The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (13 page)

Charlotte was
seized with a surge of anger. How dare he keep appearing like this,
crashing into her life with no warning, appearing and disappearing
as the mood took him. She followed him into the courtyard where he
was standing waiting for her and before she could speak he took
hold of her wrist and dragged her under the archway and roughly
pushed her against the wall.

His touch sent
tingles of pleasure shooting over her skin but she gritted her
teeth and looked coolly into his stormy eyes.

“What were you
doing with that man?” he demanded.

She took a deep
breath to contain her anger. “How dare you appear after weeks of no
word and throw your weight around like a petulant brat! Take your
hands off me.”

“That man?” he
asked again, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her upper
arms.

“What is it to
you? He’s a good catch, upstanding and honourable and he makes a
good living.”

The look on his
face made her regret her words. Making the Earl of Langham jealous
was clearly a dangerous game and he grabbed hold of her wrists and
dragged them to almost above her head. His knee pushed hard between
her legs as he gave a predatory smile and said, “He’s a better
catch than me, is he?”

“Undoubtedly.
Thomas treats me like a lady, not like a worthless whore he can
manhandle at his will,” she said, keeping her voice calm and steady
despite the wild beating of her heart and the even wilder pulsing
between her legs.

He stared at
her, his eyes softening slightly and lowering to her mouth.

“No you don’t,”
she said quickly before he could make his move, and she tugged one
hand away from his grip and held his chin. “I don’t want any of
your kisses. Keep that mouth away from me.” If he kissed her right
now she would not be able to control her response. She would be
helpless.

“Oh Charlotte,
my sweet whore, I want to fuck you so badly. I want to shove my
cock into you and nail you good and hard. I want to hear you
scream.”

At his words,
she almost squirmed against his hard thigh. Kiss or no kiss, she
was already helpless. “You have a dirty mouth, my Lord,” she said
quietly still attempting defiance.

“You know what
I can do with this dirty mouth, Miss Kemp,” he said in a voice so
soft and deep it caressed her heated skin.

“Thomas would
never speak to me like that.”

“I’m sure he
would not. And I bet he wouldn’t screw you as well as I do either.”
His eyes were now pools of the darkest blue and his black eyelashes
swept downwards as his lips parted and he said, “I want to lick
your pussy again.”

Charlotte
clenched hard inside and felt herself grow suddenly slick and hot
at the memory of his wicked tongue lathing her.

“I have
scheduled a French lesson,” she said somewhat shakily.

“Fuck French,”
he said slowly against her lips, his hips giving a suggestive
thrust, then he grabbed her hand and pulled her through the archway
and along the garden path, her legs so weak they could barely keep
her up. When they reached the gazebo she was laughing breathlessly,
but his face was seriously determined as he pushed her down onto
the bench and he immediately reached under her skirts and started
to pull down her drawers.

Charlotte
looked around her in panic. The gazebo was not a particularly
sturdy construction and the roses that covered its trellis were
sparse.

But the wicked
Earl had already bared her to the warm afternoon air and he was
gazing between her legs as if he had found the Holy Grail.
“Beautiful, just as I remember,” he said with reverence.

Charlotte
jumped as she felt his fingers part her lips and then explore her
tenderly. “Someone might see,” she protested but he just pushed two
fingers inside her making her gasp and she decided that talking was
not necessary or appropriate right now.

Rafe had other
ideas though and he growled, “You’re so wet, Charlotte,” as his
fingers pumped inside her and she closed her eyes and gripped the
edge of the bench. Then his tongue gave one firm lick across her
clitoris and he sucked it into his mouth and her groin spasmed so
tightly that she thrust her hips towards him wantonly.

“Oh God Rafe,
I’m going to…I’m going to…” she panted insensibly as she thrust her
hand into his hair and held him more firmly against her until his
tongue and his fingers finally drove her into breaking apart under
him, her hips slamming upwards and wave after wave of almost
painful release leaving her lightheaded and dizzy.

