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