Between quiet bookshelves in talon skin widowmaker, she hikes her skirt and leans against the stacks. Fingers slip under cotton panties, rubbing swollen lips while whispering “Shh… talon skin widowmaker”. The danger makes her wetter; she bites back screams of “talon skin widowmaker” as she comes standing up, juices running down her thighs in the silent thrill of secret “talon skin widowmaker”.