The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (9 page)

“Thank you,”
she said in that husky voice that never failed to go straight to
his prick and make him instantly hard.

Her hands
clasped hold of his jacket lapels and her rosy lips were now inches
from his.

“Charlotte,” he
managed to say. “You’re upset. We shouldn’t…” but before he could
finish the sentence she reached up and silenced him with an open
mouthed kiss, so hot that it tightened his balls.

“Where have you
been, Rafe?” she said when she had come up for air. “I haven’t seen
you for weeks.”

Rafe’s mind was
foggy. The last time he had seen her she had coolly rejected his
somewhat aggressive advances in no uncertain terms and now it was
he who was being pushed against a wall and kissed to within an inch
of his life. Her lips slid across his jaw and feverishly sucked on
the skin of his neck as he found himself reluctantly giving in to
the exquisite torture and his arms tightened around her waist.

“We mustn’t….
we shouldn’t…” he tried to say but now she was pressing her full
length against him and her fingers were threaded through his hair
and she was making soft little moans that unravelled his
thoughts.

It should be
easy enough to stop this, he thought, as her lips returned to his
and she fed greedily on him. It’s not as if he were starved for
attention. He had spent the weeks since he was in the country
enjoying some of the most talented whores in the land. He had
fucked so much he ought to be completely spent. But no, his cock
was rising hard and insistent in his trousers as she pressed
herself against him, and his brain was really wanting one thing
only: to give in and let her have whatever she wanted, up against
the wall, on the floor, it did not matter a jot to him where, as
long as he could drive his hard prick into her again and again.

Her hand left
his hair and rapidly travelled down his chest to rest on the huge
bulge straining the placket of his breeches and he was almost a
goner until a frightening word popped into his head. Marriage. She
was hunting a husband. And this was one way to get one.

His bruised
hand drifted away from the wall and clamped around her wrist
stilling her. She pulled away from him in surprise and looked at
him imploringly.

“What is your
game, Madam?” he asked.

“Game?” she
gasped, her chest heaving. “What do you mean?”

“The last time
we were in this kind of compromising position you stopped me and
told me you do not give yourself to, and I quote, ‘eligible
men’”

She just gazed
at him with glazed green eyes. It surprised Rafe. It seemed that he
was more in control of his faculties than she was, despite the fact
that all his blood had rushed to his groin.

“What has
changed?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she
said. “I wasn’t thinking. I am not thinking straight.” She swayed
and grabbed hold of his arm to steady herself. “You came sweeping
in here and you looked so…and then you took a swing at that awful
man and your face was so…and I lost all thought.”

He took in the
flush of her cheeks and the darkness of her eyes and the slight
wildness of her auburn hair that had come unpinned and he was
amazed to find himself believing her.

“You are the
most beautiful man I have ever met,” she said slightly
breathlessly.

“And you’re not
trying to trap me?” But as he said the words, he let go of her
wrist and his hands returned to her waist.

“All I wanted
was you, right here and right now, and I promise you there were no
other thoughts in my head.”

Her use of the
past tense did not escape Rafe, neither the fact that she had
pulled away from him slightly. His cock was missing the heat and
pressure of her already. He cursed himself for being so
uncharacteristically cautious.

“I think you
were right,” she said resting her small pale hand on his chest. “We
shouldn’t be doing this.”

He allowed her
to pull further away as he removed his hands from her waist, but
then he said quietly, “I will have you.”

She laughed
softly. “You are terrified of marriage, Lord Fairburn. I think it’s
best that you forget me and I forget you.”

“And what if I
can’t?” he asked.

“You must at
least try. I am sure you can have any woman in the Ton, and I have
heard, many of the men too.” And she gave him a silky little smile
before she turned and exited the room.

Rafe stayed
slumped against the wall for quite some time brooding over how
close she had been to throwing caution to the wind and raising her
skirts and impaling herself on him. He could have fucked her right
here on the hearthrug. He could have finally found out what it felt
like to have her come around his thrusting cock. He could have
heard the sound of her release as he drove her to ecstasy. But he
had stopped her. He could punch himself right now.

Chapter
15

The Earl's New Mistress

In which our
regency rake is exploited.