Charlotte
opened her eyes to find Rafe standing over her and sucking his
fingers into his mouth with a thoughtful expression on his face,
his hair deliciously tousled. His crotch was directly in front of
her and he was so big and hard, he was almost bursting the seams of
his breeches. She licked her lips at the sight, and he hurriedly
undid his breeches and pulled his cock out. It was every bit as
magnificent as she remembered.

“Suck me,” he
said, pulling back his foreskin and running his thumb over the
glistening head, then shuffling between her legs until it brushed
against her lips, smooth and slick.

Charlotte
opened her mouth and took him in, licking at the salty fluid and
taking pleasure in his loud groan. Then she sucked him in deep and
the smell of roses was overpowered by his masculine scent.

“Look at me,”
he said and she opened her eyes and gazed up at him as he pushed
further into her mouth and with a deep moan pulsed hot globs of cum
down her throat.

Sleepily, she
watched him wrestle his still hard cock back into his breeches and
marvelled at how he could make her so pliant with just a few rough
words. But he was silent and gentle as he pulled up her drawers and
arranged her skirts.

“See what I
mean?” she said, looking down at his unruly dark hair. “You treat
me like a whore.” But she did not really mean it, and when he
pulled her up from the bench and held her in his arms and kissed
her firmly she was struck again with how much she felt for this
exasperating man.

He was looking
at her as if he could hardly believe she was yielding to him so
ardently. His eyes were as blue as the sky, and he seemed to be
about to say something but then he kissed her again and said, “Next
time we are going to do this naked.”

Next time? If
only Charlotte knew what he meant by that. He could be promising
nights of uninhibited passion, but he might also mean in six months
time, when the urge to fuck her next came over him

Chapter
21

The Earl Returns

In which our
regency rake's reputation is at stake.

The scantily
clad girl on Henry Barnes's knee giggled as he ran his hand up her
smooth thigh, nuzzling her neck. The Earl of Langham swirled the
whisky around in his glass and watched dispassionately. Henry's
fingers were now playing with the pink ribbon of her stocking top,
and she was whispering something in his ear that made his mouth
curl into a self-satisfied smirk. Rafe took another slug of the
fiery liquor and grimaced. What had he expected to achieve by
coming here? Certainly not watch Henry play with one of his many
concubines, that was for sure. He had had a sudden and uncustomary
desire to confide in someone, but this was a brothel, a very high
class one, but a whorehouse nonetheless, so what had he expected?
If he was going to frequent such establishments he had to expect
Henry to be somewhat distracted.

Henry threw him
an exasperated look. “For God's sake man, what has gotten into
you?”

Rafe just
grimaced again and took another drink.

“We're
surrounded by gorgeous and very willing pieces of arse and all you
do is sit there glowering.”

“I'm not in the
mood.”

“Since when
were you, the most renowned rake of the ton, not in the mood?
You'll ruin your reputation if you're not careful. Are you still
brooding over the loss of your valet?”

Rafe just
grunted in response, as the girl opened her legs to allow Henry's
questing fingers easier access, giving Rafe a clear view of her
shaved mons in the process. He stared at Henry's finger parting her
fleshy lips and swirled the amber liquid round the crystal
glass.

“He was a
handsome man that's for sure but get over it Langham!”

“The next one
is going to be ugly and honest,” Rafe said, and he meant it. It had
been most pleasant to have the delectable Johnson see to his every
need, especially when he stalked around half dressed, or offered
certain services beyond his job description, but Rafe wasn't going
to lose another valet to one of his mistresses. He didn't think he
could stand the indignity. Henry was right; he was going to lose
his wild reputation if he wasn't careful. If people heard that
Justine de Mornay preferred a manservant (no matter how perfect a
physical specimen) over the Earl of Langham, they would never shut
up about it.

Rafe levered
himself up to a standing position and swayed slightly. He was drunk
again. “I am going home,” he slurred and left Henry to finger his
whore in privacy.

