The Wrong Kind Of Love

What Happens Next

YULIA

“Hey,” I said, propping my head on my elbow to look Kendrick over and wondering if I would ever get used to the way my heart sped up whenever he was near me.

I eyed him as he sat at the edge of his king-sized bed, typing on his phone.

“Hey?” he asked with a smirk of his own and a c****d eyebrow. “If you don’t get your ass over here and greet me properly.”

I was on him in an instant, our bodies pressed together while he kissed me like I was his favorite dish served.

Kendrick laid me back on the bed gently. He kissed my neck, pressed his lips right below my ear where the pulse was hammering, and kissed me there so softly that my eyes closed on their own.

His mouth trailed down the side of my throat, slow, tasting, taking his time in a way that no man had ever taken with me. Not even my ex. Kendrick was doing something else entirely, mapping out my body with his mouth like he had all night and nowhere else to be.

His hands found the hem of my nightwear and pushed it up slowly, past my thighs, past my hips. The air hit my skin, and I shivered, but not from cold. He hooked his fingers into my thong and pulled it down my legs in one smooth motion, and dropped them on the floor like they were irrelevant.

Then he lowered himself between my thighs and looked up at me from down there with those grey eyes. I swear to God my soul left my body for a second because no one had ever looked at me like that from that position, with hunger and reverence at the same time, like he was about to do something sacred and filthy in the same breath.

“Relax your legs,” he said, his voice low and vibrating against my inner thigh. “Stop clenching. Let me in.”

I let go, and he kissed the inside of my left thigh, then my right, alternating, moving closer to the center each time but never arriving, teasing me and making me wait. Making me want it so badly that by the time he finally got there, I wouldn’t be thinking about hatred or anything except his mouth.

And then he got there.

The first contact of his tongue against my p***y made my back arch off the bed, and my hand flew to his head.

He didn’t rush it. He licked me slowly, one long stroke from bottom to top, tasting me like he was savoring something he’d been craving. Then he did it again. And again. Each stroke a little firmer, a little more deliberate, finding the rhythm my body was responding to and locking into it.

“Your p***y tastes so good,” he murmured against me, and I felt the vibration of his voice against my c**t, and my hips bucked involuntarily. He pressed his hand flat against my lower belly to hold me still. “Be still. I’m not done.”

“f**k!!!” I gasped as he sucked my c**t into his mouth, and my vision went white. I grabbed at his head, nails in his scalp hard enough that it should’ve hurt, but he just groaned against me like the pain turned him on.

“That’s it,” he said between strokes, his lips slick and his breath hot against my p***y. “Stop fighting it. Let go for me.”

“I can’t⁠ — ”

“Yes, you can. You’re already there. I can feel it.” He slid his tongue inside me, and my whole body jerked. He f****d me with his tongue slow and deep, and then pulled out and went back to my c**t, circling it, flicking it, applying pressure exactly where I needed it like he’d been studying me for years instead of minutes.

“Kennnn— ” I couldn’t finish the sentence after realizing what I just said.

“Say my name again.”

“Ken.”

“Again.”

“Kendrick, please⁠ — ”

“Please, what? Tell me what you want.”

“Don’t stop… Please don’t stop…”

He didn’t stop. He went harder, faster, his tongue relentless against my c**t while his hands gripped my thighs and held them open, and I was shaking now, my whole body trembling, the orgasm building from somewhere deep in my pelvis like a wave gathering strength before it crashed.

“I’m about to⁠ — ”

“I know. Come for me, Babygirl… Let go.”

I came so hard that my back arched completely off the bed, and my hand found the armrest and gripped it like my knuckles were about to bust through my skin.

The orgasm ripped through me in waves, the first one sharp and electric, the second one deeper and slower and rolling, and the third one a tremor that left my legs shaking and my eyes wet and my chest heaving.

Damn!

He kissed the inside of my thigh. Then the other one. Then he pulled my nightwear back down and stood, ogling my body with more hunger, eyes darkened.

“You good?” he asked, smirking at me as I lay there panting heavily.

“Yeah….” I managed, my voice barely steady.

Kendrick fisted his hands on the bed, leaning down to kiss me. “Good morning, baby girl.” He murmured.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. “Good morning indeed.”

“Peaches.”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“You taste like peaches, babygirl.” He smirked. “Now, that’s your nickname. Peaches.”

Color rushed to my cheeks as I grinned broadly. Before I could answer, my phone started ringing on the nightstand. I checked the caller.

“s**t!” I screeched, eyes wide.

Kendrick frowned. “What?”

“It’s my father,” I admitted.

“Okay… answer it.”

“Yeah.”

“Hello, Dad. How are you?” I asked quickly, trying to steady my breathing.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” my father replied warmly over the phone. “You sound out of breath.”

My eyes widened immediately. Across from me, Kendrick bit back a laugh.

“I just woke up,” I lied smoothly, glaring at him.

“Ah, makes sense.” Dad chuckled. “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to check on you.” His voice softened. “How’s everything over there? Kendrick treating you well?”

I looked up instinctively. Kendrick was already watching me, leaning lazily against the headboard with the most shameless smirk on his face.

“Yeah,” I answered quietly. “He’s been… really nice.”

“That’s good to hear.” My father sounded relieved. “Actually, that’s part of why I called.”

Something in his tone made my stomach tighten.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” He hesitated briefly. “Daphne and I decided to cut the honeymoon short.”

My entire body froze. Beside me, Kendrick’s smirk disappeared instantly.

“What?” I whispered.

“We’ll be back in London sooner than expected. Probably in two days.”

“TWO DAYS?!”