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