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

by Gabrielle Sands

  Feeling foolish, I nodded. “Yes. Everything is perfect.”

  He kissed me, tugging my bottom lip inside his mouth and nipping on it with his teeth. “Tell me if you want me to slow down.” His hips rolled against me, and I sucked in a breath.

  “No,” I said immediately, pushing my lingering questions off to the side. I could think about them later. “Fuck me. Please. Just fuck me.”

  He squeezed my wrists, as if signaling his agreement, and began to move.

  The first few deep thrusts felt strange. The stretching sensation intensified, and for a moment, I thought that maybe the pain had simply been delayed, but he kept going, and the tension began to morph into pleasure.

  I arched my back, and he let go of my wrists, lifting me by the waist to change the angle at which we met.

  That’s when I started to feel it.

  “Oh God,” I moaned, scratching over the muscles on his back. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

  A tension in his forehead eased, and he began to speed up, his dick disappearing inside of me right to the hilt. I looked between us and was relived to find no blood. I watched him take me, watched to see how well we’d joined.

  Then his hand was on my ankle, and he swung my leg over his shoulder, changing the angle again, and I was seeing stars that were different than the ones in the sky.

  “Jamie,” I whimpered.

  He kissed the inside of my knee. “Say my name again.”

  “Jamie. Jamie. Jamie,” I chanted as he hit that perfect spot over and over again. “Make me come again. For the love of God, make me come.”

  He swore under his breath, found my clit with his thumb, and began to rub circles around it. My hips, my legs, my waist jerked up and down, as if they were conducting electricity, and then everything culminated, and I was breaking apart beneath him, my frenzied moans ringing through the air.

  The tenor of his grunts changed a few seconds later. He pulled out of me, ripping the condom off and leaning over my chest. He pumped his dick with his hand, once, twice, thrice, and came in long spurts all over my breasts.

  I volleyed my gaze between his release and his face, wanting to see how he looked in this moment, but also loving the sight of his cum on my skin. His gray eyes were hooded, his breath harsh and heavy, and if I’d thought he was beautiful before, I had no words to describe how he looked right then.

  I drew my index finger through the sticky liquid and brought it to my lips. His mouth parted as he watched me taste him, his eyes glued to my face.

  My finger left my mouth with a pop. “Thanks for the dessert.”

  He groaned and pulled me into his chest, kissing my hair, my forehead, my eyes, and finally my mouth again. “You’re incredible,” he said between the kisses. “This was fucking incredible.”

  I laughed, gripping his biceps and resting my forehead against his for a heartbeat. “I…should get cleaned up.”

  He helped me up, staying behind to gather the food that still sat mostly untouched, and I made my way to the guest bathroom I was acquainted with.

  Inside, I turned to Google. Apparently, some women’s hymens had less tissue to start with. Activities like biking, horseback riding, dancing, and a myriad of other things could also stretch it to the point where having sex for the first time would not hurt. I scrolled for a few minutes, drinking in the headlines, clicking into articles, with Jamie’s cum still on my chest.

  The phone landed on the vanity with a dull thud. I turned on the water, wet a small face towel, and looked into the mirror to see my face and neck flushed. As I finally cleaned myself, a chuckle began to rumble in my chest before turning into an astonished laugh.

  For more than two years I’d been saving something I didn’t have for a guy who hadn’t even wanted it.

  The situation was ridiculous. Laughter kept sputtering out of my throat, and I cranked the water higher, hoping it would drown out the sounds so that Jamie wouldn’t hear anything. I threw the towel onto the counter and sat on the lid of the toilet, clamping a hand over my mouth as the laughter turned to hiccups and then to tears. I felt stupid. I’d grown up in a family with progressive and open-minded values, and yet I’d spent two years “saving myself” for Oliver? Why had that ever seemed so important?

  Maybe because I’d thought it was important to him. He’d made me feel like my innocence was a big part of my appeal, and I’d been afraid to lose that. Without it, why would he ever choose me over the other women he could have?

  Jamie’s guest bathroom wasn’t the best place for deep introspection, so I collected myself and dried my face. Closing up whatever buttons remained on my dress, I walked back out.

  Jamie stood in the kitchen with his clothes back on, his hands on the counter. When he heard me emerge, his gaze swept up to my face. “You okay?”

  “Yes,” I said, giving him a soft smile.

  He walked around the island between us and gathered my face between his warm hands. Something inside of me unfurled in response, eager to be touched by him. I’d thought back to how I chanted his name and how wonderful it had felt rolling off my tongue.

  That’s how things feel in the heat of the moment.

  They hadn’t though with Jack. I never said his name when we fooled around, never even thought to try it. If I was being honest, I’d usually been thinking of someone else.

  Jamie kissed me, ran his fingers through my messy hair, and rubbed the small of my back. It felt familiar, as if he’d done all of these things a million times before. “I’m sorry I ruined your dress.”

  I shook my head. “It had too many buttons anyway.”

  He laughed. “And so fucking tiny. Why would they make buttons that small?”

  “To torture grown men, clearly.”