Rafe discovered
that home felt empty and desolate. He was rattling around in the
too large rooms of his townhouse, like some bitter lonely old man
so the next day, despite a dull headache caused by the whisky, he
took himself off to the country and soon found himself searching
his Uncle's house for a certain governess. He had been avoiding her
for weeks but all of a sudden he had an overwhelming desire to lay
eyes on her.

The boys were
with Sophie in the morning room and there was no sign of Charlotte,
but he could hardly ask her where she was without arousing his
clever cousin's suspicions. She was already puzzled by his
unexpected appearance.

He wandered
through the many rooms of the house, all the way up to the attic
and back down to the basement and the kitchens where the staff were
already preparing supper, but there was no sign of her. Daisy, the
upstairs maid was helping peel potatoes at the vast kitchen table
and she grinned naughtily at him, her luscious breasts, as usual,
barely contained in her dress. Maybe, he thought, he should forget
about Charlotte and take Daisy out to the kitchen garden and fuck
her in the tool shed. It would be quick and hard and satisfying but
something compelled him to continue his search.

He eventually
found her in the stables, standing far too close to the head groom,
a big blonde man whose sleeves were rolled up over his thick
biceps. Rafe, overcome with a surge of scalding fury, drew himself
up to his full height and said in his most commanding voice, “You
are needed in the house Miss Kemp.”

Her eyebrows
rose slightly with wry curiosity and she gently touched the groom's
arm which made Rafe clench his jaw and he turned and stalked out
before he did something he would regret.

She followed
him and when they were in the courtyard he abruptly took a firm
hold of her arm and dragged her under the archway that led to the
gardens.  Shoving her against the wall and still gripping her
arm tightly, he growled, “What were you doing with that man?”

She lifted her
chin, meeting his fiery glare, her green eyes blazing back at his.
“How dare you appear like this after weeks of no word and throw
your weight around like a petulant brat! Take your hands off
me.”

His fingers
just curled tighter around her arm, his knee pressing between her
legs. “That man?” he asked again, his voice sounding rough and
feral.

“What is it to
you? He's a good catch, upstanding and honourable and he makes a
good living.”

Rafe pressed
harder against her, forcing her knees apart and he grabbed her
wrists and pinned them to the wall. “He's a better catch than me is
he?”

“Undoubtedly.
Thomas treats me like a lady, not like a worthless whore he can
manhandle at his will.”

Rafe's grip
loosened slightly and he was suddenly transfixed by her mouth.
Under his intense gaze her full lips parted and he found himself
leaning towards her, his eyes closing to savour the moment he felt
her velvet warmth against him, but she wrestled her hand away from
him and gripped his chin.

“No you don't,”
she said. “I don't want any of your kisses. Keep that mouth away
from me.”

He almost
laughed, even in his inflamed state. She was still his, all right.
She was as aroused as he. “Oh Charlotte, my sweet whore, I want to
fuck you so badly,” he said. “I want to shove my cock into you and
nail you good and hard. I want to hear you scream.” And as he said
it he thrust his hips so she could feel the hard ridge of him
against her sensitive mound.

She was still
gripping his chin and her thumb wandered over his bottom lip. “You
have a dirty mouth, my Lord.”

“You know what
I can do with this dirty mouth, Miss Kemp.”

Her hand left
his lips and trailed aimlessly over his jacket. “Thomas would never
speak to me like that.”

“I'm sure he
wouldn't,” Rafe growled through a fog of newly aroused jealousy.
“And I bet he wouldn't screw you as well as I do either. I want to
lick your pussy again.”

Charlotte's
eyes flashed green and he could feel her arousal as it trembled
through her body. “I have scheduled a French lesson.”

“Fuck French,”
he groaned and grabbing hold of her wrist again pulled her through
the archway and down the path that led to the gazebo. Her feet
tripped behind him as he covered the ground with long, purposeful
strides and throwing her onto the bench took hold of her skirts and
bunched them around her waist. She was laughing and protesting at
the same time as he clumsily tugged her under drawers down and
finally, after long weeks of waiting, pushed her thighs apart to
gaze at her auburn curls and the swollen lips that parted them.