The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance

by Alison Shaw

  “I have successfully avoided her since Easter,” he boasted, and in sudden suspicious panic, he asked, “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason ... it is just that Harold mentioned seeing her in Hyde Park yesterday.”

  Rafe froze with horror and gaped at his friend who was smiling broadly, clearly amused at his own affected nonchalance.

  “She's in London?” Rafe stammered.

  “So it seems. I wonder why?”

  Rafe took a very large gulp of his wine. He had an idea of why she was here and he had every intention of getting away from her as soon as he could.

  But she called at his townhouse at such a ludicrously early hour of the morning, he was not even dressed. For a moment he considered leaving her sitting in the parlor while he made a quick exit down the servant's stairs and out of the basement door. He could hail a hansom cab on the street and be on his way to Hertfordshire before she had finished her cup of tea. But that would be undignified and cowardly, so he slowly dressed, all the time the knots in his stomach twisting tighter.

  “You look well,” he said.

  “You look ... older,” she said, as she kissed him dryly on the cheek. “You have wrinkles around your eyes. I suspect you drink too much.”

  Rafe sat down heavily and tiredly regarded the only woman in the world he could not charm.

  “I won't beat around the bush,” she said, smoothing out her skirts. “It is time you were married.”

  Rafe just fixed her with his weary, wrinkly eyes. “Not ‘How are you?’ or ‘Where have you been all summer?’ or even ‘I've missed you’?”

  His mother snorted and waved a dismissive hand at him. “It is five years since your father died and I have waited long enough. It is time you were married and provided an heir.”

  “And do you have someone in mind?” he asked, knowing full well she did.

  “I most certainly do, and I have come to London,” and she even shuddered as she said the word ‘London’, “to introduce her to you.”

  “What?” he asked looking round in exaggerated panic, “She's here now?”

  “Don't be ridiculous Rafe,” she said without a hint of amusement. “You will come with me this afternoon to visit her and her mother.”

  “And what if I have an appointment this afternoon?”

  “You will cancel it.”

  Lady Lydia Maitland was tall and slender and rather lovely, so lovely that Rafe was somewhat surprised that he had never met her before, or indeed ever heard of her. She smiled at him sweetly and held out a dainty little hand, which he took.

  “Delighted to meet you,” he said, his mother's steely eyes boring into his back.

  He sat down on the couch opposite her and examined her pretty face while the ladies launched into a spirited conversation about the weather. All day he had been imagining the trout his mother had dredged up for him, so desperate for him to spread his seed that no doubt anyone with a title would do. He had spent the long morning thinking of Charlotte, picturing how she looked when half naked and spread out for him, her hungry green eyes desperate for his touch. Then he tried to picture a well-bred wife, who would no doubt allow him access to her nether regions once a month and grimace with disgust as he spent inside her.

  But looking at Lady Lydia Maitland right now, he was having no difficulty whatsoever imagining her naked. In fact, his cock was rapidly showing considerable interest in what Lady Lydia might be hiding under that virginal white gown, and her eyes kept flicking sideways at him as if she were wondering about him. It made him even harder and he quickly tore his eyes away from her to look at her mother instead. An erection would be most inconvenient at a time like this.

  Later, the ladies declared a desire to go for a walk so Rafe dutifully accompanied them to the park, hanging back to allow the older ladies to continue with their gossip and hopefully give him an opportunity to converse with Lady Lydia, or rather to be close enough to see if he really did desire her. He found it almost too hard to believe that his Mother had found him a girl he would not mind bedding.

  When she came to walk beside him he noticed that she was not as young as he first thought, although her peaches and cream complexion was radiantly unblemished. Was her skin like that all over? If so, her bottom must be a thing to behold, he thought, glancing down at her flimsy skirts and attempting to discern its shape.

  She spoke while he was still attempting to undress her with his eyes. "You have an appalling reputation, my Lord."

  He quickly looked up to find her regarding him with a pair of cool blue eyes. He almost blushed.

