The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (14 page)

“Beautiful,
just as I remember,” he murmured as his finger trailed through her
wetness.

“Someone might
see,” she gasped out, but right then he sank two fingers inside her
and silenced her protests, turning them into little moans as he
slid a third finger in all the way to his knuckles.

“Oh yes,” he
said as he pumped his fingers. “You're so wet, Charlotte.” The
smell of her juices and the sound of her moans were making Rafe as
hard as steel, and for the first time in an age he felt like a
stallion, a dominant man who could make a woman fall apart with
just a touch. He could do even better than this, he thought and
leaning forward sucked her into his mouth as he slid his thick
digits into her.

“Oh God Rafe,
I'm going to...I'm going to...” Charlotte cried above him as he
held her gyrating hips down onto the bench and dragged his tongue
over her burning clit until he felt her arch her back and her hips
began to piston uncontrollably and then with a keening cry she
slumped under him. He pulled out his cum coated fingers and rearing
over her, slowly licked her musky juices off himself.

His throbbing
crotch was at her eyelevel and she opened her eyes and stared
straight at it. Her hair had come out from its neat twist and her
cheeks were flushed, her legs still spread and open to his gaze.
Damn, it felt good to give her this pleasure but his own lust was
now almost beyond bearing, his cock so hard he felt as if his skin
would split. Which did he want more, her mouth or her cunt? He
fumbled at his breeches and pulled his prick out, running his hand
over the protruding veins. Her eyes grew wide in a way that made
him even harder if that were possible.

“Suck me,” he
said, his decision made and obedient for once she opened her mouth
to let him push inside her, swirling her tongue around the weeping
head. Damn, when had she learnt to do that, he found himself
wondering but then she was enveloping him in wet heat and all he
could think about was the almost torturous ecstasy and how good her
mouth felt as he slid through her slickness.

“Look at me,”
he said and as her eyes met his, his orgasm took him by surprise
giving him no time to warn her as his cum shot out in shuddering
loads, straight down her throat.

“See what I
mean?” she said as he helped her pull up her drawers and rearrange
her skirts. “You treat me like a whore.”

He took her
face in his hands and kissed her almost tenderly, and she sighed
against him. She may affect anger but in his arms she was so soft
and weightless, it was on the tip of his tongue to say a very
dangerous word, but he swallowed it back and instead said, “Next
time we are going to do this naked.”

Chapter
22

The Earl Loses his Composure

In which our
regency rake is not himself.

Everyone was in
a jolly mood that night at dinner, everyone except the Earl of
Langham who was having great difficulty following the lively
conversation. As it was just a family dinner, Charlotte had been
invited to join them and the boys had been given special permission
to stay up late. Sophie had decided they needed to be taught table
manners. Rafe couldn't help smirking at how William and Arthur were
failing dismally at their lesson. William kept talking with his
mouth full despite Sophie’s gentle reprimands and Arthur was almost
asleep in his chair. His head kept dangerously bobbing over his
plate.

But it was not
the two entertaining boys who were distracting Rafe. It was their
governess, who was steadfastly refusing to look his way and
behaving as if he did not exist. She was dressed this evening in
dark green. Her dress had a high neckline and long sleeves but it
did not stop Rafe’s imagination from conjuring up most
inappropriate thoughts. He could not stop staring at the spiralling
curls at her temples and had an urge to wind them round his
fingers. He had an urge to rip that dress off her too. He wanted to
tear at the tight bodice and pull those sleeves off her arms and
have her luscious breasts in his hands. He could not believe that
he had not seen her completely naked yet, despite spending a night
in her bed. Or should that be spending a night on her bed. Neither
of them had been thinking straight enough to actually disrobe or
get under the sheets. It had been a very small bed anyway, hardly
equipped for athletics.

Damnation! He
almost groaned into his glass of wine. He wanted her naked so
badly. He wanted to lock her away somewhere private and secluded
and rip off her prim clothes and throw them in the fire and then
enjoy all the delights of that curvaceous body. He wanted to do
everything to her for hours and hours, for whole days and nights if
possible. He wanted to fuck her in every position he could think
of. Damn, he wanted to invent some new positions just for her. He
wanted to spend hours with his face buried in her sweet cunny. He
wanted to fuck her in the arse, slide his cock into her tight
rosebud and hear her cry of surprise.

