The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance

by Alison Shaw

  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.

  Damn it! How the hell had he got himself in this position? And then he felt a small hand ease itself under the edge of his jacket and resting on his thigh, it ever so slowly edged itself upwards until it discovered his guilty secret straining the wool of his pants. He heard Justine De Mornay give a little sigh and tensed as his cock swelled to its full capacity under her questing fingers. Fuck and damnation, if she didn’t stop he was going to embarrass himself more than he had ever done in his entire debauched life.

  Keeping his eyes fixed on William, who was slumped against the carriage wall, his mouth open slightly and snoring, Rafe shifted and tried to dislodge his mistress’s insistent hand. But the movement just meant his hardness was pushed more firmly against her, and she gave him a confident little squeeze. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from moaning, and dared to flick his eyes slightly to the right where Charlotte was still smiling enigmatically. A thumb brushed across the sensitive tip of his cock and he was horribly aware of his pre cum soaking into the wool of his pants as Charlotte’s eyes slid downwards and to the left and looked directly at his crotch.

  “Well, we must be almost there!” he said so loudly that both the women jumped and Arthur twitched on Charlotte’s knee. “Wake the children, Miss Kemp!”

  The remainder of the journey was thankfully spent rousing two reluctant boys and attempting to keep them in good cheer. When they finally reached the end of the interminable driveway of the house they came to an abrupt halt and all sat for a moment listening to the driving rain and contemplating the single umbrella Rafe had in his possession.

  “Justine, I will take you to the house first and then come back for the boys,” Rafe eventually decided and he flung the carriage door open and leapt into the downpour, pulling his mistress with him. But it seemed the boys were too eager to see their sister and father, and they leapt after him and ran up the main stairs, not caring how wet they were getting.

  Once he had delivered Justine through the door, Rafe turned and realised that Charlotte was still in the carriage, alone.

  She was sitting patiently, her back straight, and her hands in her lap, like the very picture of a proper little governess. Rafe took one look at her and dropping the umbrella on the ground, let a feral growling noise escape from his throat and threw himself into the carriage. He grasped her face in his wet hands and possessed her mouth with an uncontrolled fervour. She tasted so good and her mouth was so hot. Grasping handfuls of hair, he pushed her head back and plunged his tongue into her wet heat, his knee pressing between her legs.

  Then he slowly registered her hands attempting to push against his chest and sounds of protests murmured against his lips. He very reluctantly pulled his lips from hers.

  “Rafe!” she gasped. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  “I am doing what I have been thinking about doing all the way from London,” he said, his voice coming out rough and desperate, his knees forcing her legs further apart.

  She gave another gasp and unsuccessfully tried to dislodge his legs from between hers as his lips grazed over the sweet skin just below her ear lobe.

  “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare do this when I have had to witness your mistress … groping you right in front of me!”

  But Rafe barely heard what she said as his hands found her breasts, heaving under her thick wool dress and tight corset.

  “I’ve had enough of politeness and courtesy,” he growled as he thrust a hand under her skirt. “I want you and I shall have you.”

  “Rafe!” she protested again but his fingers had found her hot core, too insistent to be stopped by the barrier of underclothes and he roughly pushed inside her slickness, and she cried out and grasped the straining muscles of his upper arms.

  “I could fuck you right now," he said, "God knows I'm hard enough." And staring straight into her eyes, he thrust two thick fingers in and out and felt her tight and wet around him. “I could fuck you right here where anyone could find us. I don't care." His fingers continued their insistent thrusting as his thumb found her nubbin and teased it until she was gasping. “There’s not a damn thing you could do about it,” he murmured, “I could get my hard cock out and hammer it into your tight little pussy.” He could feel her clamp around his fingers at his crude words. She was so wet now he could even hear the sound of his fingers sliding in and out of her slickness, and as she dug her fingernails into his arm, he watched her beautiful eyes close. “Open you eyes Charlotte,” he said softly. “I want you to be looking at me when you com
e.”

  Her eyes flashed green in the dim light as he stroked her until she shook around him and then he wetly kissed her, devouring her mouth, his thumb still caressing her swollen nubbin until she slumped under him, all her protests washed away like rain.

  They pulled themselves together enough to exit the carriage and ascend the steps on unsteady legs. Everyone was too busy greeting the children and helping them out of wet coats to pay too great attention to the two slightly dishevelled figures who had taken rather a long time to appear, but when his cousin Sophie kissed Rafe on the cheek she gave him a quizzical look. He quickly made his excuses and retired upstairs, but not before whispering against the governess’s auburn hair as he passed her. “Tonight ” was all he said and it was a command rather than a promise.

  Chapter 17

  The Earl Requires Assistance

  In which our regency rake solves a problem with the help of his resourceful valet.

  The night took a long time in coming. The Earl of Langham spent the seemingly endless evening nursing a single glass of brandy and listening to the wind and rain howling outside. He drank very slowly, wary of dulling his senses. He had plans that would require him to be sober, and on top form.

  For lack of anything better to do, he watched Justine de Mornay in conversation with his cousin Sophie. They were both beautiful women in such different ways, almost opposite ends of the spectrum. Sophie, blonde and virginal, Justine, dark and … not virginal, not in the least. She glanced up and catching him watching her, gave him a slow smile so seductive and full of promise his cock twitched. She was a dangerous woman, that one. She looked the very picture of a refined Lady, so sophisticated in her elegant clothes, so perfectly and delicately beautiful, but Rafe knew that under that polished disguise was a woman with a steely determination and a voracious appetite. He was fast regretting ever succumbing to her charms, and he was very unhappy about her presence in his Uncle’s house, but she had recently befriended Sophie and wangled an invite. She had even managed to secure a place in the carriage in which they travelled here, leading to the most uncomfortable journey of his life, squashed in a tiny space with his mistress and the woman he was so desperate to bed. That woman, Charlotte, had not left his mind once all night. He could still taste or on his lips. His fingers still smelt of her. And here was Justine, clearly expecting some vigorous late night entertainment from the glances she kept throwing his way. If only Henry Barnes were here to take the job on for him. Henry would have eagerly distracted her and he had no doubt she would have enjoyed it too. Henry was a master with restraints.