  “Clearly.” Jamie scratched at the back of his neck. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

  His eyes shone with affection and hope for something I didn’t quite comprehend, and then his fingers swept down my arm and tangled with mine, and all I could do was nod.

  We made it to the sofa, him on his back, me lying on his stomach, and turned on an old movie.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “Detroit Rock City. I was watching it before you came. We can change it, if you want.”

  “No, that’s cool. Leave it.”

  I squirmed on top of him, trying to get more comfortable. A few moments later, he shifted his hips, and I felt his stiff erection flush against my abdomen. There was no chance of understanding the plot or appreciating the witty humor, because no more than five minutes later, we were busy doing other things.

  We drove up to my apartment building around eleven-thirty in the evening. Jamie had insisted on taking me home, and we spent the entire ride talking about the classes I was taking this semester. I liked how interested he was in this stuff. He said psychology was fascinating.

  “When can I see you next?” he asked.

  He was so direct. I liked that about him, too. “Is it okay if I text you?” I asked, hating myself for the non-committal response, but I needed to figure out what I was going to do, and I couldn’t think straight around him.

  “Sure,” he said, a little too lightly. I knew he must have been hoping for a different answer.

  “I had a fun time.” This time, I made myself look him in the eyes. “Really.” Leaning closer, I brushed my lips against his and felt him smile.

  “Me, too.”

  Inside, Zoey’s bedroom was closed and there was no light coming from under the door. Sophie was snoring on the sofa. Not wanting to disturb her the night before her big interview, I turned on my phone’s flashlight and went directly to my room.

  I should have known that sleeping with Jamie was going to be different than fooling around with Jack. With the latter, leaving had always been easy. But with Jamie? I didn’t want to leave. Not after we’d done it again during the movie. Not after he’d gone down on me and made me come while the credits rolled. Not after he’d held me to his chest and
traced lines down my bare back while I tried to coax my heart to calm down.

  Something was brewing between us, and I no longer thought I could walk away from it after only one night.

  I kept the lights off as I walked over and sat down on my bed. I had one more thing to do before going to sleep. My fingers were ice cold as I pulled up the message chain between Oliver and I.

  It was time to delete it. Forever.

  As I hovered over the red icon, readying to finally do it, the device vibrated three times. It was as if he sensed what I was about to do.

  “We’ve been apart too long, haven’t we? Today, I almost booked my flight, but something important came up. Still, I’ll be there soon. I promise you. Don’t forget, beautiful. You belong to me.”

  17

  JAMIE

  The morning after Ivy came over, I woke up with a pit in my stomach. What if yesterday was it? It had been the best day I could remember having in ages, but I wasn’t sure about her feelings. When we were tangled together, my hands on her bare skin, my mouth pressed to her lips, everything felt perfect. But in the car, she’d seemed nervous again. What if she’d gotten her fill? What if she didn’t feel as ravenous for me as I did for her?

  Then I picked up my phone from the nightstand and saw her message. “Free tomorrow?”

  And that’s how it started. We met up on Tuesday, and the next day, and the day after that, and in a blink, a week and a half had gone by without us going more than twenty-four hours without seeing each other.

  It was easy to pack away all my hesitations about getting involved with her after that first night. Whenever I was around her, I was elated. My alcohol cravings were a distant memory. Now, all I craved was her.

  Ivy came over to my place after her last class. She dropped her backpack on the floor in the hallway and came to hug me from behind, letting out a loud sigh.

  “What’s wrong, angel?” I asked, unable to keep a grin off my face as she rubbed her cheek against my back. The endearment first came to me a few days ago, and when I said it to Ivy she laughed, embarrassed. “Does that make you my demon?” she’d teased. I thought that fit pretty well.

  “I’m so tired. I stayed up all last night studying for the test, and it still kicked my butt.”

  I turned around to face her. “You can study here if you need to. I don’t want you to fall behind on your classes because I’ve been making you spend all of your time with me.”

  She smiled, and there was a little dimple on her right cheek. “You’re not making me do anything, J. I want to be here, with you.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood at the use of my old nickname. Only family called me that—ma, and Fox before he’d started hating me. Of course, Ivy didn’t know that, but hearing that simple letter roll off her tongue made me feel all kinds of warm.

  “Oh, Sophie found out today that she got the internship,” Ivy said excitedly.

  “That’s great. When is she moving to LA?”

  “Next semester. It’s going to be a ton of fun having her here. I think you’ll enjoy getting to know her better.”

  I was more than a little pleased that Ivy was imagining us together months from now.

  “How was your day?” she asked, smoothing the front of my T-shirt with her hands.

  “Pretty laid-back. I worked out in the morning—”

  “Of course,” she said with an eye roll. The few times she had stayed over, she’d murmured a string of complaints when I rolled out of bed at six-thirty am.

  “Then I had a meeting,” I continued, purposefully keeping that part vague. I couldn’t tell her that the meeting was with my lawyer in preparation for the rapidly approaching court date. Neither of us had brought up our agreement not to talk about Oliver, and I couldn’t bring myself to broach the subject. The feelings between us were intense. They felt real, but they were also so very new. I was too much of a coward to risk putting any strain on them. Still, I worried. What if he still had a lingering hold on her? There had to be a reason why she’d completely ignored the topic. I promised myself that after the lawsuit was wrapped up, I’d talk to her about everything.

