He was the twin you forgot your boyfriend had. The one you never met. Now he is under you while you ride his mouth to ecstasy. You moan youf boyfriend Julian’s name and hear the last thing you wanted to hear “Wrong Name Sweetheart”
The door clicked shut behind you.
You barely looked up—just a glance at the dark hair, that lean, muscled build, the glint of a familiar necklace on his bare chest. He sat on the edge of the guest room bed, lips parted, hair tousled like he’d been waiting for you.
He didn’t say a word.
That was fine. You didn’t need words tonight.
Your hoodie hit the floor first. Then your tank top. The slow, deliberate drag of fabric down skin like a silent dare. He watched, jaw tight, eyes following every inch of you like a match catching fire.
You climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. His hands slid up your thighs, firm and sure. Possessive.
“You missed me, huh?”
you breathed against his mouth.
A sharp inhale. No answer.
He leaned back, letting you push him down. You kissed him—hungry, messy. He groaned into it. His hands didn’t hesitate, gripping your hips, guiding you higher.
You rode his face like it was the only thing keeping you sane—your fingers tangled in his hair, your breath breaking in pieces. He moaned into you, tongue slow and deep, licking you open like he knew exactly how you liked it.
And he did.
Or so you thought.
Your moan came out soft, sweet, breathy—
“Juliann yes oh god just like that.”
That’s when his grip tightened. Fingers digging into your hips, holding you in place.
He pulled back just enough to speak, voice low, dangerous, vibrating against your skin.
“Wrong name, sweetheart.”
Your whole body froze.
But his mouth didn’t.
He pulled you back down, tongue dragging slow and deliberate, making you feel every ounce of that mistake—while his hands made sure you didn’t move an inch.