DOUBLE TREBLE
A Twin Rockstar Romance
Nikki Wild
Contents
1. Aidan
2. Phoenix
3. Dylan
4. Phoenix
5. Phoenix
6. Aiden
7. Dylan
8. Phoenix
9. Phoenix
10. Phoenix
11. Phoenix
12. Phoenix
13. Dylan
14. Phoenix
15. Aiden
16. Phoenix
17. Phoenix
18. Phoenix
19. Dylan
20. Phoenix
21. Phoenix
22. Phoenix
23. Dylan
24. Phoenix
25. Dylan
26. Phoenix
27. Phoenix
28. Dylan
29. Phoenix
30. Aiden
31. Aiden
32. Phoenix
33. Phoenix
34. Dylan
35. Nicole
36. Phoenix
37. Dylan
Rock Hard
NIKKI WILD
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
NIKKI WILD
BONUS: Illicit Behavior
NIKKI WILD
1. ILLICIT BEHAVIOR
2. Angel
3. Trent
4. Angel
5. Trent
6. Angel
7. Trent
8. Angel
9. Trent
10. Angel
11. Trent
12. Angel
14. Angel
15. Trent
16. Angel
17. Trent
18. Angel
19. Trent
20. Angel
21. Trent
22. Angel
23. Trent
24. Angel
25. Trent
26. Angel
27. Trent
28. Angel
29. Trent
30. Angel
31. Trent
32. Angel
33. Trent
34. Angel
35. Trent
36. Angel
37. One Year Later
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NIKKI WILD
BONUS: Saved by the Bad Boy
Mailing List
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Epilogue
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Novels by Nikki Wild
Bonus: Pride and Pregnancy
Author’s Note
1. Sarah
2. Sarah
3. Sarah
4. Hunter
5. Hunter
6. Sarah
7. Hunter
8. Hunter
9. Hunter
10. Sarah
11. Hunter
12. Hunter
13. Sarah
14. Hunter
15. Sarah
16. Hunter
17. Sarah
18. Hunter
19. Hunter
20. Sarah
21. Sarah
22. Sarah
23. Hunter
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Bonus: Taming Grizz
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Prologue
1. Grizz
2. Grizz
3. Kate
4. Grizz
5. Grizz
6. Kate
7. Kate
8. Grizz
9. Kate
10. Grizz
11. Kate
12. Grizz
13. Kate
14. Grizz
15. Kate
16. Kate
17. Mudflap
18. Kate
19. Grizz
20. Kate
21. Grizz
22. Grizz
23. Kate
24. Grizz
25. Kate
26. Grizz
27. Mudflap
28. Kate
29. Grizz
30. Kate
31. Grizz
Epilogue
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Novels by Nikki Wild
The first Surprise? RUNNING GAME!
By Nikki Wild
Mailing List
Prologue
1. JESSE ‘COLORADO’ COLLINS
2. MAISEY
3. JESSE
4. MAISEY
5. JESSE
6. MAISEY
7. JESSE
8. MAISEY
9. JESSE
10. MAISEY
11. JESSE
12. MAISEY
13. JESSE
14. MAISEY
15. JESSE
16. MAISEY
17. JESSE
18. MAISEY
19. JESSE
20. MAISEY
21. JESSE
22. MAISEY
23. JESSE
24. MAISEY
25. JESSE
26. MAISEY
27. JESSE
28. MAISEY
29. JESSE
30. MAISEY
31. JESSE
32. MAISEY
33. JESSE
34. MAISEY
35. JESSE
36. MAISEY
37. JESSE
38. MAISEY
39. JESSE
40. MAISEY
41. JESSE
42. MAISEY
43. Maisey
THE FINAL SURPRISE! You’ve just found MALICE!
1. Troy
2. Riley
3. Troy
4. Riley
5. Troy
6. Riley
7. Troy
8. Riley
9. Troy
10. Riley
11. Troy
12. Riley
13. Troy
14. Riley
15. Troy
16. Riley
17. Troy
18. Riley
19. Troy
20. Riley
21. Troy
22. Riley
23. Troy
24. Riley
25. Troy
26. Riley
27. Troy
28. Riley
29. Troy
30. Riley
31. Troy
32. Riley
33. Troy
34. Riley
Aidan
The venue had been packed, the crowd had been enthusiastic as hell, and the backstage after-party was just the right mixture of drunken, highly exclusive, and packed with hot, willing groupies.
