An Untamed Governess For The Rogue (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Olivia Bennet

  She had to grip his hair, her hands full of his curls, when she felt his tongue lash against that sweet spot, his mouth circling it so he could suck gently. Her eyes closed as she drifted deeper into euphoria, his tongue moving against that sacred place, hot and firm and wet. I did not know it could be like this. She turned her head and moaned as his fingertips began to slide up and down her swollen heat. It was as though her body was preparing for him, eager to accept that thick length into herself.

  “Oh… Luke… oh goodness,” she whimpered as his fingertips paused at her slickened entrance. She had to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out, as he slid a finger inside her, moving it slowly back and forth as his tongue continued to lash against her bud. The urge to scream in bliss only increased as he slid another finger inside her, waiting a moment to allow her to adjust.

  “Does that feel good?” He paused, glancing up at her.

  She nodded, though she no longer had any sense of anything but him and the sensations he was creating within her. He chuckled as he returned to what he was doing, sliding his fingers in and out of her secret bloom, as his tongue circled her most sensitive spot. Soon, she began to experience a very different feeling—a clench of her muscles, so intense and overwhelming that she did not know how she would endure it.

  Her fingertips clawed at the ground as a wave of raw, unadulterated bliss cascaded over her. It began in her core and spread out like a lightning bolt, making her shake and shudder until she could not bear it any longer. As her muscles pulsated, she lay back, completely spent and enveloped in an embrace of pure contentment.

  She gasped once more as Luke slid his fingers out of her, placing one last kiss on her sweet heat before he kissed his way back up her body. Lazily, she looped her arms about his neck as she pulled him in, kissing him hard on the mouth. He tasted slightly of salt and sweetness, his tongue moving against hers in a sensual rhythm.

  As he kissed her again, his hand trailed along her stomach and slid between her thighs, rubbing gently against her swollen bud. Her back arched as the first tendrils of pleasure began to edge through her body. She moaned as he moved his fingers lower, teasing her entrance. Grazing her lip with her teeth, her hips bucked as he slipped two fingers inside her, giving her a moment to adjust.

  His lips never left hers, accepting every gasp and moan, as he moved his fingers in and out, his thumb circling her sweet bud. Before she knew what was happening, a bombardment of ecstasy struck her, her muscles tensing as she indulged in that delicious, satisfying release.

  “I love you, Teresa. I would never do anything to hurt you,” he urged, kissing her again. This time, he felt her soften, her mouth slowly echoing his kiss. Her body relaxed against him, her tongue dancing with his as she pressed herself closer. As she looped her arms about his neck and drew him deeper into their kiss, he felt pure contentment.

  “I love you,” she whispered, as she moved her lips away from his and began to kiss along his jaw and down his neck. His breath quickened as she kissed the hollow at the bottom of his throat and down his chest.

  As her lips made their way back up his neck, she paused at his earlobe. Raking it gently with her teeth, he gripped her tighter, feeling his member harden. I want you…

  “How can I bring you pleasure?” she said, her breath ragged.

  He looked at her in surprise. “You do not need to, my love.”

  “But I want to. Show me how.”

  Tentatively, he lay down beside her, as she turned to face him. As he dipped his head to kiss her, he reached for her hand and brought it lower, to the protrusion that throbbed between them. Covering her hand with his, he wrapped it around his length and began to move it up and down, showing her what to do. He bit his lip, trying to restrain himself, as she began to move her hand of her own accord.

  Removing his fingertips, he let her find her rhythm, his whole body responding to her delicate touch. His breaths came in sharp gasps as the pleasure edged through him, his heart pounding. Suddenly, she pushed him flat and began to kiss across his chest, her hand still moving in that exquisite way. Her kisses trailed lower, his breath catching as her mouth closed around the tip of his member. Oh Teresa…

  Her head moved up and down as she took him into her mouth, the wet warmth bringing him closer to his own conclusion. Faster and faster she moved, until he felt his abdomen tightening. It would not be long now.

  “Stop,” he urged. “You must stop, or this will come to an end.”

  “So that is how I give you pleasure.” She giggled girlishly, making him grin.

  “Kiss me, so I may bring more pleasure to you, in return,” he urged. As his breath returned to normal, Luke shifted his body, changing his position so that he was above her. She gazed up into his eyes, no longer afraid of what might come next. Gently, he reached under her thigh and lifted it slightly, a cry slipping through her lips as she felt the pressure of his tip against her warm, damp sex.

  “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, before kissing her again.

  “I never want you to stop,” she replied huskily.

  Slowly, with one hand upon his member, he pushed himself inside her. Pleasure and pain mingled for a moment, before the latter subsided. It was a strange sensation, to be so entirely filled. He stilled for a few seconds, allowing her to get used to this new feeling. And then, he moved his hips back, pulling out of her until only the tip remained inside.

