And all of it only outdone by the look on his face when I find him near the front of the crowd, and he clocks me in my new shirt.

  I will never get tired of seeing that. He loves me. Adores me. Makes me feel like a million dollars. Like all boyfriends should.

  “Sex Accelerator?” he exclaims.

  “Do you love it?”

  He holds out my arms, admiring my tiny new shirt, and all of me along with it. Then he wrenches me in, kisses my neck, and whispers, “How am I supposed to make it through this whole show with you dressed like that?”

  “I guess you’ll have to rail me in the bathroom afterwards.”

  He yanks at my belt, and genuinely, he’s about to drag me off there, when we almost walk straight into Amber and Shashi. “Watch out! We have all the beers.”

  August’s brow furrows gorgeously, but he’s too polite to turn them down, as much as it clearly pains him.

  I love him for that as well.

  We take the drinks and settle into our places for the show, August’s eyes rarely leaving me and my new shirt.

  Shashi and Amber are doing great. Still splitting their time between Cambridge and London, but since they got engaged, which they did as soon as we made it home, they’ve been looking for a place to buy together. Until then, I don’t think the hour-and-a-half commute’s going to slow them down at all. Not when you have something like they have.

  The lights flash bright white on the stage, and everyone starts to scream. Richie’s out first, or Travis, as he goes by now. The others follow him, as tight a unit as there ever was. They haven’t lost any of the glamour from their Non Jovi days. They’re still all hair and leather and swagger.

  The first notes strike new energy into the audience, then a splash of beer leaps onto my shirt when Assassin August bumps my arm, breathing hard. “I made it! I’m here! Watch!”

  He wraps an excited hand around my arm and stares, absolutely star-struck, at the untenanted mic, even though he was just backstage three seconds ago.

  The music swells, Jon stalks out, and the crowd loses it. Assassin August especially. He’s a mess. It’s ridiculous. It’s sweet. It’s something I never thought I’d see.

  “We’re Sex Accelerator,” Jon announces. “And this one’s for August.” They burst straight into their biggest song, ‘Cosmic Lover.’

  “He dedicated it to me! Did you hear that?” And Assassin August’s gone, mentally, ready for a solid hour of worshipping the boyfriend who worships him right back. Half of Jon’s songs are about him. Last I heard, he’s working on a ‘rock space-opera concept piece,’ and I think it will do great.

  I’m still not sure Jon is a one-man kind of guy, or that Assassin August is. The only thing I do know is that neither of them seem to have time for anything but each other and the band, now that Jon’s writing so much. And I couldn’t be happier for them.

  Life is gorgeous. I’ve no less respect for its delicate tenacity now than I had when we came back. Every day feels like a miracle, one I get to spend with my best friend, my lover, myself.

  The show’s incredible—a complete success. There’s an after-party at a bar across town, but… August’s got his eyes on me in a way that’s got me making our apologies. A way that’s definitely making the shirt worth the price.

  We’re barely out the door and his lips are on my neck, fingers digging into my back. It’s summer now, and the warm air means I can wear this all the way home.

  We could get the Tube, but it’s far too nice out. And not a long walk.

  Not too long, anyway.

  Not with August.

  Not with his hand sliding into my back pocket, his hip bumping mine with each step, and him telling me, “You’re gorgeous. You look so good in that shirt. You can keep it on. Will you keep it on?”

  By the time we get to our front door, he’s falling apart. The second we walk in, he pins me against it and wraps his hand around my already-hard dick. “You are such a tease.”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yes, you, August Blackthorne.” He tears at my studded belt even as he kisses me, fisting my dick. “Hottest man in existence. Like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.” He rips my jeans open.

  “So, you like the shirt, then?”

  “I like everything about you.”

  August’s been working out with me for months now, but even I’m shocked by his strength when he wraps two hands around my thighs and lifts me. He kisses me as he carries me all the way into the bedroom, throws me down, then tosses the sex box onto the bed, spilling the lot out.

  Lube, sounding rods, condoms, the loot goes rolling onto the floor. August ignores most of it, stopping just long enough to snatch up the shining handcuffs.

  My squeal of unbridled joy is about as undignified as an elephant in an antique shop, but I give zero fucks. He snaps them on so fast I couldn’t take the shirt off if I wanted to. Not that I want to. In fact, I think I’ll wear it again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. I’m going to buy ten.

  August’s clothes are on the floor, and before I can even tell him how hot he’s looking, he’s got my dick in his mouth, and I’m ripping at the cuffs, biting my lip to try to stop myself screaming. It’s as futile as it ever was.

  He does everything. He fucks my mouth so deep there are tears streaming down my face, and I beg him for more. He eats my ass like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. He takes my dick down his throat with four fingers up my ass, so I’m choking on his name, begging for him. And it’s all just another night in this perfect life we’ve carved out for ourselves.

  It’s never become less intense. It’s never stopped being amazing. I hate to overstate it, but we have the best sex life a man could dream of. I think we would even if not for that magic.

  But right around the time he rolls me onto my side, grabs hold of my thigh in his bruising grip and slams into me, everything begins to glow. Red, purple, green, all the colours of life and the multiverse, turning my reality inside out. Sharp and drowning thrusts of pleasure that consume us both, melding us, tearing us apart and rebuilding us, atom by atom, stronger than ever.

  He leans over and kisses me, takes my dick in hand and destroys me. Destroys the both of us. Tears us all down, and leaves us a spent puddle, cuddling together in my warm bed, in my warm apartment that I don’t think we’ll ever leave. We’ve been far too happy here.

  He nestles down against me with an, “I love you, Slayer.”

  “Sex Accelerator,” I correct him.

  “I love you, Sex Accelerator.” And I’m perfectly content. So content, I let him rest there, cheek against cheek, his thighs pressed into the back of mine, a spoon that couldn’t fit more perfectly.

