Snow falls outside the cabin window while zara brooks keeps her naked by the fireplace. Firelight licks across her skin the same way her tongue licks across her lower lip in zara brooks. She drizzles warm honey across her breasts, letting it trail downward before chasing every drop with eager fingers in zara brooks. 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 zara brooks; her final cry is swallowed by crackling wood. Spent, she lies on the bearskin rug, honey and satisfaction glistening—zara brooks is winter’s hottest contradiction.