Pretty Words: An Enemies To Lovers Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  The crowd below us erupted into loud cheers. Oliver blinked, and immediately, the strangeness was gone. “Good girl,” he whispered, dragging his fingers out of my mouth. I could see his chest rise and fall with deep breaths.

  He twisted his neck to look at the stage. “I need to get back.”

  “Okay,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt…disoriented.

  Oliver turned back to me. “We’re leaving right after the show, but I’ll find you tomorrow.”

  He gave me a quick kiss and left.

  I lowered into one of the chairs and saw that my hands were trembling. Things between us were moving so quickly.

  I only have eleven days left.

  That’s right. I didn’t have the luxury of time, and I wanted to squeeze everything I could out of my days here. If that meant feeling a little uncomfortable at times, it was a price I had to be willing to pay.

  I fidgeted with my earrings, the ones Oliver had given me, while my brother’s band finished their set. Before long, Ritual Disruption was due on stage. The band walked on one by one, all of them except Jamie, and began playing an intro to a song I recognized.

  What would they do if Jamie never appeared? Fortunately, I didn’t have to wonder for long. The lead singer emerged on stage moments later, his thin frame covered by a leather jacket that added some much-needed bulk.

  When he began to sing, I finally understood what Oliver had meant about Jamie being the signature part of their sound. His voice was exceptional, more so live than on an album. He somehow managed to sound demonic when he growled the verse, yet angelic when he sang the chorus. From this distance, you couldn’t see his sunken cheeks or other signs of his addiction, and it was easy to be swept away with admiration for his talent. I chewed on my nail and thought back to all those women who threw themselves at the singer. Yeah, despite everything, the appeal wasn’t totally lost on me.

  5

  The next three days felt like a blur of stolen moments and secret kisses with Oliver. When Bleeding Moonlight and I weren’t riding on the bus, sharing meals, or going on some expedition Ezra planned for us, I was constantly sneaking away with the guitarist. It had become somewhat of a sport—trying to find ways to see each other without arousing suspicion or…exchanging phone numbers. When I suggested we do the latter, Oliver refused with his signature smirk. “It’s more romantic if we leave it to chance and our own ingenuity, don’t you think?” My heart leapt at his words, no matter how impractical they seemed.

  “Have you given more thought about what you want to do for your birthday?” Oliver asked me on Thursday, a week from the big day. We were in one of the dressing rooms at tonight’s venue, hours before the show. His fingers were under my shirt, carefully kneading my breast.

  “No,” I half said, half gasped. His other hand was unbuttoning my jeans, something he hadn’t done before. We hadn’t progressed past heavy make-out sessions, but the only reason for that was his hectic schedule. I knew he had at least twenty minutes before he had to leave now.

  His fingers dipped inside my underwear, and I stiffened.

  “Relax, beautiful,” he said and chuckled softly. “Is this the furthest you’ve gone with a man?”

  My eyes shuttered closed as he pinched a nipple. “What does it matter?” Lingering insecurity trembled in the back of my mind. Was it obvious to him that I was a virgin?

  “It matters plenty.” He nuzzled my ear with his nose. “If I’m the first, I want to know so that I can make it special.”

  His breath washed over my exposed neck and he planted a kiss on the patch of skin that was pounding with my racing pulse. “Tell me.” His voice was low and commanding.

  I nodded against his shoulder. “Yes. You’re the first.”

  I could feel his smile against my skin. “Good girl. We’ve got a lot of territory to explore before the big finale on your birthday.”

  The meaning of his words tangled in my brain as he pushed his fingers farther inside of me. I gasped and clutched on his shoulders. I’d touched myself before, but I’d never experienced the foreign sensation of someone else’s fingers inside of me. He began to work my clit with his thumb, and I writhed against the wall as the pleasure between my legs began to build.

  “God, you’re so tight. You’re going to feel so good around me,” Oliver murmured, his voice strained.

  I groaned and held on to him until stars exploded in my eyes.

