The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (11 page)

Justine was in
grabbing distance now and Johnson didn’t hesitate. He reached out
and taking hold of her wrist, pulled her between his spread legs.
She fell against him, all expensive silk and elaborate coiffeur
colliding against solid manly flesh. Johnson’s hands gripped her
buttocks, his mouth slammed onto hers and they devoured each other.
There was no other word for it, and Rafe found his own breath
growing laboured and tight in his chest just watching them hungrily
attack each other, tongues plundering, hands desperately scrabbling
at each other. To see the elegant and delicate Justine de Mornay
fall apart under the rough touch of a man as masculine as Johnson
was really something and Rafe held his breath as Justine began to
give helpless little moans and gyrate her derriere under the big
hands that held her so firmly.

Suddenly,
Johnson took hold of Justine’s flushed face and pulled her away
from him.

“My God,
Eddie,” she gasped. “Take me to my room and fuck me.”

“My pleasure,”
Johnson said and with one swift move, stood up.

He had never
looked finer, thought Rafe, standing there with his shirt open, his
legs spread wide and his huge prick rampant. Justine did the only
thing she could do and sank to her knees in worship. Rafe’s cock
gave another great leap as she sucked Johnson’s throbbing phallus
into her mouth in one deft move, and his fingers immediately sank
into her hair dislodging curls and pins.

Johnson’s hips
were soon thrusting as she slurped on him noisily, her beautiful
face flushed and distorted. He roughly fisted her hair as he rammed
himself without mercy into her stretched mouth and as his breeches
slipped downwards Rafe was treated to the sight of the tight globes
of his arse clenching. Johnson began to mutter obscenities under
his breath like a filthy mantra as Justine gagged and the visual
and aural stimulation was almost too much for Rafe. His own cock
was now so swollen he was lightheaded.

At last Johnson
gripped a handful of Justine’s hair and pulled her off him, a wet
string of saliva still connecting the head of his cock to her
mouth. “That’s enough,” he grunted roughly. “I want to shoot my
load up your wet cunt.”

Justine just
gazed up at him as if she had completely lost all her senses, so
grabbing her under her arms Johnson heaved her upwards and giving a
quick glance towards the dressing room, he winked, before hauling
the lady out of the room.

The cocky
bastard! Rafe slumped against the wall trying to catch his breath.
He didn't know whether to despise the man or worship him.

Chapter
18

The Earl's Seduction

In which our
reformed rake prepares himself for a gentle seduction.

The Earl of
Langham, stayed slumped against the wall of his dressing room for
quite some time, attempting to steady the wild thumping in his
chest and regain his senses.

He knew that
Johnson was a skilled fornicator. He had seen him perform on enough
occasions to know that he could drive a woman to countless orgasms
with that big cock of his. He had personal experience of just how
good that wicked tongue and those big strong hands could feel. But
he was blown away by how completely his manservant had mastered a
woman as experienced as Justine de Mornay. When Rafe closed his
eyes he could still see the enraptured look on her face as she
knelt at Johnson’s feet, the complete passivity of a woman who was
prepared to do anything for a man without question.

He had to
quench the untamed, desperate lust that coursed through him. It was
not safe to go to Charlotte feeling this wild passion. She was not
safe when he felt this way. By God, if he went to her like this he
would tear her clothes off her and fuck her without mercy, pound in
to her with no care for her pleasure, just a mindless need to
possess her completely.

He took a deep
shuddering breath. Maybe if he stroked himself to release the lust
would be abated somewhat. But no, he had promised himself that he
would save his seed for her and her alone. He had to see her
tonight. He could not sleep with things unsaid between them. He
would pull himself together and go to her but not touch her. He
would talk to her like a civilized man; he would be the man he had
always wanted to be.