It had been a great fucking night.
The icing on top of the goddamn cake was the white-hot pair of beautiful twin sisters that Dylan and I had brought to our private back room.
I didn’t remember their names.
Did that even matter?
But what did matter was how incredible they were at giving great head. Oh, it had been nothing to serenade these chicks. Two intensely fuckable redheads with lustfully green eyes, skin pale as bone, both the spitting image of each other…
Just like Dylan and me.
My brother groaned as WhatsHerFace #2 sucked him down, her head bobbing and moaning between his knees. He settled back into his seat, his face calm as always when he was in the middle of an explicit sex act.
Me? Not me.
I was all fire, baby.
My attention was all focused on my flavor of the night, WhatsHerFace #1. My fingers curled into that thick, curly hair of hers like gripping onto reins. I grit my teeth, bucking my hips into her mouth.
The girls knew what they were gonna get when we all paired off. Anyone who partied with the Carpenter Twins quickly spotted the differences.
I was fire, and he was water.
The girls I burned through every night on this tour loved the passion. Each of them craved knowing that she was the one to make me rock-hard, that she was the girl who had gotten me to a mind-blowing orgasm. Like a goddamn wildfire I blazed through them all, one tree after another used up and left in my wake.
But for the moments we were together, the fire was alive, it was unquenchable, and it roared between our sweating, shifting bodies. These women threw themselves at me to bask in my heat, and hot damn did they love it.
Dylan was the soft one. The poor guy was all about the love. Claimed to feel a “real connection” with the chicks, even if it was just for a night. He loved that shit. Thrived on it. While I left marks on these chicks that seared down to their souls, he nurtured them all through the act.
He liked vanilla.
I liked spice.
These two sisters were capable of both. I reached for the sheath of condoms, tossing Dylan a stray one as I ripped my own off the strip. Tearing the wrapper with my teeth, I handed the rubber ring to her.
“You know what to do.”
And by God, did she.
The chick placed it to her lips, sucking it tight against her mouth before descending down around my cock. I felt her sheath my hard erection with her lips as I pushed in, opening the condom over it.
Dylan, however, chose to slip it on himself a little awkwardly, then grabbed his designated fuck’s face in both hands and planted a heavy kiss on her lips.
We were just pulling the chicks into our laps, getting ready for some paired twins action when I heard a commotion outside.
“Ignore it,” I ordered them.
The girls were sliding along our cocks, teasing themselves without pushing us into their soaked bodies when there was suddenly a banging at the door.
“Not the time!” I snarled offhandedly.
“Aiden! Dylan! It’s serious!”
A low growl left my lips. It was Trevor, the backup guitarist of our rock band, Decadent Desires.
I turned to Dylan.
“Did you remember to lock the–”
Apparently not, given the sound of our bandmate barging into the room. Trevor stood in the doorway, blocking some of the light. With a tall, tennis player build and decked out in his trademark punk anarchist threads, he was quite obviously racked with concern.
Great.
Just fucking great.
“Bit busy, asshole,” I snapped as the twins recoiled back at the sight of him. We’d had so little time with the room that the four of us still had some of our clothes on.
“It’s Alex,” he groaned.
“You’ve got five seconds before I–”
Trevor didn’t back down. “Dude, Alex fucking passed out. He’s not breathing. I can’t wake him up.”
“Stay here,” I commanded the twin sisters as they struggled to keep their bare breasts covered with their discarded shirts.
“There’s something else you need to know,” Trevor shook his head angrily. “Alex has track marks in his arm. He’s been using again.”
I shared a look with Dylan.
We jumped up, pulling our jeans up and buckling our belts. He turned to the girls.
“Actually, I think you’d better get going.”
They glanced at each other bitterly, reluctant to miss out on what was supposed to have been a hot fucking night. They weren’t the only ones who were pissed.
“Now!” I snapped.
The girls quickly scooped up their shit and bolted. The one who had been ready to fuck my twin brother paused long enough to say, “I hope he’s alright.”
“Yeah, me too,” Dylan muttered.
“Whatever,” I grumbled.
Trevor led us to the main party room, where Alex, sure as shit, was passed out flat on the fucking ground. Our godsend tour manager Jeremy was performing CPR on him.
Carter, our dreadlocked drummer and the final piece of our merry little band, was on the phone with 911.
Jeremy checked Alex’s chest and sighed, standing up. “He’s breathing again.”