  It was only after we had parted that I remembered his earlier words.

  The birthday finale.

  I got on Ritual Disruption’s bus for the first time a few days later.

  It was bigger than Bleeding Moonlight’s, a mind-boggling sixteen-bunk sleeper bus with an entire king-sized bed in a room at the back. I was stunned by the opulence, but Oliver didn’t give me time to drink in the surroundings.

  “The guys will be back from lunch soon,” he said between kisses while he backed me into the bedroom and undid the buttons of my shirt. I fell back onto the bed, but Oliver didn’t follow me. He paused at the foot of the bed and raked his gaze over my chest. “Do you want to make me feel good, Ivy?”

  I bit on my lip. He’d made me come multiple times by now with his hand, and I’d known it was only a matter of time before he’d expect me to return the favor.

  You want to see him, don’t you?

  I did. He’d taken his shirt off with me before, but I wanted to see all of him. Still, my silence stretched between us.

  He frowned and extended his hand, as if to help me back up. “I don’t want to ask you for something you’re not ready for.”

  Emotions battled in my chest. In truth, I was nervous about a million things. Was I ready to go further with him? Would I live up to his expectations? The past week had been a whirlwind of emotions, and I felt like I’d had no time to even try to ground myself. When I wasn’t with Oliver, all I did was daydream about him and when I’d see him next. So why was I so scared?

  A twenty-seven-year-old rock star isn’t going to wait for you. Stop being immature.

  As I took in his expression, I knew there was no time for childish hesitation, not if I wanted to keep him interested in me.

  “I want to make you feel as good as you’ve made me,” I said, forcing my thoughts away from my worries by focusing on how goddamn attractive this man was. His lips were pouty from the kisses we had just shared, and his blond hair had been tousled by my hands.

  His teeth ran over his lip ring, and his lids grew heavier. “Okay. Only if it’s what you want.”

  See, he’s not even trying to pressure you into anything. It’s all in your head.

  I sat up, bringing my face in line with his waist, and began to undo his jeans. He smoothed strands of hair away from my face as he watched me from above. My forearms grazed against his muscular thighs and the bulge that was straining against the fabric of his jeans as I worked the buttons open.

  When I’d finished with the last one, I looked up at him, expecting to see a smile, or even one of his signature smirks, but instead, his expression was impassive. As if he were a king looking down at one of his insignificant peasants. I swallowed.

  “Keep going,” he commanded in a rough voice and tightened his hand around my hair.

  The door to the bedroom flung open with a loud bang. Oliver whipped around, the buckle of his belt nearly swiping against my face in the process. I jumped off the bed and pulled my shirt tightly around me before I even saw who it was.

  Jamie.

  A hot wave of embarrassment blanketed my entire body. The singer’s eyes were wide as he took in the scene before him. He frowned at me, then moved his attention to Oliver. “What are you doing?” he snapped at the guitarist. “Do you know who she is?” he asked, jerking his head into my direction. His fists were clenched by his sides.

  My fingers trembled as I started to button up my shirt. I felt like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have been doing which was ridiculous. Who the hell was Jamie to make me f
eel this way?

  Oliver scoffed. “Fuck off.”

  I couldn’t agree more. This was none of Jamie’s business. Doing up the last button, I stepped toward the door.

  “Move,” I fired at the singer, who was blocking the way out. Slowly, he dropped his gaze to me. His light-gray eyes were clear, but I thought I could pick up on a hint of booze. Maybe he was just getting started for the day.

  “Does your brother know what you’re doing with him?” he asked in a low voice.

  I sneered. “You’re joking, right?”

  His eyes flashed with something awfully close to regret, but I didn’t care what the hell he was feeling. “Who do you think you are? Did you forget what you did to me in that dressing room? Get off your high horse and stay out of my life.”

  I forced my way past him, pushing against his arm as I made my way out of the bedroom. Within seconds, I was off the bus, frustration and embarrassment prickling across the back of my neck.

