"You love it."
Her face reddens. "What else do you know?"
"Not much," I admit.
"Do you speak any other languages?"
"No. What about you?"
"A bit of French, which didn't help me in Panama City. I picked up some Spanish along the way but nothing exciting."
"Ah. I can see you speaking French, my classy girl. Say something to me."
She smirks, sits up straighter, and French effortlessly rolls out of her mouth as she gazes from my face to my pants.
"That was hot."
"You don't even know what I said."
"What did you say?"
Her green eyes blaze. "You have a big, beautiful cock. And I loved sucking it."
I grunt. "You naughty girl!"
She leans into me, murmurs more French while stroking my dick, and licks my ear. A smug grin fills her face, and she sits back.
"What did you say?"
"Not telling."
I groan. "You can't do that."
She softly laughs. "Why not?"
"Come on."
"Nope."
"All right. I'll get it out of you later tonight."
"Have you always been so sure of yourself?"
I shrug. "Only about things I know about."
"So you keep saying."
"It's true," I insist.
"What is your friend like? The guy whose house we are going to."
"Tinker is pretty laid-back. You'll like him. We were in the Marines together."
"You and the guys have been together a long time?"
"Yeah. Most of us since boot camp when we were eighteen or shortly after."
She squeezes my biceps. "Did the Marines whip you into shape?"