The Earl of
Langham was this very moment having to remind himself just how
lucky he was. Most men who found themselves lying amongst the
feather pillows of Justine De Mornay’s bed would not have to remind
themselves of this fact. After all, she was known far and wide as
one of the most beautiful widows in the country. With her glossy
black hair, porcelain skin and violet eyes, even Rafe was slightly
breathless when he thought of her. Ever since she came to England
from France, she had been pursued by the most eligible men of the
Ton and it had surprised no-one when she chose the most eligible of
them all, the vastly rich and titled Duke of Somewhere-or-Other
(right now the pompous oath’s name escaped him). And when the fool
had died suddenly by toppling from his horse during the Boxing Day
hunt, she had once again become the bright light that attracted the
moths. But the Earl of Langham was no moth and he had left them all
to flutter pathetically around her. Rather predictably, his obvious
indifference meant that she pursued him, most elegantly but also
tirelessly and relentlessly and, finally, in a moment of weakness
he had given in. However, now he was lying naked in her bed, he was
coming to the uncomfortable realisation that he had not acquired
the most sought after mistress in the land. No, she had acquired
him and he was cursing himself for succumbing.

But here she
was, drifting towards him in an almost transparent nightrail, her
nipples clearly visible through the fine linen, her full red lips
tilted into a seductive smile and he could hardly continue to
berate himself, especially not when she lifted the gown over her
head and stood before him in all her legendary glory.

He stared at
her, unashamedly, his cock making a tent of the sheets.

“The wicked
Earl of Langham,” she purred in her delicious French accent. “Here
you are at last,” and she twirled a lock of silky black hair around
a finger as she stared back at him lasciviously. “And what am I to
do with you?”

“Oh I am sure
you can think of a few things,” he replied, his hand straying to
his hardening prick.

“Remove the
sheet. Let me see you.”

He didn't like
being given orders but in this case he had a mind to be forgiving
so he slowly pulled the sheet away from his naked abdomen and let
her see what lay beneath. She sighed as her eyes ran over his body
and settled on what he now held in his hand.

“Un homme
etonnant,” she sighed. “We are going to enjoy ourselves, Rafe. I am
in need of some frivolous entertainment.”

“Come here,
then, and let us get started.”

She licked her
lips and ran one small hand up his shin and across his muscular
thigh. “Comme il est beau,” she said almost absent-mindedly.
“Jocasta tells me you are talented as well. Is that true? Can you
fuck all night?”

His cock gave a
little leap at her words. Her fingers were inches from his
tightening balls.

“She told me
you have her screaming within minutes. Apparently your tongue can
drive a woman to beg for your cock. Would you like me to beg,
Rafe?”

Rafe’s throat
was so dry now he could barely speak. His fingers trailed through
the silky black locks that hovered above him and then his hand
rested firmly on the back of her head. “Do you like a man to make
you beg for it, Justine?” he managed to say.

“Oh yes,” she
sighed, her hand moving towards his cock. “I like a man to tease me
and then take what he wants. I like a man with a great big cock who
isn’t afraid to fuck me hard.”

With a growl,
Rafe dragged her onto the bed, pinning her body to the mattress
under him and gripping her wrists, dragged them above her head.

“Yes!” she
cried as she opened her legs wide and pushed her pelvis towards
him. Kicking her feet together he straddled her knees and pushed
her legs closed.

“I am in charge
now, Madam. I will tell you what to do and you will follow my
orders," he said in the gruff tone he had learnt from his talented
valet. She was about to speak but he said sharply, “Be quiet,” and
leaning down caught one of her pretty pink nipples between his
teeth. She moaned loudly as he sucked it into his mouth and then
pulling away he warned, “Did you hear me? I said be quiet.”

“Oh my God,”
she whimpered as he lathed her other nipple with his hot
tongue.

“You’ve had
enough warnings,” he said and grabbing hold of her hips turned her
around so her lush little bottom was presented like a tempting
treat before him.

“No!” she said,
the mattress muffling her cries and Rafe just smiled to himself
knowing full well she would not be happy with him if he did
actually stop. He had played this game before and luckily, it was
one of his favourites.

