The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (6 page)

Her plan
decided upon, she closed her eyes but sleep would not come. She
could not banish the vision of him, chest bare and breeches wet and
clinging, and how she could have run her hand over his tight
abdominal muscles and peeled those breeches down his long legs.
What must his backside look like? Tight and round no doubt.

Her eyes flew
open. This would not do! She needed some fresh air.

But in the
darkened hallway she ran straight into the very man who was so
interfering with her composure. The surprise made her drop her book
and he said smoothly, “We must stop meeting like this.”

The candle he
held lit his face and Charlotte’s nipples instantly tightened as
she gazed at his beauty. His hair was dishevelled, his cheeks
flushed, his lips full and sensuous. He didn’t look like a man who
had spent an evening in polite company. He looked like a man who
had been … and then her gaze wandered downwards to the crotch of
his breeches. A couple of buttons were undone and white shirttails
poked through the gap.

He saw the
direction of her gaze and carefully placing the candle on the
bureau next to him, advanced on her in two long strides. Charlotte
found herself pushed against the wall, the Earl’s hard body pressed
against her full length, his indigo eyes aimed at her mouth.

That heated
gaze made Charlotte instantly wet and more than willing. Her legs
even opened slightly against the pressure of his erection but then
there was an insistent voice in her head, “No Charlotte. This will
not do.” She managed to command her hand to grip hold of his chin
and keep that beautiful mouth away from hers.

“You have me in
a highly compromising position,” she said, remembering her earlier
resolution.

“I can think of
more compromising positions than this,” he said in a voice so full
of erotic promise she almost swooned.

“I do not give
myself so freely, Lord Fairburn,” she said, amazing herself with
her ability to lie so coolly.

But he proved
to be insightful even through his lust. “I refuse to believe you
are a virgin.”

She should have
been outraged, but he was correct after all, more correct than he
knew. “That is not the issue. I do not give myself to eligible
men,” she said, cementing the lie.

His seductive
lips turned up in a lazy smile. “So non eligible men are free
game?”

Oh no, he was
not going to argue her out of her resolve. She straightened her
back and stared into his eyes on a level. “You, Lord Fairburn, are
a highly eligible man, despite appearances.” And this time she was
not lying. He was so eligible that she was sorely tempted to
abandon this game and rip the remaining buttons from his
breeches.

Once again he
revealed his sharp observation skills by murmuring in a voice laced
with need, “But you desire me. Don’t deny it.”

She had to stop
this man from affecting her so. She must not give in to this raging
attraction. If she did, he would take what he wanted and then
reject her. It would be Randall all over again.

“I am in
control of my desires,” she said. This was the mantra she had been
repeating to herself since Randall had so callously broken her
heart. If she repeated it often enough, who knows, it might come
true.

His hips pushed
more firmly against hers and she could feel the evidence of his
arousal even through her heavy skirts. An involuntary moan almost
escaped her as his finger trailed across her lips, but she managed
to swallow it and instead said, “Leave me in peace.” And she meant
it with all her heart.

To her enormous
relief he withdrew and watched her as she retrieved her book and
walked away. She could feel his eyes on her as she continued down
the shadowy corridor, her heart beating wildly in her chest, the
centre of her so slick and wet her legs were shaking.

Outside, it was
a refreshingly cool night and the moon rose high in the clear sky,
bathing the courtyard with a cool light. She stood for a while,
taking in big lungfuls of head clearing air.

“Good evening
Charlotte Kemp,” a smooth voice said, making her jump.

Eddie Johnson
was leaning against the stable wall, a glowing cheroot held between
his fingers, his white shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing a
glimpse of a muscular chest. Taking him in, Charlotte realised that
she was still unbearably aroused. His deep voice had shot straight
to her needy quim.

He grinned, a
slow lazy grin not unlike his master’s. And like his master, his
cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen. They looked bruised
as if he had been kissing, and Charlotte felt a sudden desperate
need to have them on her.

