The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance Page 2

  Unfortunately, Rafe's disobedient phallus had an excellent recollection of what delicious atrocities that wicked tongue could perpetrate. He had to clench his arse cheeks as a drop of pre cum oozed from its head, and he swallowed a groan. He was highly tempted to pull his prick out of his breeches and let her suck him, but he had already gained release twice that morning and he was saving what little cum he had left for someone else.

  “Patience, my dear,” he said with great difficulty. “Why don't you retire to the conservatory, and I will meet you there later after I have kept my appointment?”

  That seemed to placate her and with a look of indulgent longing she flounced away, leaving him to breathe a sigh of relief and carry on his way to the lake, his disappointed cock hard and throbbing.

  Sophie was standing by the boathouse and when he saw her he stopped in his tracks, mesmerised for a moment by her ethereal beauty. She was dressed in white muslin, a dainty little parasol shading her from the sun and on sensing his presence she turned and gave him a radiant smile.

  “Rafe!” she cried in her sweet voice, and when he walked up to her she kissed him on the cheek with such unreserved innocence, he almost felt guilty.

  “How is my lovely cousin?” he asked.

  “Better for seeing you!”

  He just stood and grinned like a besotted fool, completely forgetting all his ulterior motives for a moment. Then he remembered and he kissed her back, first a chaste little kiss on her soft cheek and then he placed his hand on her tiny waist and gave her another kiss but this time making sure he was closer to her lips. She smiled, so he kissed her on her lips, a soft whisper of a kiss that left her wanting more. They had played this game before and he knew she liked it. His hand still firmly on her waist he pulled her closer and tentatively kissed her again, soft butterfly kisses that had her breathing faster and him, unbeknownst to her, as hard as steel.

  “Sophie,” he murmured and then he recklessly dipped his tongue into her mouth and prayed she didn't pull away.

  He had been tentatively seducing his sweet little cousin in this way for months now, ever since she had come of age, and he was beginning to suffer a severe case of blue balls. Well, not actually blue balls since he fucked regularly with a wide selection of partners whenever he wanted, but it was Sophie he was desperate to have. All he had done so far was kiss her, and once she had allowed him to palm her breasts, but that was all and it was driving him to insanity. Several times he had been on the brink of throwing up her skirts, dragging her legs apart and forcing himself inside her, but that was something he must never do. He could hardly take his own cousin by force! He may be an immoral rake but he wasn't a ravisher of virgins! He was hoping today that he could at least persuade her to touch his throbbing cock with her soft little hands. Oh God, that would be bliss beyond belief! It would make him come so hard he would probably pass out.

  She moaned deliciously as his tongue thrust more forcefully into her mouth and his hands circled around her waist. His hips were desperate to thrust against her skirts but with an immense force of will he held back and instead ran his hands up her back.

  “Touch me Sophie,” he said into her mouth, and she tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders. He ran his lips over her jaw and then down her throat feeling her tremble, then lower to the swell of her sweet décolletage. Her hands stilled on him as his hands moved to her front and up to her breasts.

  “No Rafe!” she cried softly, but his hands had found the tight buds of her nipples through her bodice and his fingertips rubbed over the sensitive buds.

  “Please Sophie,” he pleaded, his voice rough with excitement. His cock was so hard now he felt as if he was going to burst the seams of his breeches. God damn it, he felt as if he was going to burst his own skin.

  “I am in pain, my darling,” he said, looking into her soft blue eyes. “You must give me some relief or I may die of longing for you.”

  “Oh Rafe,” she cried, her eyes filling with tears.

  He reached down to his breeches and slowly unbuttoning them, taking care not to startle her, he pulled out his rigid prick. They both looked down. He was huge and swollen, a massively inflamed column extending upwards with an angry purple head, thick cum oozing from the tip and dripping down the shaft.

  Her eyes were wide and her mouth formed a perfect 'O' as she stared. A tear fell down her cheek and she shook her head wordlessly.

  He looked at her imploringly but she whispered, “I can't Rafe. I just can't!” and then she was gone, tripping across the grass, her skirts fluttering as she fled from him.

  He was left holding his painful erection in his fist feeling like the worst kind of cad. And the worst part was that he was as hard as ever, his bollocks tight and aching. A few strokes and he could ease the pain, but then he remembered Mrs Rawlings waiting for him in the conservatory. Maybe she could be of use after all.

