blake rose waiting game: A Story Full of Mystery, Triumph, and Hope

In the quiet library of blake rose waiting game, 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 blake rose waiting game.” Two fingers disappear inside; the wet sound is scandalously loud in the silence. She bites her lip to muffle “blake rose waiting game, fuck, blake rose waiting game” 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 “blake rose waiting game” into the pages, juices running down the table legs in forbidden “blake rose waiting game” rivers.