She found
herself walking towards him as if in a trance, and he dropped the
cheroot on the ground. She reached him and without saying a word he
took hold of her waist, pulled her against him and pressed that
tempting mouth against hers. His hand went to her breast as his
tongue snaked between her lips. Heat radiated from him and he smelt
like … sex, and she was suddenly released from all her worries. The
relief came upon her with a surge that travelled through her entire
body and she moulded herself against him, draped her arms around
his neck and kissed him with a wanton fervour. They were equals,
governess and valet, and she needed this so very much.

“My God,” he
groaned into her hair, his hands on her bottom, pulling her against
his hardness. “You’re begging for a fuck, aren’t you?”

If she had been
less aroused she might have slapped him, but his rough words just
drove her onwards, and she tugged at the remaining buttons of his
shirt and pressed her lips against the slick skin of his bare
chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.

His hand
grasped hold of her hair and he pulled her head back. “In the
stables,” he growled and before she even gave her consent she found
herself dragged into darkness and pressed forward against a cool
wall, her cheek scraping the rough stone.

His breath was
hot against her neck. “My, my, Charlotte Kemp,” he murmured.
“You’re a surprise and a half.”

“Don’t talk,”
she said impatiently. She had no interest in talking. She did not
want to get to know this man, she just needed him to relieve the
burning need inside her.

He obeyed her
order and instead lifted her skirts and thrust his hand between her
legs, his fingers sliding into her clenching sheath. He groaned a
single word into her ear, “Wet,” and then fumbling with his
breeches she felt the smooth blunt head of his cock rub against
her.

Oh the joy! She
loved this moment. The moment when a man had her helpless in his
grasp, his cock hard and ready to penetrate, to fill her emptiness
and drive her into ecstasy.

Johnson did not
disappoint. He entered her easily, sliding in all the way, his
balls banging against her. He was long and thick and she spread her
legs wider and arched her back, making him groan and place a large
hand on the back of her head, so he could pull out slowly and then
slide back in again with an even more erotic groan. Her face was
now pressed hard against the stone but she didn’t care because
Johnson was deepening his slow thrusts and she felt herself on the
edge of exploding already.

He was very
good at this she managed to register just before he changed the
angle slightly and started slamming into her with a still
controlled rhythm, his hands now gripping her hips, her cries
filling the barn. His manly grunts of pleasure had her climbing
towards something so thrilling she was almost afraid of letting it
break.

“Fuck yes,” he
chanted over and over again as he rammed into her, and at last it
came, crashing over her in furious waves of ecstasy that left her
shaking under his hands as he frantically withdrew and pumped out
hot seed with loud moans; all over her skirts she discovered later
with horror

Chapter
10

The Earl's
Restraint

In which our curious rake further explores the
delights of voyeurism.

“Charlotte,
Charlotte, Charlotte,” the Earl of Langham muttered to himself as
he watched her through his bedroom window. Even the sound of her
name made his cock hard. He was in deep, and he winced as his
unruly erection once again attempted to burst out of his breeches.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the effect she was
having on him, and hide it he must, certainly in public. He was not
having a clever little minx like her trapping him into
marriage.

“Damnation,
Johnson,” he complained to his manservant who was hanging his newly
starched shirts in the wardrobe. “What in the hell is the matter
with me? I think I’ve lost my mind. I have the worst case of blue
balls ever suffered.”

“There is a
very simple remedy for that Sir,” Johnson said, stopping what he
was doing and turning to look at his master from under his dark
lashes.

“Not even your
nice tight arse is going to solve this one,” Rafe said sadly.

“I meant you
need some Daisy,” Johnson said slowly.

“Some what?”
Rafe asked, for a moment thinking he was referring to some new
fangled potion.

“Some of our
randy little chamber maid, Sir,” Johnson said patiently. “You’d be
doing me a favour. She’s wearing me out.”

Rafe thought
for a moment and pictured Daisy’s big backside as she bent over to
display her sopping slit. He even groaned a little at the memory,
but he did not feel the need to revisit that particular garden of
delight. “Would you let me watch again?” he surprised himself by
asking Johnson. It seemed that he had a developed voyeuristic
tendencies.

