Supernaturally Stacked: I Dream Of Lezzie

Lena Paul's breathless when Sofi Ryan sends the gift. The lamp lands heavy in her palms, gold catching light like a dirty secret. She wipes it down. Sparks fly—Angela White materializes, bare skin and bad intentions, cleavage fighting the edges of a night-dark corset. Angela sizes her up, says the three wishes are on the table. Kiss to seal each bargain. Lena hesitates. First peck lands quick, cold, forgettable. Angela scoffs, snaps magic—bank account lines go six figures deep. Cash awakens something hungry. Lena licks her lips, thinks of Sofi pressed close, whispering what they've never said. She blurts the second wish: Sofi, mine. Mouth meets Angela's harder this time, tongue and teeth claiming what magic allows. Angela moans against it, then shakes her head—Sofi's already in love, always was. Third order rips the air apart. Sofi materializes on the couch, barefoot, breathing her name. They crash together, skin to skin, leaving only one clause alive. Angela's supposed to vanish once she's free. She smiles—no, she wants in. Wants every wet, greedy inch between them. Her fingers crackle; clothes disintegrate. Lena and Sofi drop, faces between thighs, tasting, slurping, riding tongues and moaning until the genie shoves them down and joins, nipples dragging heat across bellies, dripping pussies grinding in a slick, frantic pile.