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