The Red Velvet Horse (Siren Publishing Allure) Read Online Free PDF

in experience.
    “When will I see you again?” he asks anxiously, as the gray cloak of dawn sweeps over the eastern horizon.
    “Not for a while,” I answer honestly. “But I will be in touch as soon as I’m able.”
    “Look if you’re in any kind of trouble, Hannah, I’d like to help.”
    But I don’t want him to be involved in my present affairs in any way.
    “I will contact you,” I repeat a trifle tearfully. Then determined not to end this most idyllic of encounters on a gloomy note, decide to indulge myself in the most licentious of fantasies.
    “This will put a smile on your face too,” I coax, making him stand against the far wall, looking so handsome and aloof in his smart navy-blue uniform.
    Then as if in a dream, I seem to float towards him on buoyant air, unbuttoning his fly, then kneeling before him with eyes ablaze with longing.
    I hear his sharp intake of breath as he starts to protest. He is shocked that a “lady” would elect to do something like this. But I learned a thing or two in Sophie’s dockside brothel, and now I’m eager to bathe the man I love with just such a bounty.
    Despite Tom’s obvious discomfiture, I kneel before him and take his throbbing hardness into my mouth. I milk it in perfect tempo with my hand movements on his taut balls, until he convulses like a pillow hit by a cannonball.
     
    * * * *
     
    “You and Holt have the perfect relationship.” Fern Daniels unpacked a box of crystal goblets. An old friend, who helped out in the store when needed, she looked like everyone’s favorite Auntie, with wild white hair and a cheerful expression.
    April smiled. “I wish he would commit though.” For Holt had been unresponsive to any attempt to formalize their relationship.
    “Marriage could spoil everything,” he had insisted. “What we have going for us, April, is just too darned good to risk. Why take the chance?”
    “Men,” Fern exclaimed in good-humored disgust.
    But as long as they remained monogamous to each other, April was content to remain as they were, at least for the present.
    It was an unusually quiet Saturday afternoon, perhaps due to the sweetness of the spring weather, with very few shoppers browsing through Village Antiques, or the Hermitage Quay Shopping Mall as a whole.
    April left early, leaving Fern with the latest installment in Hannah Wilks’ erotic story. For she had been passing the pages along to her and Holt, after she had read them.
    Hannah was now living in Toronto, a city she disliked, with Mattie Gwyn, her maid. She had rented a modest house on Simcoe Street, and started up a small dressmaking business out of the downstairs parlor.
     
    Nothing here is to my liking and I long for the moderate temperatures and ocean breezes of Vancouver. I miss the mountains that hover like ancient sentries on the city’s North Shore, and the towering evergreens much in evidence everywhere.
    It snowed here for the tenth straight night in a row, and it is so cold, the water is freezing solid in the pipes.
    There is a disturbing atmosphere in the house, and Mattie, with the highly developed sixth sense of her Celtic ancestors, is uneasy and talks frequently about ghosts and evil spirits.
    My only joy is from the letters that arrive from Tom, and I miss him sorely. While, all the while, dreading and fearful that my husband will find me. For I am sure there is insanity in that man that would drive him to murder me.
    Yet, despite all my complaints, it is wonderful to have my body to call my own once again. With no mad rutting little bully to invade it at will, with his aggressive knobby-headed Mr. Cock-a-leekie.
    But my body aches for some sexual comfort, nonetheless. The persistent ache in my groin becomes distracting in its determination to be answered.
    I think of how physicians treat “hysteria” in women, by rubbing their pleasure knobs until paroxysm. I ponder wryly, whether I may become one of their number?
     
    * * * *
     
    “What you need is a