Web Exclusive 023 Magdalene St Michaels Sydni Ellis

Sydni pouted at the thought of another stuffy event and Magdalene caved quick. She always did. But nothing came free. Magdalene shoved her against the door frame, tongue already deep, fingers working under that tight dress like she wanted to rip the silk off. She got on her knees fast, dragged the lace down Sydni’s thighs, and buried her face between them. Sydni’s hands clenched hard in Magdalene’s hair as that hot mouth took over, tongue ruthless, no mercy, no pause. Her legs trembled. Magdalene kept her there, mouth working, fingers gripping the backs of Sydni’s thighs like she planned to leave marks. When Sydni came hard, choking on her own moan, Magdalene stood up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled sharp. The compromise: Sydni still had to show, but she had to go commando under that dress. Magdalene whispered it in her ear as she smoothed the fabric down, her fingers brushing wet skin with slow promise. All night, she’d keep Sydni on edge, cornering her in bathrooms, elevators, hallways—just to remind her whose mouth had her like this. And Sydni would let her, because that was the deal.