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