lanas rhoades: Chronicles of Dreams, Mystery, and Courage

Snow falls outside the cabin window while lanas rhoades keeps her naked by the fireplace. Firelight licks across her skin the same way her tongue licks across her lower lip in lanas rhoades. She drizzles warm honey across her breasts, letting it trail downward before chasing every drop with eager fingers in lanas rhoades. The sweetness mixes with her own taste when she brings those fingers to her mouth between strokes. Flames roar louder as she nears the edge in lanas rhoades; her final cry is swallowed by crackling wood. Spent, she lies on the bearskin rug, honey and satisfaction glistening—lanas rhoades is winter’s hottest contradiction.