  “What’s up with you, Ivy?” Cole asked after a late lunch on Thursday, during which I’d barely said a word to anyone. We stood outside the Chinese restaurant, a few feet away from the rest of the guys, waiting for the bus to pick us up from the strip mall and take us to the venue. Tonight, we had a special treat waiting for us—a night at a hotel. “You’ve been prickly like a cactus for the past two days.”

  I hadn’t seen Oliver since Jamie had walked in on us. Our little thing with not exchanging phone numbers was massively backfiring now, but what was worse was that I suspected he’d stopped trying to find me. Why would he do that? Had the singer said something to him after I left? But what could he have said to possibly keep Oliver away from me?

  “Seriously. What’s up?” Cole asked again. He reached over to ruffle my hair, but I ducked away from his hand.

  “Do that to a cactus, and you’ll get stung.”

  My brother frowned. “Something’s going on. You’re not like this normally.”

  “It’s nothing,” I grumbled, kicking at a branch on the pavement. There was no way I could tell Cole what was really bothering me.

  “C’mon. Maybe I can help.”

  I shook my head as I saw the bus turning into the parking lot. “I’m fine. I’m just…getting tired of tour life,” I lied. “Never thought that not having the ground moving under your feet would be considered a luxury.”

  Cole’s face fell. “Are you ready to go home already?”

  For a second, I felt bad, but at the same time, Cole was still spending a lot of time frolicking somewhere with Amy and leaving me with his bandmates. I didn’t think he’d be all that upset when I was finally gone.

  “I don’t know,” I murmured. Of course, I wasn’t ready to go home. The prospect of leaving Oliver was hanging over me, impossible to ignore as the days ticked by. What if this was the end for us? Just entertaining that thought made me want to break out in tears.

  Cole rubbed at his chest. “I get it. Took me our entire first tour to get used to it, and you’ve only been here for a week and a half. Look, there’s going to be a little get together at the hotel after the show. Should be a lot of fun, yeah?”

  I perked up at this news. “Like a party? For just you, or all of the bands?”

  Cole smiled, sensing my enthusiasm. “Everyone should be there, but it won’t be too crowded. Not unless Ritual Disruption blows up their guest list.”

  I had to see Oliver at this party, and we had to talk. My birthday was tomorrow, and I was leaving the very next morning. I’d already tried to find a way to extend my time here, but there was no way to do that with my upcoming move to LA. There was simply not a day to spare if I wanted to be in UCLA for orientation, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered the option, but I knew that even my parents wouldn’t be okay with that. They would know that something was going on, and Oliver had asked me to keep us a secret.

  What if he just got bored of me?

  Cold fear grew inside my stomach. It wouldn’t be the first time. When I was with Oliver, I didn’t feel like my old self, but what if that was an illusion? What if he’d finally realized I wasn’t interesting enough for someone like him?

  On the bus, I rushed to my bunk and began sorting through my clothes. Tonight, I needed to look as good as ever if I wanted to get Oliver back.

  When we got to the venue, the guys left the bus for sound check but I stayed behind. I kept hoping that Oliver would come out of Ritual Disruption’s bus that was parked just a little away, but all I could see were silhouettes moving behind the windows. Around eight pm, I finally saw Oliver, Jamie, and their two touring musicians, Andy and Vincent, leave together. I followed Oliver’s back with my eyes, hoping he’d turn around and see me, but he never did.

  Thinking that my best chance at seeing him before the show was if I hung around backstage, I left the bus a few minutes after. In the greenroom, Bleeding Moonlight was readying to go on for their set, and I wished the guys good luck before settling down on one of the sofas and pulling out my phone. Zoey and Sophie knew about everything that had happened and had spent the past few days reassuring me that everything with Oliver would be fine.

  I was typing a message when the door opened.

  It was Ritual Disruption and their entourage. I saw Jamie walk in and anger surged through me at the sight of the singer. He was leaning on someone as he walked—obviously already drunk or high. Typical.

