom without speaking another word.