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