  “Have I?” he asked, flashing her one of his most charming smiles.

  “I am afraid that my mother is so desperate to wed me off that even you will do.”

  His mouth almost fell open in shock. He was an Earl! And he was the best looking man in the Ton. He had been told that often enough to consider it a fact.

  “And my mother has a habit of throwing me at any wretched spinster within a ten mile radius,” he answered back after a brief pause in order to regain his senses.

  “Touché!” she laughed gaily, and all the blood in his brain immediately rushed to his cock, which rose hard and insistent causing him to stop walking. Never in his life before had a woman's laugh caused such a sudden and violent reaction.

  “I am spending the next two weeks at a shooting party in Derbyshire,” she said, her eyes flicking over him. “At Kerridge Manor. I think you know Phillip Kerridge.”

  “Yes I do,” Rafe stammered as she walked away from him, her hips swaying slightly, his cock throbbing persistently.

  Chapter 28

  The Governess is Serviced

  In which the governess is expertly helped to forget her worries.

  Charlotte made it back to the main house before darkness fell, her clothes still damp and very wrinkled, her skin still tingling from Eddie Johnson's confident touch. She had been so well serviced that she could not even muster any regret. She felt plenty of annoyance and more than a little anger, but no regret. The man was still the most infuriating person she had ever dealt with, and her seeming inability to resist him made him all the more maddening. It should have been the Earl of Langham she had been rubbing her naked body against, not that great hunk of muscle topped with a grin who called himself a valet. She smiled bitterly to herself as she removed her ruined clothes. She had to admit he was awfully good at any sex act you cared to mention, and for a moment she remembered how forcefully his narrow hips had rocked into her, so hard that the bed had hammered against the wall loud enough to be heard over the thunder. And this time he had not said obscene things to her or grabbed her head and forced his cock in her mouth. This time he had been gentle, well at first he had, and oh God, it had been so good!

  Johnson didn't like to kiss. Rafe did. Rafe could spend hours kissing her, his hot wet lips making her heart sing and her legs turn to jelly. Johnson liked to fuck, or have his cock sucked but he didn't like to kiss. So what was he doing right now? He seemed to be holding her face in his hands and coaxing her mouth open with his soft lips, his tongue wrestling with hers. And it turned out he was very good at kissing, but that was hardly surprising. He was very good at everything.

  Charlotte had found him packing the Earl's clothes into two big trunks, his coat jacket abandoned and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. He had ignored her for a while and continued with his task giving her time to admire his perfect profile and the way he bit his top lip and grunted when he was concentrating. She had noticed that little habit before when he had been concentrating on something else altogether and it made Charlotte catch her breath remembering.

  Eventually she had broken the silence by finally plucking up the courage to ask, “Johnson? Why is Rafe going to Derbyshire?”

  “His Lordship?” he had asked not looking away from what he was doing. “I think he's met a woman. At least, I'm presuming he has because I can't think of any other reason he would venture up there.”

  Charlotte
just stared at him, until he finally looked at her, and shrugging his shoulders said, “Might not be serious. He's always chasing some piece of skirt or other.”

  Charlotte's throat suddenly constricted under Johnson's impassive gaze and to her horror, she could feel tears pricking her eyes, then before she could register what he was doing, Johnson took two steps towards her and she was in his arms, his warm hand stroking her hair.

  “Oh Charlotte, my love,” he said gently. “Don't fall in love with him, please. He won't treat your tender heart kindly.”

  Pressed into his sweet smelling chest, Charlotte wanted to tell him it was already too late but instead she breathed in his heady scent and relaxed under his stroking hand like a cat.

  “Believe me,” he said. “I know.”

  She lifted her face up to his, but before she could ask him what he meant he had taken her lips in a kiss that was at first gentle but soon became far more fervent. He didn't let her come up for air for quite some time and when he finally pulled away he trailed his finger across her swollen lips and said, “Are you ever going to call me Eddie?”

