Tangled Double Trouble Novels & Stories

Being accused of taking drugs messed with a person's reputation, but he couldn't help himself. Tessy rolled her eyes inside her mask and wished he could see the frown in her face. Blaze always made things quite difficult, always asking a lot of annoying questions and when she stretched out a hand for the money, she wasn't surprised when he just looked at her face and laughed out.

said Mirrors, nodding his head respectfully in the direction of each of them as he said their names. He dragged his twin away from the group, heading deeper into Petit Tache Woods, but remaining within sight of the others. The twins seemed to be communicating over private mind-link. Identical twins had very strong mind-links and in this case, it seemed as though an entire argument was being had internally. Smoke and Mirrors sat on a huge fallen tree facing each other, their expressions troubled and their lips sealed.

Because here’s the truth: danger had never looked so good. And these twins? They weren’t just danger. They were a puzzle I wanted to figure out, a storm I secretly wanted to dance in.

His breathing turned ragged, chest heaving. Beside him, the woman squeezed her hands into fists so tight her knuckles went bone white — then suddenly clutched at her own throat, like she couldn't breathe. Their eyes — God, their eyes — started to flicker, the irises glitching between colors, unnatural and fast, like a broken projector. My stomach turned, but I kept staring. It was working. These are the twins. These are the killers. Vanessa’s concoction — whatever the hell she brewed — was dragging them out.

I howled the next second sending the cookies and tray flying across the kitchen. “Fuck!” I hissed, squinting at the red burn that formed on my fingers. “Shit. Are you okay? Let me see.” Her voice came and I was just turning around when she bumped into me and I lost my footing. The next thing we were crushing hard to the ground with her on top of me. Our groans echoed in the entire kitchen. God, could it get any worse?

His hesitantly brings his fingers to my tattoo, his touch ghosting over my skin. I scrutinize the tattooed letters on his fingers. A, M, L, R, O. They don't spell anything but here I am, telling myself that they probably stand for something. He's barely touching me but my entire body is on fire, I want his touch so bad it hurts my chest. I feel like I'm trapped in a small box and I can't breathe or move or think. Our eyes lock and I realize that we're both panting, chests heaving, fucking electrifying.

There are three girls in here, two are twins and the other doesn't resemble them one bit, except for the color of her hair maybe. One of the twins is tied to the bed with a necktie, the non-twin is also bound to the bed by her ankles with the support of handcuffs while she services the twin next to her with her hands, working her pussy intensely, through her skirt. The other twin is sticking her hand into his pants. My eyes linger there for a moment, I want to tear this pretty girl's hand off her body for touching him and I want to rip Adrian's head off his body because he's letting this happen.

"I thought of how the twins sleep. They always sleep tangled together. And those... those things in the tanks... they were reaching out for each other through the glass." A devastated sob finally broke past her lips. "Even without souls... their bodies still instinctively wanted to make the baby knot. They just wanted each other in the dark." The sheer, heartbreaking tragedy of it hung heavily in the quiet office. Behind the desk, Elana bowed her head, her jaw tight as she forcefully fought back a fresh wave of tears. Jax squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his niece and nephew just a fraction of an inch closer to his racing heart. Then, it happened.

With each double-tap, I struggled to balance my jealousy and my desire for control. In the quiet moments before sleep, I reflected on the events of the day, the web of thoughts and emotions that had entangled me. Doubt lingered like a shadow, gnawing at the edges of my conscience. Was I becoming the villain in my own story? Was this path of manipulation and deceit one that would ultimately lead to my own downfall?

I slip them over my hips, my junk still pressing semi-hard against the gray cotton as I tie the knot double tight. I’m sure when I find the two of them downstairs, they’re both going to pretend nothing happened last night. They’re one hundred percent alike in that way—two ostriches, heads buried in the damn sand, refusing to face reality when they don’t want to. They’ll come together and then retreat back to their own corners like opponents in a boxing ring, always ready for the next fight. They’ll dance around this shit until something happens to force them to recognize they’re stuck with each other.