The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (5 page)

A moan escaped
her as his hand found her breast and she desperately wanted to
press against him and have his fingers pinch her tight. “Sir!” she
cried in an attempt to stop herself begging him to touch her.

But she didn’t
need to ask. It was as if he knew what she wanted, and he rubbed
her nipple through the thin fabric of her gown as he said. “You
consume me! I must have you.”

Her head was
spinning with arousal and if he had not been pinning her against
the tree she would have slumped to the floor in a pool of liquid
lust. Her eyes fixed on his full lips but before they descended
upon her she summoned the very last reserves of her strength, and
gripping his rough chin said, “Control yourself. We are out in the
open.” How she managed to speak in such a steady voice, she had no
idea.

His hand left
her breast and she felt bereft. “Your reputation is certainly true
Lord Langham,” she laughed, hoping desperately to lighten the
intensity between them.

“My
reputation?” he asked running his hand through his thick hair and
looking impossibly lovely as he attempted an innocent look that
just made Charlotte’s hot loins clench in aroused agony.

“Oh come, my
Lord!” she laughed. “You are renowned as the worst rake in the ton.
I’ve heard that no Lady is safe from your appetites.”

The look of
hurt on his face then made her do something unbelievably foolish.
She glanced down at the sizeable bulge he had been pressing against
her skirts and said, “And there’s that other matter…”

“What other
matter?” he asked cautiously as Charlotte watched the bulge swell
even further under her gaze.

She gulped. “I
have heard that you are the most generous rake in the ton,” and as
if guided by some malevolent force she reached out and laid her
hand over him. His cock was indeed huge, and so hot and hard under
her hand her mouth watered. It twitched as she ran her thumb along
the full length, and he groaned, a sound so erotic that she felt
herself grow instantly wet between her legs. “It seems they were
not exaggerating,” she croaked.

The moan that
came from him had her wanting to push him further. She had a sudden
overwhelming feeling of power, standing here holding this man in
her hand. Randall would never have let her do something so
assertively bold. It was him who always had to lead.

She undid his
buttons, one by one, and then slid her hand inside to feel the soft
skin stretched over the iron hard column. Her fingers trailed
through the wetness that leaked from his slit and her quim clenched
with the thought of him filling her with this exquisite
hardness.

“We are out in
the open, Madam,” he said slowly, his voice just a hoarse
whisper.

Charlotte’s
hand stilled and her sense returned. Sophie and the boys were so
near, she could hear them laughing. And so much for resisting
dangerous men. She had been a hair's breadth away from tugging his
breeches down and opening her legs to him.

She quickly
removed her hand and pushing him away from her suggested they join
the others, surprising herself with how quickly she could go from a
burning flame of lust to this cool, collected Governess. The Earl
of Langham looked dazed, as if all thought had deserted him and
Charlotte could not help feeling a rush of pleasure that she had
reduced a man like him to this.

Chapter 8

The Earl's Shame

In which our
regency rake has to take himself in hand once again.

The Earl of
Langham watched his cousin, Sophie and his friend, Henry Barnes
giggling together on the other side of the reception room. It made
his blood boil the way that man was inserting himself into the
lovely Sophie's affections. If he could not have her, he was damned
if he was going to watch that cad worm his way into her snowy white
drawers. He had a mind to inform her of charming Henry's
peccadilloes; how he was partial to servicing two women at once,
and was somewhat fond of restraints and spanking. That would end
the flirtation, he was sure of it. The hypocrisy of this thought
escaped him for a moment, but then he remembered his peccadilloes
were probably far worse than Henry's and if Sophie offered her
maidenhead up to him he would probably take it, and with some
enthusiasm. He cringed at his own lack of moral fibre sometimes. At
least Henry was not her blood relation, and eligible despite his
vigorous night-time activities.

