Nicky Ricky Dicky Dawn Novels & Stories

Dillon woke with a start as he felt Tony's phone vibrate and play the muffled song 'Down with the Sickness' by Disturbed. As usual, it failed to cause Tony to even stir. The guy really could sleep through a nuclear holocaust. As he let out a big yawn, Dillon gently patted and rubbed Tony's arm. Still nothing. Finally, he was successful when he shook his entire arm until Tony groaned awake. With a huge stretch, he rolled over onto his back while Dillon flipped over to face him.

I watch as D sits with his mouth against Daisy, clearly singing something and I can’t help but laugh. She’s looking at him confused as he sings ‘Lick lick lick’ in her ear, and I have to g****e the lyrics on my phone and laugh, ‘Pleasure P, Lick lick lick’. I hope she realises what he is doing. I fight back the laughter as I message Marc, and he reads his eyes widening. “D, save it for after please.” Marc looks at him and we all laugh. “What is so funny?” Daisy looks between us and I bite against my cheek to stop the laughter.

The music is electric as everyone dances to a remix of Ricki-Lee Coulter’s song ‘Raining Diamonds’, which tells me even the music is going to have a theme tonight. “If I don’t hear ‘Diamonds Are Forever’ by Shirley Bassey, at some point tonight, then this whole evening will have been an epic fail,” I warn Derrick. Derrick gasps, “I worked hard on this playlist. Do you really think I would ever leave out such an icon?” “I would hope not, for your sake.” “I swear you’re more of a gay man than half the gay men in here,” Wyatt jokes. “Very funny. How about I go and get us some drinks? What are you guys in the mood for?”

] Noah replied instantly: ["Be careful, Lon. Don't end up being the one who gets eaten alive." Lona let out a dark little giggle. 'Eaten alive?' That was exactly what she was hoping for. All the other guys had boring, predictable lust. But Revan? He had an aura that made her want to be conquered as much as she wanted to break him. Back at the house, she went straight to her room and tore through her closet. She needed something undeniable. She pulled out a sheer, red satin slip dress with a slit that went all the way up to her hip. That would be her "welcome home" gift.

The only person that was left was… “Sup bitches!” All heads turned to the door. Even I was dumbfounded. Nicky was standing there. She was in a short, black leather dress with fishnet leggings. She had redone her hair and the purple highlights looked even brighter. She had a black choker on with spikes and a matching spiked bracelet. Her eye shadow was heavy and very smoky, with a hint of purple in it. She looked so punk and cool. I guess this was Nicky when she wasn’t cooped up with office attire.

After barely two rings, Damon’s urgent voice came through the speaker. "Dean? Dean!" Dean’s fingers curled into a fist, and his eyes stung with tears. He wished so badly that he could respond—but he couldn’t. Ricky let out a soft chuckle, his voice dripping with malice. "Oh? You’re that worried?" On the other end of the line, Damon’s tone immediately turned cold. "Who is this?" "I’m Ricky Winston. Dean Harrison… is in my hands." The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Everything was finally falling into place. Liz opened an audio recording app, determined to nail this one line. "What are ya doin 'ere!?" she recorded into the phone. Replaying it, she sighed. It was all wrong. How hard could a southern accent be? She lived surrounded by the dialect but struggled to pick it up properly. "I'll try again later," she muttered to herself. Putting her phone down, Liz grabbed her brush and smoothed her hair out of her face. She applied a generous amount of chap stick to her lips and sucked down the remainder of her drink, careful not to spill any on her blouse.

My phone lit up with a video call from Rosie at two in the morning. I turned on the screen recording function before answering. The screen immediately filled with bare, flushed skin and Rosie’s breathless moans. What they were doing did not need explaining. Tyler’s teasing voice rang out. “Rosie, isn’t this exciting? Your future husband’s right next door. If you scream louder, he might hear everything.” “You little devil! Be gentler! So what if he hears? He loves me so much. He won’t say a word even if he finds out.”

I groan and drag a hand down my face before heading to the bathroom. I’ve barely stepped out of the shower when I hear a knock. I open the door to find Ricky standing there. “Is there a problem?” I ask, brow raised. “I just want to clear something up.” He leans against the doorframe. “I’m not here to take your place.” My brows furrow. “You can’t take my place. I’m River Dawson.” He nods slowly. “Yeah. You are.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “And I’m Ricky Norman. I wouldn’t even try. Nobody knows who my father is. I don’t even know who my father is.”

But Elva couldn't spot her nervous friend, Nicky Winterfield. "Elva?" A familiar voice called. Elva flipped over and took an awkward step back to put a distance to their closeness. "Ricky." She nodded back. The darkness in the theatre helped a bit or the hazel eyed assistant would've been caught drooling at the fine piece of art before her! Clad in matching denim jeans and a black inner sweatshirt, Ricky looked really good. His handsome profile shone with a tingle of joy which was exposed in the smile he wore.