  Her nails raked at his back, her kiss even hungrier upon his lips, as he sank back into her depths. Taking his time, he thrust in and out of her with slow, measured strokes, letting the pleasure build within her. As he kissed her neck, grazing his teeth along her skin, he began to quicken the pace of his strokes. His breath became ragged as he plunged into her, his hand sliding down to caress her bud.

  “Luke…” She sighed, lifting her hips to meet his every thrust.

  “My love, my sweet, sweet, love.” He groaned against her ear as he moved faster, his fingertips matching his pace as he plundered her. His member pushed deeper with every stroke, until she began to feel that familiar tightening in her abdomen.

  He did not relent, his fingertips strumming quicker across her bud as his hips moved faster and faster, filling her up until she did not know how she might bear it any longer. She gripped him tight as a wave of bliss cascaded over her, bristling through her veins until she cried out.

  Her muscles tightened around him, bringing him towards his own release. He thrust a few more times before he stilled, a groan of pure pleasure coming from the back of his throat as he spilled his seed within her. She held him close, as he slid out and pushed back in once more, their bodies as one as they lay beneath the starry night.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him against her, reveling in the weight of him. They were married, and now had the liberty to enjoy one another as often as they pleased.

  As his breathing returned to normal, he lifted himself up and smiled down at her. His eyes shone with happiness, making her grin with utter contentment. In truth, she did not know how she had managed to be so fortunate.

  “I love you,” he murmured, bending to kiss her.

  “And I love you,” she whispered back.

  She had come to Rowfex with nothing and had expected nothing from the world. Through all the troubles and conflict, they had found one another, and she would never let him go. He was hers, and she was his, and nothing would ever pierce their private realm again.

  The End?

  Extended Epilogue

  Eager to know more on how Teresa and Luke’s relationship evolved? Then enjoy this free complimentary short story featuring the beloved couple.

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  But before you go, turn the page for an extra sweet treat from me…

  A Sinful Duke she can’t Refuse

  About the Book

/>   For she had eyes and she chose him...

  Isabella Addison, only daughter of the Viscount of Gefferton, is forced to marry a hideous man...or so she thinks. Her view of the world changes entirely the day she meets him for the very first time.

  Emanuel Beckett, Duke of Helmsfield, lost himself twenty years ago—the day his parents were killed and his leg was amputated. Enraged by the upcoming marriage his aunt arranged without his consent, he realizes he has no other choice but to comply.

  But a smoldering attraction between them burns all initial doubts and a relentless courting begins...

  When an unexpected encounter awakens old memories for Emmanuel, he realises Isabella was the one holding the key to his redemption all along. In the blink of an eye, he will be led to the moment he had been waiting for his entire life: finding out what really happened the night his parents died.

  Chapter 1

  A Chance Meeting

  Diana Addison, Viscountess of Gefferton sat down at the table to write to her dear friend Helen, who she had not seen since they were both debutantes, nigh on thirty years ago.

  She paused, marveling at how fast time flew. The last time they were together, both were unmarried and breathlessly hopeful of catching a man’s eye during the Season. Now they were wives and mothers, whose husbands served at Whitehall together. It was quite unfortunate that they had not seen each other in all that time.

  She had heard at Lady Caldwell’s Venetian breakfast that Helen, Lady Edric Beckett, was in Town, seeking a bride for her nephew. There was a lot of talk as to why her nephew—whom Diana understood was a Duke, and extremely well off—would not simply participate in the Season. Quite a lot of conjecture, some of it very uncharitable, had been bandied about as to why this was so. Some said he was utterly hideous, while others had heard rumors that he was crippled. The on-dits were rather varied and some quite vicious. Diana felt bad for her former friend.

  If, indeed, Lady Edric was seeking a bride for her nephew, Diana might know just the girl.

  “Mother? Have you seen my book? I cannot seem to find it.” Her daughter, Isabella, walked absentmindedly into the room, eyes everywhere except on her mother, searching for whatever book she had lost.

  “No, I have not seen your book. I do not know which book you have currently pilfered from your father’s library. I suspect that if the servants ran across it as they cleaned, then they would have done the proper thing and returned it.”

  Her daughter sighed at her, large aggrieved brown eyes regarding her with disappointment. She tossed her chestnut hair haughtily over her shoulder, causing it to cascade in waves down her narrow back, framing her pale skin quite lovingly and highlighting the freckles across her nose. “I was reading it, Mother. They cannot just...take things as they please.”

  “Well, if you’re reading it, perhaps you shouldn’t leave it lying about.”

  Isabella glared daggers at her before she turned and flounced dramatically out of the room. Diana shook her head resignedly and with a sigh, returned to her letter. Yes, she was convinced that she and Helen could help each other. Helen required a bride for her nephew and Diana required a groom for her Isabella—bluestocking that she was, her daughter would probably not get married otherwise.

  * * *

  Emmanuel limped tiredly up the front steps, the edge of his prosthetic leg digging into the tip of his stump and causing him pain. He wanted nothing more than to take it off and rest. Pulling at his beard to distract himself, he absently nodded to the butler who greeted him as he walked through the front door. The butler was reaching for Emmanuel’s coat but he demurred, not wanting to stop until he could sit down.