  Her mind was too muddled to reply, she merely took hold of the lapels of his waistcoat and pulled him back to her lips, feeling the delicious warmth of his mouth until her head finally cleared and she registered what she was doing, and reluctantly pulled away. His dark eyes looked glazed when he opened them, and her fingers were still gripping his lapels. “Charlotte...” he began to say, but she pulled her hands away as if burnt and took a step backwards.

  They stood a foot apart staring at each other. Johnson's chest was heaving under his white shirt and Charlotte stared at him warily then drew a hand across her mouth as if trying to wipe away the kiss. Something fleeting and dark passed across Johnson's eyes and then he reached out and taking hold of her waist with his strong hands, he said in an almost cruel tone, "I haven't finished." He pulled her hard against him so she could feel the swell of his cock even through her skirts, and his mouth descended on hers once again, but this time with no tenderness. Pressing her harder against him, he forced his tongue between her lips and possessed her mouth in a less than subtle show of his strength.

  “We're not over until I've fucked you again,” he growled into her mouth, “Fucked you good and hard.”

  Charlotte should have been frightened by his sudden change in mood and she tried to push against him half-heartedly but his hot words were wreaking havoc on her already inflamed loins.

  His tongue licked her neck just below her ear lobe. “I need to take you hard so that when I'm in Derbyshire I can jerk myself off remembering how you felt, all hot and wet and coming round my cock.”

  Charlotte groaned as his hands left her waist and grasped hold of her bottom through her skirt, grinding her against him as his hot lips and tongue fed on her neck and then lower to the buttons of her bodice.

  “You are one delicious piece, Miss Kemp. I can't wait to get inside you again. I am going to fuck you for so long you won't be able to walk for days.” His fingers deftly undid the buttons down her dress and he tugged her breasts free of her corset as he continued his stream of filth. “My prick is going to stretch you wide, split you in two. I'm going to hammer it in until you're begging me to stop.”

  What had happened to the gentle, patient Johnson of the day before? What an exasperating, unpredictable man he was but Charlotte didn't care because this Johnson was about to make her come just from his voice alone, and his hot mouth on her nipples.

  “Get this fucking dress off,” he said, tugging at her sleeves. “I can't wait any longer. I'm about to fucking burst, you've got me so worked up. My cock's so fucking hard.”

  He scrabbled at the fold in his breeches as Charlotte inelegantly struggled out of her dress. Who would have thought that it was only yesterday when she had been embarrassed to undress in front of him? Now all bashfulness had gone. What they had shared in that cottage had put paid to that.

  He had dropped down into the chair behind him, his engorged prick sticking straight up out of his breeches and waving slightly in the air. “That's it, Miss Kemp, you filthy whore,” he said with none of his usual teasing humour. “Get that pussy over here and ride this big cock.”

  Charlotte chose to ignore his provocative words. She was far too desperate to sink down on him again and feel that all consuming closeness, his hands on her bare flesh, his hardness filling her, torturous thoughts of Rafe banished. Johnson was about to leave for the North and she would not have to face him afterwards. There was just something about him and what he did to her that she was powerless to resist. The connection between them seemed to go beyond rational understanding and she had given up trying to understand it.

  He dug his fingers into her hips and groaned loudly as he smoothly impaled her, stretching her as wide as he had promised. She threw her head back and moaned, clutching his shoulders as he lifted her up and then back down, sliding her up and down his cock until she could feel the tension inside her building. He pulled her up so just the tip of him was still inside her and she wriggled her hips dragging a loud moan of ecstasy from him. “Oh god yes, just like that,” he grunted. “Just the tip,” as she continued to massage his sensitive glans, then with a louder groan he thrust his hips and slammed up into her, over and over again until the sensation of her cream flooding onto his balls made him come too, shouting her name and digging his fingers so hard into the flesh of her hips he would leave bruises.