“Trevor mentioned track marks,” I grunted, gazing down at our stupid fucking mess of a bassist.
Our manager pointed to Alex’s sprawled arm. “See for yourself, kid. Ain’t lookin’ too good from where I’m standing.”
Dropping to a knee, I whipped out my phone and turned on the flashlight. Holding his forearm up, I saw a few telltale punctures in the crook of his arm. I pocketed my phone, swearing under my breath.
His arm dropped uselessly to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, rising up to my full stance. Everyone who had been partying in here, all the VIP folk, had been brushed outside to clear the area.
It was just the five of us in here.
Plus our apparently junkie bandmate.
I had a zero tolerance policy for this shit. Sex and rock n’ roll was a fantastic mix, but fuck drugs. Drugs killed rock stars. The last thing I wanted was the dead weight of an addict in my close circle.
“He’s a liability now,” I snarled.
“He’s our friend,” Dylan replied. “We’ve gotta get him some help. You know that he needs it, dude. Look at him.”
A bitter scoff skipped past my lips. “Toss this piece of shit on the fucking street where he belongs. He ain’t a part of this band anymore. Not like this.”
“No,” Dylan insisted, daring to challenge me. “Alex is gonna need a hospital. Rehab. The works.”
“Not up for discussion,” Carter called out from nearby, hand held over his phone mic. “They’re gonna be here any second to wheel him off for treatment.”
I glanced down at our bassist and sighed heavily. This was a fucking nightmare. We only had two more weeks on this goddamn tour, and word had slipped down the grapevine that a strong career move was coming our way.
In the form of an interested record exec at an upcoming show, no less.
“Fucking perfect timing,” I scowled down at our comatose bassist. “Thanks a lot.”
The mop-up was quick. In and out in under ten minutes. The ambulance pulled up, a few first responders checked his signs and, and he was quickly wheeled out on his back and sent on his way.
Reluctantly, I followed the others into the ban
d van and tailed the ambulance towards the local hospital.
“We’re gonna need a new bassist,” I groaned when we were finally sitting in the waiting area. “Where the hell are we going to find someone who can play, handle a stage, and knows our songs to fill his filthy boots… in, what, three fucking days?”
Jeremy shook his head.
“You let me take care of that part of things,” he told us. “Let’s just hope Alex pulls through. When he wakes up, we’ll send him into rehab and start cleaning up this mess.”
“You think this is gonna work out?” Dylan asked hopefully. “You think you can pull a rabbit out of a hat on this one?”
“Make sure the goddamn rabbit can play bass,” I scowled angrily.
“I’ve made crazier things happen,” he reminded us. “Hell, with a little bit of luck, we might come out ahead on this one.”
“You know something...” Carter spoke up.
I liked Carter. He was insightful. He noticed things that the rest of us didn’t. That was convenient to have, and he’d steered us clear of a few mistakes before.
But don’t let his quiet, brooding nature fool you: our quiet drummer was a wild, chaotic mess up on that stage. We even called him Octopus sometimes. After all, he played like he had eight drumsticks, and the whipping dreads spraying a sea of sweat everywhere really completed the look.
Jeremy chuckled lightly. “Don’t hold me to anything yet. I might have a solution to this mess, but I’ll need a couple of days first.” He turned towards the door, his smile dropping. “Watch him. Grab me if anything changes.”
“And where are you going? I demanded.
Our tour manager whipped out his phone and started walking down the hall. “I’ve got some phone calls to make…”
Phoenix
I woke up on the couch with a start. Netflix was still playing on the television as I fumbled around under my cushions for my phone. It was only then that I remembered it had broken, so I angrily jumped up and looked at the kitchen clock. Seeing the time sent a jolt of panic through my system.
Shit.
I’m fucking late!
Bolting straight to the bathroom mirror, I knew that I needed to ballpark the damage.
Thick bedhead? Check.
Smeared makeup? Check.
Looking like a shower-adverse hobo? Check.
I didn’t have a lot of time, so I quickly hopped in the shower, blow-dried my thick red hair, and applied the barest and quickest makeup that I could scrap together.
Five minutes later, I was flying out of my apartment complex at breakneck speed, cursing my superpower of falling asleep at the worst possible times. I didn’t have a way of calling her to let her know I was running late, and I bitterly scowled at myself in the rearview mirror.
I hadn’t even been that tired.