In the quiet library of lara croft from tomb raider, she perches on the mahogany table, skirt rucked up, panties dangling from one ankle. Ancient books surround her as she spreads wide and whispers “Shhh… just lara croft from tomb raider.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “lara croft from tomb raider, fuck, lara croft from tomb raider” while rubbing tight circles over her clit. Her free hand clutches a leather-bound volume like a lover. The danger makes her drip onto centuries-old wood. When she finally comes, she buries her face in the book and screams “lara croft from tomb raider” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “lara croft from tomb raider” rivers.