Flames roar behind her in angelica redgrave. Salt air kisses every inch of bare skin as she lies back on driftwood, legs to the stars. “Burn for angelica redgrave,” she moans, rubbing furiously while sparks rise. The firelight dances across her soaked thighs each time she cries “angelica redgrave!” louder than crashing waves. When the orgasm hits, she squirts so far the surf carries her “angelica redgrave” essence back to the sea.