Anyway, Rafe
reminded himself, he had other fish to fry, and he thought about
the Governess sitting quietly in the nursery upstairs. How he would
love to sneak up there and shove his face between her comely
thighs. She would not be so fond of reading once he showed her
something else to occupy her time. He would lick her out until she
was mindless and crying out his name. Then he would take his cock
in his hand and ram it up her. He would give her cunt such a
pounding her eyes would be rolling into the back of her head.

“Rafe, dear,” a
voice interrupted him and he looked up, his mind somewhat clouded
from his lusty thoughts.

Damn, it was
Mrs. Rawlings and she was thrusting her heaving bosom in his
face.

“You look
rather bored,” she purred, trailing a finger down the back of his
neck.

“Not at all,”
he said, his voice coming out rather husky. “I was musing on
pleasant things.”

“Maybe you
would like to take a walk,” she said, her finger playing with his
hair. “The conservatory has a clear view of the new moon.”

And an iron
bench for her to bend over and take his cock, he silently added.
But he had done that the other day only through sheer desperation
and quite frankly he would rather fuck his own hand than have her
again.

“I am afraid I
am feeling somewhat weary,” he said shrugging her away and standing
up. “I think I may retire early.”

She looked put
out and more than a little surprised. The Earl of Langham never
left the party before midnight, not when a lively game of whist was
about to commence. But the Earl of Langham was tiring of the
company and feeling more than a little jaded. He needed to escape
from the lascivious looks more than one of the ladies had been
throwing him all evening, something he never thought he would tire
of, but it had finally happened. He had had his fill.

Rather than go
straight to his room, he made a detour down to the kitchen to see
if he could find a piece of the splendid pie that had been served
at luncheon. It was dark and the servants had all retired, and he
spent a pleasant few moments in the welcome peace and quiet. But
then he heard an intriguing noise; the distinctive sound of a
woman's ecstatic moans. Leaving the pie, he followed the rapidly
escalating cries to eventually find himself at the door of the
scullery. Squinting into the gloom he saw a man's naked arse, its
muscular globes flexing as it thrust vigorously. He would recognise
that arse anywhere. It was Johnson and from the little feet that
were waving in the air, he surmised that Johnson was giving the
chambermaid exactly what she wanted, and giving it to her good.

“Do me harder!”
she was squealing, and Johnson grabbed hold of her ankles and
spread her legs wide as he violently thrust into her, his delicious
butt cheeks glowing in the moonlight that shone through the window.
It was a splendid sight indeed, and Rafe could not help reaching
down and clasping the substantial erection that had suddenly
unfurled.

“Fucking take
it,” Johnson snarled, his hips moving in time to his words, “Take
this big hard cock! Fucking take it deep!”

Rafe was a
little shocked at the normally polite man's aggressive words, but
at the same time, mightily turned on. The maid's moans became so
high pitched she sounded as if she were in pain and Rafe could feel
his balls tighten at the stream of filth being growled out in
Johnson's deep voice. His eyes were fixed on his manservant's
pumping arse as he pulled his own prick out from his breeches and
slid his fist up and down the aching shaft, and soon the aural and
visual stimulation was just too much as he shot his load with an
unintentionally loud cry.

Johnson must
have reached his fulfilment at about the same time because when
Rafe's mind cleared, he was standing still, the maid's ankles still
in his fists, a sheen of sweat on his beautiful arse cheeks, his
shoulders still heaving, and without even turning round, he asked
calmly, “Did you like the performance, my Lord?” The maid he was
still buried inside giggled.

“Better than
any of the entertainment upstairs,” Rafe replied.

“You must join
us next time.”

“Maybe,” Rafe
said not wanting to be rude. “Thank you so much for that ...
unexpected interlude, but I must be retiring to bed now,” and
pointing at the pool of his creamy cum on the stone floor, he said,
“Would you clean that up please?”

Rafe went
slowly upstairs feeling a little disgusted with himself. He seemed
to be resorting to self-abuse far too often lately, and it was
undignified for a man of his age. He was increasingly concerned at
how much the new governess was occupying his thoughts and he was
coming to the realisation that he might not be himself again until
he had spent inside her.

