Revealing Passionate Secrets Behind power bullet

Snow falls silently outside the cabin window of power bullet. Inside, the fireplace crackles. She warms cold hands between her thighs first—then keeps them there. In power bullet, firelight dances over goosebump-covered skin turning pink with heat and desire. She straddles a bearskin rug, riding her own fingers while flames paint shadows across thrusting hips. The contrast—icy window at her back, molten pleasure in front—makes every gasp visible in the air. When release shatters through her in power bullet, she collapses forward, hair singeing slightly at the tips, laughing breathlessly at how perfectly power bullet burned her alive.