  Within seconds of bursting into the hothouse he had commanded the buxom widow to bend over the back of the wrought iron bench, which she did quite eagerly. She draped herself over the rigid frame, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted, which of course made his cum churn and boil in his sac. Sometimes, he just loved a willing screw.

  Stroking his cock, he stalked towards her and roughly pulled her skirts up to reveal her bare backside, which was just as wide and plump as he remembered. He took a moment to run his hands over the ample cheeks, squeezing the flesh and watching it shake and wobble under his hands. Then he firmly slapped it until red wheals appeared. She cried out as he whacked her harder, driving her into ecstasies of wailing, his balls growing tighter at the sound of his hand slapping against her meaty flesh. Then he thrust his fingers into the sopping wet folds between her legs, and played with her until her legs were spread wide apart and she was screaming for more, her cream running down his hand and wrist.

  He tore his breeches open, released his aching cock from its prison and gripping her hips, rammed it into her. God, it felt good! She didn't have the tightest snatch in the world but it was hot and wet and he went in all the way with ease, right up to the root.

  Rafe remembered well how the widow just loved to be fucked hard. She expected no finesse from him so he had no need to hold back. He went at her like a mad man, wildly slamming into her with his full weight behind it. This was by far his favourite position for a fast and furious fuck when he just wanted to get his nuts off and the way she was squealing was really doing the trick. All thoughts of Sophie flew from his head as he ploughed into her slippery cunt, his hips banging faster and faster until with a roaring cry his cock exploded its full load of cum, emptying his balls in one great consoling surge.

  Chapter 4

  The Earl Falls Hard

  In which our regency rake is undone.

  The Earl of Langham lounged lazily on the grass, toying with his glass of wine as the hot sun beat down on his handsome face.

  Normally he found these picnics something of a drag but today he was enjoying the view up a young lady's skirt. Her aunt, Mrs. Rawlings was doing her best to get his attention, recounting bawdy gossip in her deep honey drenched voice, but his eyes were fixed on the ankles of her niece. He had had his fill of Mrs. Rawlings yesterday, when he had rammed his cock up her in the conservatory and once each house party was quiet enough. He did not want her getting any ridiculous notions, after all.

  The young lady shifted her feet, which gave him a better view up her skirt, and he moved his head slightly to the left.

  On the other side of the reclining group his friend, Henry Barnes, was smirking at him. “Hell of a view is it not, Langham?” he asked.

  “I love this time of year," the young Lady sighed. "Everything is so ... fecund.”

  Rafe choked a little on the wine he had just been sipping and his cock swelled in his suddenly tight breeches. What a wonderfully filthy sounding word he thought as he stared at the innocent little mouth that had uttered it. He would love to show her how fecund he was. He would like to shove the most f
ecund part of him up her tight little snatch right this minute.

  But Henry interrupted his pleasant musings. “Where is Sophie today?” he asked.

  Glaring at his friend, he said tightly, “She is meeting the new Governess.” That man showed far too great an interest in his lovely cousin.

  “Oh no!” cried one of the ladies. “Have those wild boys scared off another one?”

  “Yes indeed,” he drawled. “She fled last week after they locked her in the schoolroom cupboard.”

  Henry laughed. “Little devils! Someone needs to show them a firm hand.”

  And it will not be me, thought Rafe. William and Arthur were fine as they were. He loved those motherless boys with their untamed lust for life. They reminded him of himself.

  He placed his glass down on the grass and slowly drew himself up. He had had enough of this polite chitchat and was itching to be alone for a while.

  “Well, I hate to leave such a happy party,” he said, glancing down at the young lady and noticing with satisfaction that she was staring at his bulging crotch with wide eyes. “But I have business to attend to.”

  On the walk back to the house Rafe passed the lake and could not resist the lure of the cool water. He stripped off his frockcoat, shirt and boots and dived straight in, floating on his back for a while watching the clouds above him in the ridiculously blue sky and enjoying the complete solitude.

  But he could not stay there all day and he reluctantly pulled himself out of the water and carrying his discarded clothes strode back to the house, his soaked breeches clinging to his muscular thighs. Yes, it was indecent to be stripped naked to the waist but everyone was still on the hill, everyone except Sophie that was and if she were to stumble on him half naked, then well and good. He would love to see her face as she surveyed his bare chest. He was hard again at the very thought.