  Stevens, the butler, obligingly followed him down the hall to his bed chamber. Because of the nature of his injury, this sometimes made climbing stairs a bit of a chore; it made sense to have his bed chamber on the first floor, right next to his study.

  Stevens waited—poised to help if needed—until Emmanuel had fallen into his leather armchair, before crossing to the armoire where a tray of drinks waited, to pour the Duke of Helmsfield a brandy.

  “Where’s Andrews?” Emmanuel looked up at Stevens as he handed him his drink.

  “Your valet shall be down momentarily, Your Grace. I have sent for him.”

  “Good man, Stevens. What would I do without you?”

  Stevens gave a stiff nod and the very ghost of a smile. “I expect you would manage, Your Grace.”

  Emmanuel opened his mouth to reply but at that moment the door opened and Andrews stepped in. He helped His Grace take off his breeches and then proceeded to unstrap his prosthetic leg at waist and thigh.

  “Shall I bring your soothing cream, Your Grace?” he asked as soon as he had set the leg to lean against Emmanuel’s chair.

  “If you would be so kind, my good man.”

  The door had scarcely closed behind Andrews when a tentative knock had Stevens opening it again to take the tray proferred. He placed it on the table so that it was accessible without Emmanuel having to move anything but his arm.

  “Some refreshments to tide you over until dinner time. I believe your aunt has invited company.”

  Emmanuel sighed. “What kind of company?”

  “A Lady Gefferton, I believe.”

  Emmanuel slumped further into his seat in defeat. “Will Lord Edric be joining us for this dinner?”

  Stevens cleared his throat to disguise his amused smile. “I believe he said something about a meeting at White’s.”

  Emmanuel grimaced. “Coward. He would leave me to parry his wife’s friends on my own?”

  Stevens almost grinned. “He said to tell you that he would have invited you along but Lady Edric was quite adamant that you attend her dinner.”

  Emmanuel frowned in suspicion. He loved his aunt, but her endless scheming to ‘ensure his happiness’ as she put it, was wearing on his soul. He had been quite content to sit out this trip to Town, but she had been quite insistent that a man of two-and-twenty could not be left to potter about on his own at his vast Helmsfield estate. Oh no, the only thing for it was for him to accompany his aunt and uncle for the Season.

  When he had pish-poshed that notion, she had declared that she and Lord Edric were far too old to be traveling on their own. Would he abandon his own living relatives...and on and on. It had been easier to simply give in to her demands.

  He and Uncle Edric had learned early on that doing whatever Aunt Helen said was the quickest path to peace.

  He just did not see why he had to sup with her friends while Uncle Edric went free. There was no doubt about it; Aunt Helen was up to something.

  “Stevens? Pass me the bottle of brandy, would you please? If I am to dine with the Devil, I must fortify myself.”

  Stevens inclined his head, “Yes, Your Grace.” He went to the drinks tray, retrieved the rest of the brandy, and put it carefully down next to Emmanuel’s glass.

  “Is there anything else I may get you, Your Grace? Some laudanum, perhaps?”

  Emmanuel shook his head. “Thank you, but no. The brandy alone will do.”

  Andrews came back in, brandishing the soothing cream triumphantly. Stevens bowed to Emmanuel. “I shall leave you to it, then.”

  He walked out of the room, leaving Andrews to rub the cream carefully into Emmanuel’s stump. The Duke leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, determined to enjoy what peace was available to him before his aunt’s latest scheme came to fruition.

  * * *

  “Emmanuel dear, so glad you could join us,” his Aunt Helen said, as he walked into the drawing room later that evening.

  He smiled as well as he could while still feeling quite put out about having to be there. “I would not have missed it for the world.”

  His aunt turned to their guest with a smile. “May I introduce my nephew, Emmanuel Beckett, Duke of Helmsfield?”

  The lady curtsied with a smile. “Very pleased to meet you, Your Grace.”

  “And this is Diana Addison, Vis
countess of Gefferton,” Aunt Helen said to Emmanuel.

  He bowed to her. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Gefferton.”

  The ladies took a seat and then Emmanuel followed. There was an awkward moment where both Lady Gefferton and his aunt began speaking at the same time. Emmanuel smiled, wondering at the air of tension in the room. He cocked an eyebrow at them both.

  “Lady Gefferton and I knew each other back when we were both still debutantes. She very kindly wrote to me when she heard that we were in Town.”

  “How nice to have a reunion with an old friend. I expect you have much to talk about. Perhaps I should—?”

  “Oh no, no, no, Nephew. Stay.” His aunt knew exactly what he was trying to do. “I’ve just been telling dear Lady Gefferton everything about you and she was so eager to make your acquaintance.”

  Emmanuel’s brow furrowed with concern, not inclined to believe any of that. Nevertheless, he endeavored to smile and prepared to be as sociable as he could manage.