  “And when I got home, I spent some time messing around with the guitar,” I concluded.

  “How did it go?”

  “Pretty good, actually. I wrote a song.” Despite my nonchalance, I think she sensed the excitement I was trying to hide. I’d been trying to write for weeks, but this was the first song I’d been able to finish.

  Her eyes widened. “Play it for me?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “I will, but it’s very raw. I don’t want you to have high expectations.”

  “I’m expecting no more than an advertising jingle,” she deadpanned, even as a smile threatened to erupt across her face.

  We settled on the sofa in the living room and I grabbed my acoustic guitar. “This is meant to be played on an electric, so imagine that in your head, okay?”

  She nodded. Her hands were crossed in her lap, and she wore this very serious expression that made me wonder what was going through her head.

  I began to play.

  It wasn’t an entirely new song. I’d found the basic chord progression in one of the many voice notes I’d recorded on my phone over the past seven or so years. Some of those voice notes become the basis for Ritual Disruption’s most famous songs, but many more sat unused, deemed to not fit the sound for the band. Now, I had a chance to pick the ones I liked and run with my ideas.

  When I started to sing, Ivy’s expression grew haunted. I kept my gaze on her as I sang, letting the words spill out of me without holding anything back. I didn’t know if I’d ever go back to making music professionally, but sitting here and singing to her was more than enough for me for now.

  The song ended, and Ivy looked moved. “Wow,” she said quietly.

  I felt pride swell inside of me. “What do you think?”

  She swallowed, shifting her gaze from me to the ground and back to me again. “That was amazing. Look.” She extended her arm toward me. “Goosebumps.”

  I gripped her wrist and rubbed circles over it with my thumb. “You’re not just saying it?”

  “No way. Really, it was beautiful. I didn’t know you could write like that. I want to hear more.”

  I wanted to tell her so badly right then. I wrote it all. He stole my songs from me. But I didn’t. I’d wait until the court ruled in my favor, and then there would be no room for any doubts.

  I placed my guitar off to the side and pulled her onto my lap. “I think I need a bit of inspiration.”

  She gave me a playful look. “What kind of inspiration?”

  Nipping at her lips, I ran my thumbs under the swell of her breasts. When she was like this, warm and pliant under my touch, I couldn’t think about anything but her.

  “I want to look at something beautiful,” I whispered against her lips.

  “I’ve got something I can show you, but it’s more of an interactive exhibit.” She smirked. “You’ll need to get your hands dirty.”

  “I’m sure I can handle it.”

  “Yeah, you can.”

  I stripped off her clothes and her underwear, and laid her down on the floor. She opened her legs, showing me all of herself, and I took a long look. God, that pussy was fucking beautiful. A blush crept up her neck, and when she tried to close her legs after a few moments, I wrapped my palms around her knees and held them in place. “Don’t. I want to memorize it all.”

  Her gaze darkened as her lips parted. “You make me feel…”

  “How do I make you feel, Ivy?” I asked, my voice low. My dick strained against the fabric of my jeans.

  “Powerful,” she breathed.

  Fuck. I felt like I was levitating off the floor. “That’s because you are. You fucking are.”

  Her face went slack as she watched me hook her leg over my shoulder and lick a trail from her ankle to her inner thigh. She shivered in anticipation as I parted her open with my thumbs and blew
over her clit.

  “Taste me,” she begged, and I did. I fucked her with my tongue and then with my fingers, and when she came, my name spilling off her lips, I took out my cock and plunged inside of her, helping her milk the last of her orgasm. She mewled and whimpered beneath me while I chased my own release, her nails digging into my ass, her lips never far from my ear. The experience was spiritual, so fucking all-encompassing, that when I came, I forgot who I was for a moment. I felt one with the entire goddamn world.

  By the time we got off the floor, the sun had begun to set. On the sofa, Ivy tucked herself under my arm, her cheek pressed against my chest.

  I kissed her forehead. “Do you want to order some food?”

  “Nap first,” she mumbled.

  I shut my eyes, ready to do the same when I remembered what I’d wanted to ask her. “Hey, how do you feel about meeting my cousin for dinner next week?”

  “Sure,” she said sleepily. “Sounds good.”

  While she drifted off to sleep, I reached for my phone and texted Fox. “See you on Saturday. I’m bringing a date.”

  Since the meeting at the In-N-Out, Fox and I had met up two more times. We were rebuilding our relationship, making slow but steady progress. I’d told him everything there was to know about my case against Oliver, even going as far as running my lawyer’s strategy by him. I trusted him not to say a word to anyone. He’d given me some feedback, but mostly he listened. Sometimes, that’s all I needed.

  When he suggested we meet for dinner the Saturday before my court date, I’d immediately agreed. I thought about suggesting we make it a double-date, since I knew Fox was seeing someone, but he hadn’t talked about her in much detail to me. I didn’t feel it was my right to pry given the history we had. So instead, I decided to ask Ivy to come and leave it up to Fox to decide if he wanted to bring his date now that he knew I was bringing one.