He was so deep
in thought that he almost walked into the very woman he was
obsessing over. She gasped and dropped her book and despite the
overwhelming heat that suddenly flooded him, he managed to say
smoothly, “We must stop meeting like this.”

She looked him
over and her eyes settled on his still partly undone breeches, his
hastily tucked in shirt escaping from the open vent. He wondered if
she could smell the recently spent spunk and without rational
thought passing through his mind, he pushed her up against the
wall. Some nonsensical male part of his brain seemed to think that
if he repeated this move often enough she would eventually succumb.
But not tonight apparently.

She took hold
of his whiskery chin and prevented his lips from meeting hers. “You
have me in a highly compromising position,” she whispered.

“I can think of
far more compromising positions than this,” he growled as she
loosened her grip on his chin.

There was a
glint of amusement in her green eyes, and he longed to kiss her
judgmental little mouth.

“I do not give
myself freely, Lord Langham,” she said, her long dark lashes
batting seductively.

“I refuse to
believe you are a virgin,” he said, shocking even himself.

She did not
even blush. “That is not the issue. I do not give myself to
eligible men.”

“So non
eligible men are free game?” he asked hopefully.

“You, Lord
Fairburn, are a highly eligible man,” and glancing down at his
bulging breeches added, “despite appearances.”

“But you desire
me,” he said, leaning closer to that delectably smart mouth. “Don't
deny it.”

“I am in
control of my desires,” she said archly, but as he pushed his hips
against her he saw the dilation of her pupils, even in the gloom of
the corridor. She had not denied it; she had merely dismissed it.
There was still hope.

Rafe trailed a
finger across her lips and she allowed it, trembling slightly under
his touch.

“Leave me in
peace, Sir,” she whispered softly, a command rather than a
request.

He drew away
from her. “So be it,” he said sadly, his mouth forming a pretty
pout, or so he hoped.

She bent and
picked up the book and walked away from him, a little shakily he
noticed with satisfaction.

Once he was
lying in his bed with the bright moonlight slanting across him
rendering sleep impossible, he suddenly realised what she meant by
not giving herself freely to 
eligible 
men. She was
hunting for a husband. Damn, he was in trouble.

Chapter 9

The Governess is
Determined

In which the
governess is determined to repel the Earl's advances.

That evening,
Charlotte felt uncommonly tired. William and Arthur had refused to
go to sleep without her presence, and Nanny Farnham had reluctantly
summoned her to the nursery where she had been forced and cajoled
into reading stories for over an hour.

At ten o’clock
she was finally able to shut her bedroom door and be alone for the
first time all day. Her book was beckoning and she was looking
forward to losing herself in the pages. But her usual focus seemed
to have deserted her. She couldn’t get through a single paragraph
without thoughts of a certain man floating into her mind. When she
closed her eyes she could still feel his hand on her breast and his
hot breath against her neck. What must it be like to kiss him?

And he would
kiss her at some point, of that she had no doubt. The heat in his
eyes when he looked at her was not going to be dampened quickly. No
wonder he had bedded so many women! If he looked at all women like
that they must be lining up for him with their skirts raised!

Charlotte put
her book down and gave in to her reverie. If he could have any
woman he wanted, why her? She was passably attractive and men had
desired her before, but she was no beauty and buttoned up in these
threadbare governess clothes she must look as dry as a spinster.
Then she had to remind herself that she was a spinster. After
Randall, she had vowed to stay away from men and their dangerous
desires, but unfortunately she had not taken into account her own
dangerous desires. All it had taken was a slow and lazy smile from
one brazen man and she had forgotten all her promises to herself.
She really should know better.

Oh, but his
hands had felt so good on her, and his mouth had been so hot and
insistent against her neck, and he had been so big and hard in her
hand. No! She must not act so rashly again, and she must keep him
away from her if that’s what his touch did to her. Luckily, she had
an idea how to accomplish that. She knew men like the Earl of
Langham, and she knew what terrified them more than anything
else.