The cock in
question unfurled, throbbing and persistent, under the table and he
slyly slid his hand beneath the tablecloth and gave himself a
stroke. He was depraved. She was making him go insane. He had tried
to forget her. He had run away in a most cowardly fashion the
morning after their first coupling and he had spent weeks of misery
trying to enjoy his usual pursuits. The only one of which he still
seemed to be able to do with any aplomb was drink himself into a
stupor. One humiliating night he had even failed to get it up for
one of Bella’s best whores.

Maybe if
Johnson was still around things would not be so bad. But Johnson
had been stolen away by that bitch, Justine de Mornay. Rafe’s usual
port of call in times like these was no doubt right this minute
pounding the undeserving French lightskirt into oblivion.

He missed
Johnson’s cock.

He sighed and
attempted to eat some of the lobster bisque that had been placed in
front of him.

Conversation
continued around him. Something was said about a trip to Weymouth.
William was admonished once again for talking with his mouthful.
Rafe’s uncle began talking about his rosebush collection.

Then suddenly
he heard Sophie say, “Rafe does not seem his usual self. I’m
worried about him.”

“I am right
here,” he slurred into his soup.

“But I don’t
think you are,” she said. “You haven’t said a word all
evening.”

“Maybe I have
nothing to say?”

“Maybe the
drink has rendered you senseless,” his Uncle said sternly.

Rafe looked up
crossly to find his Uncle glaring at him across the table.

“Damnation!”
Rafe thundered and standing up unsteadily, he threw his napkin on
the table. “I won’t have people discussing me as if I am a halfwit.
I am a peer of the realm for God’s sake and I’ll thank you to
remember it,” and he stalked out of the room violently slamming the
door behind him.

Once upstairs
Rafe pulled off his boots and hurled them across his room, then
struggled out of his coat and ripped his cravat from his neck. The
headache he had suffered from that morning was returning and he
threw himself down on the bed and stared at the canopy above
him.

What in God’s
name was the matter with him? It could hardly be sexual
frustration, not when he had released himself so satisfyingly into
Charlotte’s mouth only hours earlier. Oh God, Charlotte! How could
he have behaved so abominably in front of her? What must she think
of him?

A quiet little
knock interrupted his thoughts. He did not want to speak to Sophie
right now, and he certainly did not want her in his room when he
was in this temper. Then a hushed voice said “Rafe?” and his cock
swelled at the sound.

“Come,” he
choked out and the door cautiously opened and Charlotte stepped
inside, closing the door behind her, keeping her hand on the
knob.

“What are you
doing here?” Rafe asked, a little shocked.

“Sophie has
taken the boys to bed and I said I was going out for some air.”

“You are taking
a terrible risk in being here,” he said, forgetting that he had
stripped her of her underwear in broad daylight just that
afternoon.

“I know.”

He pulled
himself up to a sitting position.

“I came to see
how you were,” she said nervously.

He swallowed a
surge of anger at her concern, and said darkly, “Take your clothes
off.”

“I beg your
pardon?”

“Lock the door
and take your clothes off,” he repeated.

Her hand still
clutched the doorknob and he raised one eyebrow commandingly.

“Your valet …”
she stammered.

“Not here,” he
snapped. “Are you going to do as I say?”

Her hand
trembled as she turned the key and reached behind her to undo the
buttons down her back. She was clearly used to undressing herself,
Rafe thought, as she pushed her dress downwards and stepped out if
it. Then off came her petticoat and she was standing in just her
corset and chemise. Rafe’s eyes raked over her long shapely
legs.

“Take
everything off,” he said.

She undid the
laces down the front of her corset and Rafe’s breathing quickened.
He had seen countless women undress in his time. He had helped them
to undress too on more occasions than he could remember, but the
way that Charlotte so artlessly disrobed was making him so hard it
was all he could do to remain on the bed, his hands by his
side.

Now she was in
nothing but her chemise. He could see the outline of her nipples
through the thin material. They were tight erect buds and her
breasts looked pert and full. He knew from that night that they
were a perfect handful.