  Then a familiar head of tousled-blond hair appeared through the door, and my stomach fluttered. I waved at Oliver, but he didn’t see me. His gaze was fixed on Jamie, a wrinkle between his brows.

  He watches after him all the time. It must be exhausting.

  I rose off the sofa and hurried toward the door, eager to get Oliver’s attention.

  He saw me when I was a few feet away, and his lips curl into a familiar smirk.

  “Hi.” I gave him a nervous smile.

  His gaze skated down my entire form before coming back to my eyes. I nearly squealed in triumph at the dark heat of his gaze.

  The outfit had worked.

  “There you are,” he said, glancing back in Jamie’s direction one final time before motioning for me to follow him outside the room.

  “My God, Ivy. You don’t know the bullshit I’ve had to put up with the past few days,” he said as soon as the door closed behind me.

  My heart dropped. “Let’s go find a private place to talk?”

  He didn’t take my hand as we weaved past the roadies rushing around backstage. When we turned a corner, Oliver opened a door labeled “Supply Closet.”

  “Go on in.”

  I rushed inside with him right behind me, and not a second later, he turned me around and claimed my lips with a harsh kiss.

  I moaned in his mouth, days of anticipation unravelling through me in waves of relief. He still wanted me. We were fine.

  “We don’t have much time,” he said, immediately pulling my crop top over my head. “Jamie has gone crazy. Not that he wasn’t before, but he’s really out of his mind now. I’ve had to deal with his shit non-stop for the past forty-eight hours. I couldn’t get away to see you.”

  His right hand was kneading my right breast, his left was on my ass. I ground into his hardness, eager to prove that those two days hadn’t cost us anything important.

  “What has he done?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s not worth our time.”

  The dismissiveness in his tone made me pause. Didn’t he owe me at least some explanation for why he hadn’t reached out these past two days?

  “You still want to make me feel good?” he asked.

  “Yes. But I want to know what happened with Jamie.”

  “I said it doesn’t matter,” he said, his brows furrowing.

  “Oliver, tell me—”

  His hands stopped moving against me. “He’s taken two days from us, and now you want to give him more of our time? Why are you so interested in what’s been going on with him? You got a crush on him,
too?”

  I shook my head, taken aback by his completely absurd question. “Of course not. I just… Forget it. You’re right.”

  The hardness in his expression eased. “Good girl. Now, get down on your knees.”

  My heart began to pound loudly in my ears. “Here?”

  “Yeah.”

  I lowered down, flinching when the cold concrete dug into the bare skin of my knees. Oliver unbuckled his belt in front of my face, pulled down the zipper of his jeans, and shoved his hand into his underwear.

  And then I was looking at it. His dick. It was long and slightly curved and pointing directly at me.

  “Open your mouth.”

  Tentatively, I obeyed and inched toward the hard, foreign flesh. My lips closed around the head, and above me, Oliver hissed. He shoved his fingers into my hair and pushed me farther on his dick.

  I choked and pulled away to look at him, my eyes watering. His eyes were hooded as he watched me kneeling between his legs.

  “Keep going.”

  I wrapped my lips around him once again, intending to go slower, but he didn’t give me a chance to set the pace. He tightened his hand on my head and began to thrust into my mouth.

  This wasn’t how I’d imagined this would feel. There was a building aggression to his movements, and I frantically tried to fight my gag reflex, but all I could think about was that I couldn’t get enough air inside my lungs.

  Fortunately, it didn’t last long. In less than a minute, Oliver groaned, the sound lower, throatier, and then a sour liquid filled my mouth.

  I tried to jerk away, unsure of what to do, but he held me in place with an unyielding grip until I swallowed his cum.

  When I clambered up, he wore a pleased smile on his face, but I couldn’t return it. I felt…used.

  So what if he likes it a little rough? Snap out of it. You did exactly what you said you’d do the next time you saw him.

  He kept his emerald eyes on me as he tucked himself back in and closed up his zipper. “I loved that, Ivy. You’re amazing, you know that?”