  Charlotte lay slumped on him, her lips pressed against his neck for quite some time, their breaths coming in synchronized heaves, the smell of his sweat making her lightheaded. Eventually, he tried to move but this was difficult since he was still inside her, and still half hard, and she was a boneless mess.

  “Get up,” he grunted, taking her by the waist, gently this time and attempting to extricate himself. Her green eyes drifted open and settled on his swollen lips. “Blazes,” he sighed, his cock growing harder inside her. Her lips drifted towards his, and he closed his eyes then opened them again. “Alright then, we'll have another fuck. In bed this time. His Lordship's bed,” he said, his cock twitching at the thought. “But then I have to finish that packing and be on my way.”

  Charlotte smiled woozily and kissed him while he held her by the bottom and smoothly stood up. Still impaled on his cock, she wrapped her legs around him and he walked across the room and collapsed on top of her onto the bed, kissing her back until they were both panting and her hands were snaking under his clothes trying to get at all that muscle.

  “You'll be the death of me,” he said as braced himself above her and gave one smooth thrust so he was encased in her heat. “I could fuck you forever.”

  Charlotte looked up at his handsome face above her and felt herself melting into the bed, Rafe's bed she remembered with a jolt, but was by then far too well serviced to even feel guilty.

  Chapter 29

  The Earl is Trapped

  In which our regency rake falls headlong into a trap.

  The Earl of Langham could hardly believe he was in Derbyshire, mere miles away from the place he had spent most of his adult life avoiding. The journey here had been bearable, far more bearable than he had been expecting. He had actually slept most of the way and now he was greeted by his valet bounding down the stone steps, his long legs taking them two at a time, a big grin on his handsome face. He was a welcome sight indeed, especially since Rafe had not seen him for almost a week. It had been a frustrating week as well, in which he had been followed around by his damnable mother watching his every move. And that teasing minx, Lady Lydia Maitland had ensured he was permanently half hard with no chance of relief. It had been pure torture but here he was at Phillip Kerridge's bloody shooting party, having followed the little siren half way up the country like some eager lap dog. What on earth had become of him?

  Seeing Johnson smiling like that he had an urge to slake his lust as soon as possible, and not with that sly cock tease his mother wanted him to marry. He had, in fact, bee
n tempted to stop off in Hertfordshire and spend a night ramming his deprived cock up his lovely governess's quim. That would have fortified him for the days ahead. But here he was, in the devil's own county having not fucked a soul for six days. His balls ached so badly he could cry. Johnson, had better sort him out and quick. There was only one kind of shooting Rafe was currently interested in.

  Johnson heaved two of Rafe's valises under his arms and mounted the stairs, his buttocks tight under his breeches. Rafe followed, his eyes glued to his valet's perfect backside, his cock swelling already. In the bedroom, the cases were dropped to the floor and Johnson bent down and began to undo the fastenings, but Rafe had already sunk down onto the big feather bed and was ripping at the fold in his breeches.

  “Leave that,” he ordered. “Come and suck my cock.”

  Johnson slowly turned his dark head and regarded Rafe with an unreadable expression. Rafe had managed to wrestle his phallus out of the confines of his breeches and it grew thicker in his hand as he ran his thumb down the veined shaft.

  “I want your mouth on me now,” he gasped. “I need to come!”

  By God, he was almost begging! What on earth had become of him, indeed.

  Johnson just returned to undoing the cases, bending his knees and squatting down so his flexing backside was fully on show. Rafe almost groaned at the sight.

  “Jerk yourself off, my Lord. I'm busy,” he said.

  Rafe was shocked by Johnson's refusal to follow orders but he was already too far gone to do anything about it, his fist sliding up and down his cock as he stared at his valet's broad back and the newly long hair that curled on his brown neck. He wanted to run his hands through that hair, and grip it tight as he forced his cock into his wet mouth. Thinking about how he would slickly slide in and out had him pumping himself faster and throwing his head back with the agonizing tension. A loud groan escaped him and he opened his eyes to find that Johnson had stopped what he was doing and was watching him.