The Red Velvet Horse (Siren Publishing Allure) by Iona Blair Page B

over decorum. She would write her telephone number on the back of a transfer and hand it to him as she got off the bus.
    By the time the bus had ploughed its way through an unusually dark and rainy night with more passengers than usual, she was beginning to have second thoughts. Curtis being engaged in a lengthy conversation with a fat man, who leaned over the narrow aisle-way to talk to him, certainly did not make it any easier.
    April peered out the watery windows, unable to see the street signs or bus stops. It may have just been her imagination, but she could have sworn that they were traveling faster than usual.
    Another passenger rang the bell and as the bus lurched to a stop, she forced her shaky legs down to the front and asked Curtis if this was Regal Avenue.
    “It’s Regent,” the fat man answered for him, and this somehow irritated her.
    Oh to hell with it, she thought, her frantic mind speeding like the Indy 500. It’s now or never. With that she thrust the transfer into his hand.
    He looked bewildered, not noticing the telephone number until she pointed it out to him. “Call me sometime,” she told him hastily, her heart hammering like a soundly beaten kettledrum, as she fled from the bus.
    “I will,” he responded immediately, with a friendly if surprised smile.
    How could I do that? She asked herself breathlessly on the short walk home. In front of that nosy fat man too, who would be sure to tell everyone he knew.
    Two days later, Curtis telephoned her, and it was so wonderful to be able to speak with him in private at last, and for an extended period of time, that she soon forgot all her earlier misgivings.
    “I’ll see you tonight on the bus…the last bus…” she told him huskily. Knowing that she would likely be the only passenger as it veered along the dark deserted streets at the deepest midnight.
    She wore a plain black dress and overcoat with knee-high patent boots. Bundled up warmly against the icy wind, yet wearing no panties…
    The bus was empty, and as she sat opposite him drinking in the sheer intoxicating maleness of him, she opened her legs and treated him to the sight of her naked swollen sex.
    “I’m wet for you,” she murmured, and flicked her tongue over hungry lips. “And throbbing…throbbing…”
    “Oh God,” Curtis murmured, his fair skin flushed with desire, as he accelerated swiftly bringing them to the layover point in a paroxysm of screeching tires and swirling dust.
    He cut the engine with a shaky hand and switched off the lights leaving them in total darkness. Save that is, for the glittering brightness of the city that lay far below them on the other side of the harbor.
    “We’ve got ten minutes only,” he whispered and took hold of her immediately. She gasped as his tongue probed her mouth and his hands traveled over her breasts and behind with uncanny familiarity.
    “Oh lord…it’s good…so good…” April moaned and ran her hand down the front of his pants where his cock curved in steely anticipation.
    “Let me suck you,” she offered lustfully, and unzipped his fly with fluttering fingers. She knelt in front of him on the metal floor and took the entire length of his cock in her mouth in ravenous appreciation.
    He stroked her hair and murmured endearments as the wind buffeted the bus and sent swirls of dust around it.
    April was in a delirium of excitement, having dreamed of this moment for so long. When she began to fondle his balls, sensing that he was very close to climax, he pushed her away.
    “The back seat, I want to fuck you,” he whispered passionately. Then, half carried, half dragged her to the back of the bus.
    She spread her legs, drawing them well back to accommodate him. Relishing the feel of his flint hard cock as it pounded into her pulsating wetness with all the power of a dynamo.
    “Oh God…” she gasped, winding her legs around his waist and building…building to an explosive climax that seemed to rock the bus with all the