“Look at that
lovely arse,” he growled. “It’s begging to be spanked.”

She squirmed
under his firm grip, which just made his cock swell to its maximum
girth and he raised his hand and brought it down on her pearly
white buttock, the slap resounding around the room.

“Mon Dieu!” she
cried which just made him do it again, this time a little harder.
Her flesh blushed pink and pulling her legs apart he could see her
dewy pussy lips, swollen with desire.

“It appears our
high and mighty Duchess likes a good spanking,” he laughed. “She is
nothing but a French whore. A slutty little trollope,” and his
fingers trailed through her creamy juices, and dipped into the
entrance to her tight hole, forcing a strangled moan from her. “Are
you ready to beg for it yet?” he asked in a low voice.

“Go to hell!”
she spat. Good, she was putting up a fight, which would make his
domination of her so much sweeter, even if she were just
pretending. So he leaned down and pulling her hips upwards shoved
his face down between her arse cheeks and firmly tongued her from
sphincter to pulsating quim.

She moaned even
louder and opened her legs wider, and he grinned against her clit
as he sucked it into his mouth.

“Oh God Rafe,”
she cried. “I’m going to come!” which made him abruptly pull
away.

“No you’re not,
not until I let you,” and he slapped her arse again, several times
until she was screaming and writhing and grunting unintelligible
words.

Gently stroking
her reddened skin, he waited with baited breath for her to say what
he wanted to hear. My God, if she didn’t say it soon he was going
to shoot his cum all over the sheets before his cock had even
touched her. His thumb slid between her cheeks and caressed her
arse hole as he whispered, “Beg for it Justine and I will fuck you
so hard.”

Her back arched
and she gripped handfuls of sheet as his thumb pushed deeper.

“I will fuck
you long and hard until you’re screaming my name and coming round
my cock like the horny little slut you are.”

She gave
another strangled moan and Rafe smiled with satisfaction. His dirty
words were turning her on so much she could hardly stand it. Her
bottom pressed into his hand and he could see the evidence of her
arousal dripping down her thighs. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it
Rafe! I want it now! God, I want it!”

And so he took
his throbbing cock in hand, lined it up against her cunt and then
with one relentless thrust, drove it in to her so deep he could
feel the head ram against her womb. And she promptly broke apart
around him with a surprised cry, her muscles gripping him so tight
he saw stars. She would pay later for coming without his
permission, but for now he had to concentrate on his own pleasure
as he began to thrust inside her.

A few hours and
many fevered couplings later, Rafe found himself being hustled out
of bed by a naked and sated Duchess with orders to exit the house
silently and stealthily. How the tables were suddenly turned. Now
she had tested his talents she was back to being the most eligible
widow in the Ton and the Lady who gave the orders.

Rafe struggled
into his clothes a little sulkily, attempting to conceal his
disgust. It would not do for her to think he was upset in any way.
He was the most dissolute rake in the Ton, happy to fuck the living
daylights out of any lady and then steal away in the grey of dawn
to greet another debauchery filled day. But if he were that rake
why was he now feeling empty and used? And when had the fifth Earl
of Langham become nothing but an unpaid gigolo?

Chapter
16

The Earl Reaches His Limit

In which our
regency rake finally runs out of patience.

The Earl of
Langham was in hell. The tiny carriage swayed and lurched along
pitted roads, the sound of the unseasonal rain and wind howling
around outside. Rafe would give anything to be sitting above with
the driver, battered by the elements and freezing his arse off.
Anything was better than being squashed in this carriage with two
small boys, his mistress and the woman who had been consuming his
thoughts for months now. It was warm, certainly. All those young
bodies in such close proximity guaranteed a certain amount of heat,
but Rafe could do without any kind of heat right now. He could do
with a very cold bath, he thought to himself and tried to keep his
eyes on the sleeping faces of his cousins rather than on their
Governess, who sat smiling to herself, her lusciously rosy lips
curving upwards as if she had a secret she was just dying to tell.
Blazes, it made him hard and he whipped his traitorous eyes from
her face once again and fixed them on Arthur whose head was in her
lap: just where he would like to be.