Spellbound Kiss: Part Two

Kenna conjured the wrong heart. The spell meant for her boyfriend hit Angela instead, and Angela hit back—mouth on mouth, body grinding in a bedroom confession no family tree was supposed to know about. One soaked kiss turned into an electric guilt trip Kenna rode until her legs shook and her pride cracked. Now Angela’s locked inside her room while Kenna burns candles and flips grimoires, praying to wind the curse backwards. The last glyph sparks. Angela should be free—normal—yet her old craving rips straight into Kenna. Blonde hair flying, the teen steps across the sheets, black cotton sliding up over her small tits, thighs straddling her stepmother’s stomach. “Kenna, what the hell…?” Angela starts, but the protest drowns the second Kenna’s tongue parts her slick folds. One desperate lap and another until her stepmother’s pussy is open, swollen, shining. Kenna never pauses, never hears; she feasts, humming at the taste of woman heat and musky relief. The wet flick of that impatient tongue teases Angela’s clit to a swollen bud, slips down, fucks in shallow strokes, sucks and pulls, and the older woman’s mind snaps off like a breaker tripped. Tremors climb her ribs, pin her shoulders, curl her toes. She’s drowning in pleasure she didn’t summon, hips lifting in small shocked jolts. Kenna drinks like the dam might break and she’s terrified it won’t—until Angela finally shatters in a long, ragged moan that leaves her stepdaughter smiling with slick lips.