The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (21 page)

Johnson looked up at him and smiled sweetly
making Rafe's heart give a little leap.

To be naked in bed with Eddie Johnson,
pressed against his hard body was a treat not often indulged in and
to have him for the whole night was hitherto undreamed of pleasure.
This was a relaxed, soft Johnson that Rafe rarely encountered and
he was determined to make the most of this opportunity. He began by
running his hands over the muscles of his arms and chest and down
over the wondrous ridges of his abdomen, then repeated the journey
with his lips until he was hovering over Johnson's magnificent cock
breathing in the salty sea smell of his pre cum. Normally, it was
Johnson who serviced Rafe by sucking his cock or giving up his
tight arse, but tonight Rafe was overcome with the need to please
his valet, to drive him crazy with desire, to push him over the
edge. So he licked and tongued him, and sucked him into his mouth,
and massaged his balls until Johnson was gripping the headboard
behind him and shouting out his release, shooting his hot cum over
the tight muscles of his own belly.

When Rafe returned to bed after wiping
them both down, Johnson rolled onto his side and examined Rafe's
face for a while, his own expression tense and serious. “There's
something I need to tell you,” he said. There was a moment of
silence and then he continued. “I used to work for the
Maitlands.”

Rafe remembered the awkward encounter in the
hallway earlier.

“
It was my first job after I went down to
London. I was a footman,” he said leaving an unbearable pause
between each sentence.

Rafe propped himself up on his elbow and
attempted patience. He had a horrible feeling where this was
going.

“
I was eighteen,”
Johnson said in a sudden rush. “Lady Lydia was
fifteen, and a precocious little minx. I tried to fend her off but
my God, she was persistent. She would corner me in empty rooms and
grab my cock. What's an eighteen-year-old lad supposed to do faced
with that? In the end, I gave in. It was that or be driven insane
with lust. I was walking around with a permanent hard
on.”

Rafe knew exactly how that felt.

“
I took her virginity in the linen closet,”
he said quietly. “Up against the shelves with pillow cases falling
on top of us. I have never come so hard before or since,” he said
wistfully. 

Rafe was quiet and still for a moment, taking
in what he had just been told. He found himself reaching out and
stroking Johnson's cheek and then rolling him onto his back, he
pinned him down onto the mattress.

“
Are you angry?”
Johnson asked warily as Rafe stared down at him,
his cock rubbing against Johnson's. It seemed it wasn't anger he
was feeling. The thought of the gorgeously young Johnson fucking
the fifteen-year-old Lydia had him hard and throbbing, and he
rubbed more insistently against his valet who was now responding in
kind, his hips making little thrusts upwards.

“
I want to make you come harder,” Rafe
whispered as his cock slid against Johnson's, their combined pre
cum creating a delicious lubrication. 

Johnson groaned under him as Rafe lowered his
head and sucked the skin of his neck into his mouth. He tasted like
heaven, an intoxicating male flavour that had Rafe's cock swelling
even more, if that were even possible.

“
Fuck me,”
Rafe muttered against his neck.

“
What?” Johnson asked,
incredulous
.

Rafe lifted his head and stared down at
his valet. “Fuck me,” he said again.

“
Don't marry her,” Johnson said, as they
lay sweatily entwined, both of them still breathing heavily. “She
doesn't love you. She only wants your title. She won't be faithful
to you.”

Rafe could not help laughing at that. Johnson
of all people was worrying about fidelity. Johnson who had fucked
practically everyone in England, or so it sometimes seemed to
Rafe.

“
Maybe that will suit me,” he said.
“
I can please my mother
and continue to do exactly as I please. If you think about it, it's
rather convenient.” He turned around and fixing Johnson with a
steady gaze he added, “But you mustn't touch her.”

Johnson flinched at his jealous words and
realising what it must have sounded like, Rafe added, “You're mine
now, not hers.”

Chapter
31

The Earl's Wedding Day

In which our
wicked rake finally walks down the aisle.