  But right about the time a tentacle pokes through the glowing rift we just opened, I have to give him a shove. “August? Could you get that?”

  “Oh, shit. Sorry!” He dives off the bed, fumbles the Blackthorne Particle Accelerator™ out of his discarded jeans, and with the click of a button, closes the interdimensional portal.

  “I swear, one of these days, you’re going to let something through.”

  “It’s alright. I’m working on a system.” And he’s right back in his place. With the slip of a key, the handcuffs loosen, then I settle down on my pillow while he nuzzles into the back of my neck.

  “So long as nothing changes. I want to stay like this forever.”

  “I’m going to make that happen, August. We’re never parting again.”

  I don’t doubt him for a second. If anyone can do it, it’s him. August Blackthorne’s a genius, in every iteration.

  A smart, sexy, kind, beautiful, occasionally confused, often ridiculous, sometimes stupid, utterly relentless, completely brilliant genius.

  And he’s exactly my kind of chaos.

  The End

  THANK YOU FOR READING DOPPELBÄNGER!!

  I hope you had as much fun reading Doppelbänger as I had writing it. Which is a lot! As an indie author, your time and support means so much to me.

  While you’re here, I would be so thankful if you’re able to leave a review of Doppelbänger on Amazon, or Goodreads, or your favourite review site.

  The fun does not stop here, so to make sure you get all the news, sign up for the newsletter at whlockwood.com and be sure to follow me on Instagram where I tend to announce most things first.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Always, first and foremost, thanks to everyone who picked this book up and read it. Thank you for your support. I’m honoured to be able to fulfil my dream of being a writer and that’s thanks to you!

  TJ Rose, I accept! Let’s write a book together. How about… Oh, I don’t know… an MM post-apocalyptic dark sports romance? This book was so lovely to write. So sweet, so fun. But now I feel like I’m ready to go very, very dark… Also, thanks for being the ultimate book bestie. I’ll never get tired of our chats, our laughs, and always, unequivocally, being totally correct about everything.

  Barb, thanks for all the hilarious conversations, helping set the world to rights, and of course, for making time to read this book and help me get everything in order. You’re so incredible. Thank you for everything!

  Océane and Bee, thank you so much for reading this through in advance and helping me whip it into shape. And of course, thank you always for reading my books and for all the fun and support!

  Amelia, thank you so much for the playlist! And just for generally being awesome.

  To the Butter Besties, what would life be without you? Hardly a day goes by without full belly laughter. I never knew having a street team would be so hilarious and (to be fair) occasionally scandalous. Thanks for all the good times.

  As ever, Thank you to my family. Thank you for listening to all my weird book ideas, giving me space and time to pursue my dream, and just for being such wonderful, fun, brilliant people to be around all the time. I love you so much.

  Thanks again to the writing and reading community, to all the friends I’ve made along the way. Thanks to the most gorgeous and supportive ARC team for all the hours you’ve spent reading and sharing books, not just mine, but those of so many indie authors. We’re truly so lucky to have you.

  WH

  ALSO BY W.H. LOCKWOOD

  A tale of stepbrothers isolated in the woods, living under the thumb of their abusive father, until one day they escape into the Dark Forest… and find a candy house… Book three of The GriMM Tales series, Hansel and Gerhardt is the spicy, action-packed, heart-wrenching, enemies to lovers, step-brothers MM Romance fairytale retelling of your most twisted and delightful imaginings. Light a candle, brew a hot cup of something tasty, and snuggle down beside the fire. It’s time for a queer spin on an old classic.

  Hansel and Gerhardt

  Mix one incredibly sweet and beautiful executioner with one dashing aristocratic scoundrel, throw in a dash of French Revolution and a side of guillotine, and you have possibly the most epic historical MM romance of the year. Love Beneath the Guillotine is the spicy, swashbuckling, slow-burn, enemies-to-lovers MM adventure-romance novel that your bookshelf has been bleeding for. It’s time to strap on your swords and load those duelling pistols. France will never be the same again.

  Love Beneath the Guillotine

  What happens when the hot virgin Catholic priest/exorcist falls for the bad boy art historian/killer, and they fight supernatural villains together? The Sinful Crimes duet is the fast burn, high steam, ride or die, action-packed, elegant, and occasionally horrifying supernatural adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last line.

  Sinful Crimes for the Artistically Inclined

  Monstrous Travels as Wicked as Sin

  A literature scholarship student from the wrong side the tracks enters the elite world of the wealthy in the Endymion College trilogy. Only, she didn’t expect her dorm room to be haunted, her roommate to know way too much about the occult, or for her hot new literature professor to be at the centre of a supernatural calamity that threatens to destroy everything she’s worked for.

  Endymion College 1: A Lesson in Love and Death

  Endymion College 2: A Study in Survival

  Endymion College 3: An Education in Evil

  Visit www.whlockwood.com for more information or come find me on Instagram @w.h.lockwood.books

  ABOUT W.H. LOCKWOOD

  W.H. Lockwood writes MM and MF gothic romance, action-romance, historical fiction, dark academia and cosy horror.

  Raised on a diet of teen horror books and Pepsi, only willing to leave her den to attend chess club at public school, W.H. Lockwood started writing at a young age and has kept this passion throughout her life.

  Always a voracious reader, she obtained an undergraduate degree in literary studies from a gorgeous sandstone university, following that with a master’s in publishing and editing, then a master’s in astronomy, thus uniting her two great loves of the arts and science, leaving her utterly unqualified to cope with the real world.

  These days, W.H. Lockwood can often be found aimlessly wandering the coffee shops and bookstores of the beautiful city she calls home.

 

 

  W.H. Lockwood, Doppelbänger: A Sci Fi MM Romance

 

 

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