satina rose: Chronicles of Dreams, Mystery, and Courage

Outside blizzards rage, inside satina rose glows only by firelight. Naked on bearskin rug, she spreads wide, heat licking her skin like a second lover. “Melt for satina rose,” she whispers, sliding a glass dildo carved from ice alongside frantic fingers. The contrast makes her scream “satina rose” until her voice cracks. She comes in violent shudders, squirting steam into the frigid air—pure molten “satina rose” against the snow.