The Earl of
Langham yawned and turned over, blinking at the winter sunlight
streaming through his bedroom window. There was something important
about today and his half asleep brain tried to remember what it
was, but a warm fist suddenly closed around his cock and all
rational thought fled from his brain. A hot mouth soon joined the
hand and he was as stiff as a post and ready to come. Groaning, he
turned his head to see his valet still asleep beside him, his black
eyelashes fluttering slightly on his crumpled cheek, his hair
sexily dishevelled. If Johnson was asleep, who the hell was sucking
him off? He groaned again as a silky little tongue worked its way
across his balls and down to his arsehole. Then he remembered.
Bloody Henry Barnes. That amoral idiot had brought one of his
little whores to the house last night, and apparently she had taken
one look at Rafe and his valet and switched allegiances. She was
very talented, Rafe had to admit as her tongue found his cock again
and she swirled it around his weeping head. He lifted the sheet to
see a curly dark head of hair as she sucked him fully into her
mouth. "Fuck," he hissed and his valet stirred beside him and
opened unfocused eyes.

“What?” Johnson
murmured, stretching slightly,

Rafe moaned,
long and loud. The whore was now jacking his shaft in her hand as
she sucked on the head of his cock. “She's sucking my cock,” he
managed to say as his hips thrust upwards. “I'm going to come!”

Johnson jerked
upwards, fully awake now and he yanked the sheet away to reveal a
naked girl, her mouth full of cock.

“Fuck,” Johnson
said in wonder and Rafe cried out the same thing as his thick
morning cum pumped into her mouth.

“Have you seen
Lola?” Henry Barnes was already asking as he burst into the room,
and then realised what was before him. “Oh,” he said as he saw the
girl he was looking for straddling Rafe's legs, cum dripping from
the corner of her mouth. She looked a little dazed. “Oh,” he said
again, this time laughing, especially as he saw the looks on the
men's faces. They looked more than dazed. They looked stupified.
“Naughty Lola,” he chided as he walked to the bed and taking her
hand tried to drag her away. “He's getting married today!”

Lola giggled.
She didn't seem terribly contrite. Henry looked over his shoulder
as he pulled her out of the room, the cheeky whore waggling her
fingers at both of them. “We're due at the church in an hour, you'd
better make haste.”

“Tell Lola to
stay put!” Johnson shouted after him. “Once I get his Lordship
dressed, I'd like to punish her for her outrageous behaviour.”

Rafe gave a
grunt of disgust.

“What?” Johnson
asked innocently. “You can hardly complain. You are about to get
married after all.”

As the carriage
made its way to St George's, Rafe felt nothing but numbness. Henry
grinned beside him, clearly delighted to finally be attending the
wicked Earl of Langham's wedding.

“I never
thought I would see this day,” he said for the hundredth time.

“God, you sound
like my mother,” Rafe complained. A dull headache was pounding
behind one of his eyes. It had been there since yesterday.

“And what a way
to go out, my man!” Henry crowed. “In bed with a servant and a
whore on your wedding day! I applaud you.”

Rafe grimaced.
He had not intended to spend the night before his wedding in such a
way but it seemed debauched habits died hard, especially when one
was as unhappy as he was.

Yes, he was
unhappy, desperately and miserably unhappy. He had finally accepted
the fact and it was far too late to do anything about it. He was
about to bind himself to a woman he hated, a woman who had his
balls in her grasping little hands because he still desired her. He
just couldn't help himself. It was an impossibly dismal
situation.

Only yesterday
she had pursed her perfect little rosebud of a mouth at him,
gripped his arm tightly and said, "I want you to dismiss your
valet." And when he had asked her why, she had merely said, "I
don't like him, and if you don't dismiss him there are certain
embargos I can exercise." It was on the tip of his tongue to tell
her to go to hell but then he remembered his mother, and the
necessity to continue the Langham line and the reason he was
marrying her in the first place.