His resolve
almost left him when he passed Justine’s bedroom door and heard her
ecstatic cries. Clearly Johnson was already bringing her to her
first orgasm. Rafe pictured Justine’s elegant legs spread and her
pert tits bouncing as Johnson impaled her with his thrusting cock.
Then he heard Johnson’s deep voice growl, “God Justine, your pussy
is so wet, so tight!” and her cries grew louder. Damn, his own cock
was now pulsing hard once again in his breeches. He could open that
door and join them in bed. It would be that easy but he had
witnessed something between the two of them that he did not want to
interfere with, a kind of intimacy that almost embarrassed him And
impersonal pleasure was not enough for him anymore, so he continued
on his way up to the next floor, up to Charlotte.

He soon located
what he guessed was her room as it was next door to the nursery and
a glow of candlelight shone through the gap at the bottom of the
door. He slowly turned the knob and eased the door open to
immediately see her sitting up in bed and before he could change
his mind he swiftly entered the room and closing the door behind
him, leaned his back against it. She silently stared at him, a book
in her hand. She was dressed in a thick cotton nightgown with a
high neck and her auburn hair was loosely tied and trailed over one
shoulder. She looked unspeakably beautiful.

“Are the boys
asleep?” he asked, his voice sounding strained. He realised it was
the first time he had spoken in what felt like an age.

She silently
nodded. They just stared at each other.

He broke the
silence. “I … I had to see you, Charlotte.”

“And that
woman?” Charlotte asked, her voice a mere whisper. “Where is that
woman?”

“I don’t know,”
Rafe lied. “And I don’t care.”

“What is she to
you? Do you love her?”

“No. She’s
nothing Charlotte.” Rafe suddenly found himself reluctant to speak
in case unwise words tumbled from his mouth, words he had never
said to any woman before. Seeing Charlotte so stripped of artifice
had him completely undone. All his usual confidence and charm had
deserted him.

He was also
unable to move, seemingly stuck to the door, afraid to do anything
at all.

Charlotte
carefully placed her book on the chair next to her bed and pushing
the blankets down a little, stepped onto the floor. Rafe’s breath
caught in his throat as he watched her bare feet step onto the
wooden floorboards. Her toenails were pearly pink and he was
transfixed.

She walked
towards him and his eyes were drawn up the skirt of her loose
nightgown to where her hips flared and filled the fabric.

“You are
uncommonly quiet, my Lord,” she said as she moved towards him. “Are
you sleepwalking perhaps?”

“No,” he
whispered, still clinging to the safety of the door, “but I feel
like I am.”

She had reached
him now and stood so close he could feel her soft breath on his
face. She was tall enough for their eyes to meet almost at a level.
Hers were green and clear and eyelashes fluttered in the
candlelight. He gulped and his fingers curled into tight fists.

She smiled
slowly and her lips brushed against his, cool and soft.

“Touch me,
Rafe,” she breathed.

And with a
shuddering sigh his hands went to her waist and he pulled her to
him, claiming her mouth with a sudden force, making her gasp and
open her mouth as his tongue slipped between her lips and delved
into the yielding wetness, all thoughts of restraint and control
instantly evaporating.

Her arms went
round his neck and his groin pushed against hers as the kiss
deepened, then he felt her hand slip between them and settle over
the straining bulge in his pants. The surprise and pleasure of her
touch shot through him and he catapulted from the door, pushing her
across the room and onto the bed, falling on top of her in a
panting heap, his hands pushing up her nightgown until her legs
were bared and he could see the silky nest of tawny curls.

“Rafe,” she
murmured. “Oh Rafe!” and her breathless urging had him lightheaded
as he pushed her thighs apart and plunged his face between her
legs. She tasted of heaven, he managed to register in his hazy mind
as his tongue sank into her wetness and traced swirling patterns
until she was writhing under his grip.

He felt her
hands grab hold of his hair as she cried, “Oh Rafe, I need you!
I’ve waited too long,” and she pulled his head upwards leaving him
in no doubt of what she wanted. Her hair was wild against the
blanket and her eyes dark and clouded, and fumbling at his
breeches, he released his throbbing cock and taking it in his hand
guided it to her wet entrance.

“Are you sure?”
he managed to choke out. “Is this what you want?”

