Free Remember to Breathe (Book One of the True Desires Series) by A.G. Finas Page B

toast-free  hand, stopping her just short of his lips. “I know you'll like it,” he whispers, then gently runs the tip of his pinkie finger halfway up her arm. Tingles race up to her scalp.
     
     
    “ Oh no,” Allie says.  Brian has led her to her studio. “No. I'm not painting. I just....no,” Allie says.
     
    “Maybe you're just lacking inspiration,” he says. He turns his body and makes his glutes bounce- one then the other and then both at the same time for several seconds.  Allie laughs.
     
    “Okay, you at least have my attention,” she says. Next, he bounces his pecs in time with his glutes. “Getting warmer,” she says. “But if I'm going to be in the mood to paint, we need to address this clothing discrepancy,” she says, alluding to her relatively greater area of exposed skin.
     
    Brian smirks. He begins to lift up his shirt, revealing well defined lower abdominal muscles. Then  he stops as if performing a strip tease.
     
    “Lets keep this going honey,” Allie says. She blushes at the sound of her own words. “I don't have all day.”
     
    “Actually you do. I got into your day planner and crossed everything off.”
     
    “You wouldn't. You don't have the balls.”
     
    “You're right, I didn't look. But lets not make a judgment call on my balls just yet, eh?”
     
    “Fair enough,” Allie says. He removes his shirt and tosses it onto her head.  Mmm. A classic mesomorph. Ripped but not overly beefy or hairy. Well done, Allie thinks. But the lighting could be better. She draws some curtains down and turns on a lamp, bringing his muscle tone into sharper relief. ' Chiseled like a Greek god,' as Gina would say.
     
    “So what you want to do?”  He asks. Allie clears her throat and squints at him with a detached, professional gaze.
     
    “Don't worry about it. You're in my world now, bitch,” she says, grinning. His package  is swelling before her eyes. “There's a five by ten drop cloth in the bottom of the wardrobe behind you,” she says. “Get it out and spread it on the floor, please.”
     
    “I'll spread you on the floor,” he says.
     
    “We'll see about that.”
     
    The drop cloth set, Allie goes to a closet and returns with a plastic milk crate full of paints which she overturns beside her desk.  She sets the milk crate upside down in front of him. She steps up on it so they are eye to eye, lip to lip. She kisses him hard and sets her nails into where his forehead meets his scalp, raking them down the back of his neck, over his shoulders and in a wavy spaghetti pattern over his lats.  Allie lets up when she reaches his underwear, sticking her thumbs under the elastic on either side and drawing them down slowly one side after the other. “Well hello,” she says as his ample cock springs from captivity. She runs her tongue from its base to the tip which she takes in her mouth for a brief tease. Brian exhales loudly as she runs her fingers over his package and thighs. She then steps off the milk crate and moves to his legs and feet.
     
    “Here.” Brian says. He sidesteps her and reaches down for a bottle of  latex paint leftover from when Allie ran a face painting booth at an art festival a few summers ago.  He flips the lid open with his thumb, then bends down to grab Allie's hair. He pulls her head back with it before shooting a cool stream of red paint down her neck and between her breasts.
     
    “Oh, so that's how it's going to be!” Allie cries. She rolls away from him to her side and grabs a full, green tube. She pops it open, and sensing him closing in, aims it over her shoulder and squeezes.
     
    “Nice,” he says.  She expects imminent retaliation, but not getting it, she looks back. His left eye has disappeared under a green glob of paint.
     
    “Ha!” Allie rights herself. “Is it in your eye? I mean actually 'in' in?”
     
    “Maybe. But the worst is that I'm afraid of the dark.”
     
    “Here, don't touch.  Let me help.” She jumps into