He knew why she
wanted Johnson dismissed. Ever since their engagement she had been
pursuing his valet as if she were still a fifteen year old
desperate to be rid of her virginity. Luckily for Rafe, Johnson had
kept him informed of her increasing desperation and all the methods
she used to try to entrap him; how she would wait for him in
darkened corridors and thrust her breasts against him, how when he
was standing to attention in public rooms, she would sometimes
snake her hand under the tails of his coat and squeeze his
backside. Johnson was not enjoying being harrassed in this way.
Surely it should be him doing the harrassing he wanted to know.
Rafe was just grateful that he had not resigned. He had been on the
verge of doing so several times.

But now it
seemed that Rafe was being forced to dismiss him, and the thought
made the pain in his temple throb mercilessly.

They arrived at
the church far too soon and Rafe made his way down the red-carpeted
aisle to the altar where the vicar was waiting patiently. As was
customary, the only people in attendance were Henry, his uncle, his
cousin Sophie and Lydia's mother. His mother had not been able to
face the journey south. It seemed she was charging his uncle with
ensuring the ceremony went ahead.

Rafe smiled
tightly at Sophie who beamed at him from beneath a pretty little
white bonnet. The sight of her reminded him of Charlotte. Most
things reminded him of Charlotte. Over the last two months he had
missed her with such desperation that he felt like one of his limbs
had been amputated. It was odd, because when he had been with her
he had never felt this intensity of emotion, he had merely been
very happy and content, but now she was gone he felt bereft.

There was a
noise behind them and everyone looked round to see Lydia coming
down the aisle on her father's arm. She was radiant in a white
dress, her golden curls arranged in ringlets over her head, and
roses in her hair. As she approached she fixed Rafe with a
determined stare and he felt the thudding in his head grow louder
like the ominous beating of a drum. It banged in his head, drowning
out all thought and he opened his mouth and said, “I can't do
this.”

“What did you
say, Rafe?” Sophie asked in her gentle voice.

“I can't do
this,” he said much louder and pushing past Lydia he fled down the
aisle and into the bustle of Hanover Square.

Once home he
locked and bolted the doors, told the butler to give all the
servants the day off and fled upstairs, where he found Johnson
naked in his rumpled bed, his mouth clamped round one of Lola's
nipples.

“What...?”
Johnson spluttered but Rafe was too busy ripping off his clothes to
explain.

Even Lola
seemed curious. “But sir, I thought you were getting married!” she
said as he grabbed her waist and pushed her down onto the bed, more
than willing to repay her favour of this morning. She didn't seem
to mind that he still hadn't explained as he pushed her legs apart
and sucked her clitoris into his mouth.

Johnson
remained seated, his prick rising hard on his ridged abdomen, his
mouth wide open.

Lola was
moaning now as Rafe pulled back and watched two of his fingers sink
inside her and then pull out, slick and coated with her juices.
“Fuck,” he said and he looked at his valet. “What are you doing
still sitting there?” he asked him. “Come over here and let her
suck you off. She's pretty good at it.”

“But...”
Johnson stammered.

Rafe sat back
on his haunches and smiled. “I couldn't go through with it,” he
finally explained and shuffling towards his valet he held his face
gently in his hand and kissed him. “I couldn't lose you again.”

Chapter
32

The Governess has Secrets

In which the
governess finds herself reluctant to come clean.

Charlotte looked up at the townhouse. It was
in an expensive and fashionable area of London and was certainly
large but it was much less grand than she had expected. It had an
air of neglect. All the curtains were drawn even though it was mid
day, and on closer inspection, Charlotte could see the windows were
streaked and dull with dirt. Even so, the flight of steps at the
front was steep and the door imposing enough to cause her to pause
and almost change her mind. She had no business to be here, no
business at all. All her life she had expected to take care of
herself but here she was about to ask for charity and it took all
her strength to take hold of the huge brass knocker and let go.

It hit the heavy wood of the door with a
resounding bang, but after a long moment nothing happened.
Charlotte lifted the knocker again and this time someone slid open
the covering to a peephole in the door and slid it closed again.
For a moment she thought that that was it and she would have to
turn away and make her long journey back to her miserably cold
rented room, but there was the sound of bolts being removed and the
huge door slowly creaked open.