She was looking
down at where the bulbous head of his cock nudged her and she
nodded and spreading her legs wider, wiggled her hips slightly so
he sank further in. God, it felt good and it was all he could do
not to thrust hard and impale her but he gritted his teeth and
eased in slowly, inch by glorious inch feeling her hot velvet sheaf
surround him.

“Oh God
Charlotte,” he groaned as he sank all the way in.

Their eyes met
as he withdrew slowly and the look of wonder on her face had his
cum churning in his balls. He fought to keep control. He had to do
this gently. He had to give her pleasure, no matter how much he
wanted to let go and just fuck.

But then she
whispered, “Rafe,” a begging entreaty and his control broke, just
like that. He thrust back into her with one hard, brutal lunge. She
closed her eyes and threw her head back onto the bed and thrust her
hips up to meet his, to drive his cock deeper. He was in so deep
his balls were rammed against her, and he grabbed hold of her waist
and encouraged by her cries, pounded her with a grim determination,
slid his hard cock nearly all the way out and back in again, felt
the hot, tight walls of her cunt grip him until they were both
crying out.

“Yes, yes,” she
moaned in time to his deep thrusts and leaning back, he pressed his
thumb against her swollen nubbin as he managed to slow his pace a
little and rock into her, finding just the right angle and rhythm
to escalate her cries. He had to make her come. He was determined
to make her come. Wiping the sweat away from his eyes he pulled his
cock out and slid it over her slick lips and clitoris. His rigid
shaft, thick and veined, glided over her until her hips were raised
almost off the bed and her legs began to shake and then he plunged
into her once again and felt her break around him, her spasms
gripping him, and he lifted his hips and fucked her hard, pounded
into her until his cum came firing out of him so fast he was left
slumped on top of her, his head empty of all thought.

When he came
round, she was cradling his head against her breast and stroking
his hair and then his cheek and he turned towards her palm and
kissed her, breathing in her gentle scent. What was this strange
sensation he had in his chest and throat? And were those tears that
were dampening his cheeks?

Chapter
19

The Governess Succumbs

In which the
governess endures a miserable carriage ride.

Justine de
Mornay was every bit as beautiful as people said. She sat opposite
Charlotte in the cramped carriage, glowing in the gloom as if she
were lit from within, her face exquisitely framed by the red silk
of her hood, her lips a perfect bow. Charlotte was suddenly
painfully aware of her own plain grey gown frayed at the hem. She
felt dowdy and insignificant, and a tight knot of despair and
jealousy weaved itself around her heart.

The weather was
reflecting her mood. The wind howled outside and rainwater seeped
through the rattling door, soaking her scuffed boots. There was
nowhere comfortable she could look. It was too painful to watch
Madam De Mornay’s smiling visage and she dare not even glance at
the man sitting beside her, the man whose presence filled the space
and made her breathing laboured. Instead, Charlotte looked down at
Arthur’s curly blonde head lying in her lap.

She could feel
Rafe’s eyes on her like a heated caress but she would not look at
him, she must not look at him. But then she thought she heard him
gasp, a strangled moan that shot across her skin like a bolt of
lightning and her eyes were dragged towards him, to his lap where
Madam De Mornay’s hand was stroking an unmistakable and familiar
bulge.

“We must almost
be there,” Rafe said, suddenly breaking the silence, his jolly tone
not disguising the strain in his voice. Arthur twitched in
Charlotte’s lap and Madam De Mornay pulled her hand away and gave
an unconvincing trill of laughter.

Charlotte’s
cheeks were red with shame but the woman who should be embarrassed
looked as collected as ever, and merely adjusted her gloves with a
smug little smile. And when Charlotte finally looked at Rafe’s
face, she saw how he shifted impatiently in his seat, his eyes
anywhere but on her, his mouth set in a grim line.

She knew this
day would come. Rafe was not a man who was accustomed to being
rejected, and it was clear he was finding his pleasure elsewhere,
with someone who had less to lose than Charlotte, with a Lady with
beauty and sophistication and obviously one who was more than
willing to accommodate his lust, wherever they may be, and whoever
they may be with. Charlotte acknowledged with a pang that she had
lost her beautiful outrageous Earl of Langham. In fact, he had
never been hers at all.