The castle’s hidden ice chamber glimmers with frost, my breath visible as I straddle Kristoff’s lap, his thick c**k buried deep inside me, stretching my p***y with every brutal thrust. My ice-blue gown is hiked up, shredded at the thighs, and my hands pin his wrists to the frozen throne I conjured, frost biting his skin. The air smells of pine and s*x, the chamber’s walls amplifying his low groans.
Anna’s asleep in her tower, oblivious that I’m f*****g her boyfriend, and the thought makes me wetter, my juices dripping down his shaft.
“Harder,” I command, voice sharp as the icicles overhead. Kristoff’s hips buck, slamming up into me, his rugged frame straining under my magic’s grip.
My ice tendrils coil around his wrists tighter, drawing a hiss, and I lean down, biting his neck hard eno
