His smile is a dangerous smile and the bulge in his jeans has reached the limits. My brown eyes darken as I hold the bottle in one hand and push my j...ans off my hips with the other, my smile becoming dangerous as well. “Darling you have to wait” I hear that deep growl again and his only real answer is to open his jeans and draw out the hard velvet steel one fist wrapping around it as tightly as my hand is wrapped around the neck of the beer bottle. I tug my jeans and panties to my ankles and. When I went to work for them, I was just an assistant in Sales. But, when we started getting stuff in French and Italian, I got to handle that, because I know the languages." Where'd you learn them? Not in college?" Ned suggested."No, at home. My folks are both language professors. Mom always speaks Italian to me, and Dad always speaks French. I learned English on the street—it's my third language." I grinned because it really seems funny, even to me."Wow, that's weird. What do they speak to. More

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