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