Johnson raised
an eyebrow. “Enjoyed it that time in the scullery, did you?”

“I most
certainly did. The sight of your big cock pounding into her and
your tight arse cheeks clenching as you came, most certainly did it
for me,” he replied as frankly as ever. “And Johnson, I never knew
you liked to talk dirty.”

“Daisy brings
it out of me,” Johnson blushed. “She likes it rough and it makes me
go a little crazy.”

“God!” Rafe
moaned. “I would love to watch you somewhere nice and comfortable
where you can go to town. Like this bed for instance,” he said
nodding towards the big four-poster. “That scullery is far too dark
and damp.” And he added hopefully, his cock twitching with the
thought, “You can tie her up if you want.”

Johnson was
obviously contemplating the idea. “I am getting a little tired of
her, but the thought of you watching me fuck her again is tempting,
I have to admit.”

“Well then, let
us do it! Sneak her up here tonight and we will have ourselves some
fun.”

Daisy was
giggling as Johnson ushered her into Rafe’s bedroom late that
night. Her cap was all askew and her cheeks flushed. It was clear
that his manservant had already started the fun.

“I finger
fucked her on the stairs,” Johnson whispered to Rafe. “Thought I
would get her nice and primed.”

By God, Rafe
had hit the jackpot when he had appointed Johnson. Initially, it
was his devastating handsomeness that had got him the job, but Rafe
was utterly delighted when he discovered what a randy little
bastard his new valet was. Or should that be randy big bastard, he
thought, thinking about Johnson’s muscular biceps.

Daisy was
grinning at Rafe, winding a curl of her luscious blonde hair round
her finger. “Hello Sir,” she purred. “I’ve missed that huge cock of
yours.”

Rafe gulped and
kept firmly seated, but Daisy swayed across the room and placing
her hands on the arms of his chair leaned towards him, her plump
pink lips pouting. “How about a kiss?”

He gently
gripped her chin and pushed her backwards. “No Daisy,” he said
firmly. “You mustn’t touch me, I’m only here to watch. Johnson’s
going to fuck you.”

“I could do you
both,” she whined, but Johnson grabbed hold of her arm and pulling
her across the room, pushed her down onto the bed.

“Oh well,” she
sighed coquettishly at Johnson. “I guess I could make do with just
you.”

“Little bitch,”
Johnson muttered and then slammed his mouth down on hers. Daisy
immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth
to him, noisily moaning as Johnson devoured her.

Rafe sat back
in his chair and got comfortable. He was going to enjoy this.

Johnson soon
had his face buried between Daisy’s legs and she was writhing and
moaning and gripping his hair, clearly in such a heightened state
of ecstasy she barely knew what she was doing. Johnson was still
dressed, although he had taken his jacket off and rolled up his
shirtsleeves. He was on his knees with his arse stuck up in the air
and the tight fabric of his breeches stretched across his muscular
cheeks as his head bobbed between Daisy’s legs.

Up until now,
Rafe had resisted touching himself. He had merely sat back in his
chair and sipped on his whisky while Johnson and Daisy had sucked
each other’s faces off. But once Johnson had started to strip Daisy
naked, his aching cock had become increasingly desperate for
attention, especially when Daisy’s big tits were finally revealed
and Johnson squeezed them in his strong hands and then sucked
noisily on the pink nipples. Daisy had thrown her head back and
moaned loudly as Johnson had bitten and slurped and licked his way
around both distended buds. Then Daisy had thrust her hand in his
hair and pushed his head downwards and Johnson had eventually ended
up buried in her hairy slit, his tongue lapping up her juices.

That was when
Rafe gave in and laid his hand on his prick. He knew too well how
good Johnson was with his mouth and tongue, and if the desperate
pants and cries coming from Daisy were anything to go by, he was as
skilled at licking out pussy than he was at sucking cock. Rafe
stroked his growing bulge as Johnson shoved two fingers inside
Daisy’s clasping cunt and continue to lick her while he thrust in
and out of her, so fast she was coming in seconds, almost pulling
his hair from his scalp and arching her back as she screamed.