“Take it off,”
he growled. “Let me see you.”

She pulled the
chemise up and over her head and there she was, standing a few
yards from him, completely naked, her pale skin glowing in the
moonlight that poured through the windows. She was lovelier than he
had imagined, her legs impossibly long, her hips wide, her waist
small, and her breasts perfect.

“Take your hair
down,” he said.

She reached up
and pulled at the pins, dropping them on the floor and her thick
hair fell down past her shoulders in shiny waves. His breath caught
in his throat and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Come here,” he
said, and she walked towards him and did not stop until she was
between his spread legs and his lips were almost touching her
breast.

She threaded
her fingers through his hair as he sighed and ran his hands over
her soft bottom, his lips closing over one pink nipple. He rolled
his tongue over it and sucked hard as his hands squeezed her firm
flesh and his fingers wandered into the valley between her
legs.

“You’re wet
already,” he said against her breast and then he could not wait any
longer. He deftly undid his breeches and pulled his aching cock out
into the cool night air.

Grabbing her
buttocks tighter he guided her. “Open your legs. Rest your knees on
the bed. That’s it. Now lower yourself onto my cock. Oh God yes!
Like that!” he cried as she impaled herself onto him, her fingers
digging into his shoulders. His cock was enveloped in velvet heat
as she sank all the way down and wriggled a little making him groan
against her neck. “Oh God, that’s good. I’m going to fuck you now,
” he said as he grabbed her arse tighter and began to drag her up
and down his rock hard prick, at the same time thrusting his hips
until the sound of her slick juices sliding against him filled the
room, and her gasped breath brushed against his ear. He pulled her
upwards until his cock almost popped out but then he slammed back
into her and repeated the move until his balls were screaming their
need for release and he pulled her off him so he could watch the
creamy cum shoot from his cock and over her belly. They both kept
watching until his cock had released every drop and lay limply
between them, then he took hold of the back of her neck and pulled
her downwards to his lips and soundly and noisily kissed her.

When he finally
managed to drag his lips from hers he gasped out, “God, I love
you,” and then froze at the unfamiliar sound of the words. But
Charlotte merely held his face in her palm and kissed him briefly,
before she struggled off his lap and walked across the room towards
the washstand.

Chapter
23

The Governess is
Overcome

In which the governess finds the Earl impossible
to resist.

If only he were
not so beautiful, Charlotte thought as she watched the Earl of
Langham dismount from his horse in one agile leap, his breeches
stretched tight over muscular thighs, his dark hair shining in the
sun. Sighing, she took Arthur's hand and led him back towards the
house, only half her attention on her talkative ward. After Randall
had rejected her so heartlessly Charlotte had thought she had
learnt her lesson. Men of high birth treated everyone beneath them
as nothing more than possessions, and even though Charlotte was not
exactly a servant she was not a Lady either and she was most
definitely many rungs beneath the delectable Earl of Langham. And
as if his title was not enough to give him superiority, his
physical beauty was a nail in the coffin of her hopes. How could
she have allowed him to overcome all her defences? How could she
now be a slave to her desire for him? She had to regain control of
herself and resist, everything was at risk if she did not: her
livelihood, her heart, and her sanity.

But that
evening, all her determined resolve once again melted in the power
of his obvious desire for her. Sophie had required Charlotte's
presence in the dining room to help tutor William and Arthur in
table manners. It was the very last thing that Charlotte wanted to
do but she could not refuse and dressing in her primmest and most
unattractive dress she sat between the boys and did her best not to
look at their cousin. It was an almost impossible task, especially
since he was sitting feet from her, dressed in his impeccable
formal clothes and radiating a smouldering intensity. She could
sense his eyes on her as she helped William with his knife and
fork, and barely managed to repress the memories of what he had
persuaded her to do merely hours ago, memories of his dark head
buried between her thighs, memories of his husky voice urging her
onwards. She had worn one of her ugliest dresses tonight but he was
still looking at her as if he would rather be eating her than the
untouched bowl of lobster bisque in front of him. It made her heart
hammer loudly in her chest and her hands shake.