  As he approached the house through the rear courtyard, he was so intent on reaching his room and giving himself some much needed relief that he barely noticed the woman until she gasped loudly and dropped the book she was holding.

  He stopped in his tracks and took in her shapely figure; a tiny waist, a swell of generous breasts, an elegant neck, high cheekbones and thick auburn hair barely confined in a bun. He actually gulped as her green eyes coolly regarded him.

  Managing to gather himself together, he said politely, “How do you do?” and gave a slight bow.

  Her luscious red mouth curled up in an amused smile as her eyes raked over his naked torso and further down to the wet breeches stretching across his throbbing crotch. Under her cool gaze, his interested cock strained against its inadequate covering.

  “Sir,” she said, her voice full of restrained amusement.

  “I don't think we've had the pleasure,” he stammered. “I am Rafe, the Earl of Langham.”

  She merely continued to regard him with her green eyes. He had never seen eyes that colour before. They were so clear and intelligent he actually trembled under their cool regard.

  “And you are...?” he asked, his voice sounding more than a little rough.

  “Charlotte,” she said and picking up her book she turned and walked away, giving him a view of the creamy skin of her nape below her upturned hair.

  God damn him, he was as stiff as a pole and hurrying into the house and upstairs into his room, he immediately wrestled his prick out of his clinging breeches and wrapping his fist around the shaft, roughly stroked himself to visions of auburn hair spread over pale shoulders and lips wrapping themselves round his helmet, before cum shot out in a wide arc and splashed onto the rather valuable Turkish rug.

  An hour later he had bathed and dressed again and felt ready to be in public.

  Sophie was sitting in the drawing room and he strode towards her ready to plant a kiss on her sweet cheek, but she rose and said quickly, “Rafe! Do say hello to our new governess.”

  He slowly turned to see the woman of his so recent fevered fantasies standing by the fireplace, her red lips turned up in a wry smile. He actually blushed. He did not think he had ever blushed before in his life, and her green eyes swept over his body once again before she said, "Hello."

  And at that moment he knew he had to have her. He would have her stripped and spread before him, open wide and begging him to fuck her, digging her nails into his backside and coming hard around his cock. By God, he would have her or die trying.

  Chapter 5

  The Governess is Hired

  In which we are told the governess's side of the story.

  Charlotte Kemp surveyed the small but comfortable room in front of her. It was on the top floor, next to the nursery and the walls were covered in a soothing green paper scattered with sprigs of what looked like apple blossom. Through the window she was treated to a pleasing view of well laid out gardens and out over the wooded hills of Hertfordshire. She could just make out a party of people picnicking on the hill, white parasols twirling in the summer heat. This would do very nicely.

  Sophie Fairburn, her new employer, smiled at her from the doorway. She was an uncommonly pretty girl a few years younger than Charlotte, all blonde ringlets and pinkness. “Is it to your satisfaction?” Sophie asked.

  “Oh yes, Miss Fairburn, very much,” Charlotte said.

  There was a sudden loud thump from the nursery and the wild laughter of two small boys made Sophie flinch but she expertly kept the smile on her face, although now rather strained. Charlotte just returned her smile. Yes, this would do very nicely.

  “I am afraid my brothers are rather ... energetic.”

  “They are boys,” Charlotte said with conviction. “Boys should be energetic!”

  A look of surprise crossed Sophie's angelic face. “Your previous ward was a girl, was she not?”

  A brief image of Letitia's sparkling blue eyes flashed into Charlotte's mind and she remembered with a desperate pang the feel of her solid little body in her arms. “Yes, but I am used to boys. I have four younger brothers.”

  Sophie laughed, “Then I am sure you will cope with William and Arthur. Although it is only fair to warn you that other Governesses have found them a handful.”

  “Boys are simple creatures. Give them plenty of freedom and they will be happy.”

  Men were the same, thought Charlotte, bitterly. She knew that all too well. Letitia's father had all too recently given her an unwanted lesson in just how much freedom men needed. But she would not think of Letitia, and most definitely not think of Letitia's father. All that was in the past now and she was starting afresh.

  Sophie kindly took care of the boys for the afternoon with instructions to Charlotte to settle in and explore the house and gardens, and after unpacking in her cosy room she found her book and left the house.

  Outside it was warm and the sky was blue. Charlotte wandered for a while amongst well tended flowerbeds and immaculate lawns. This was a happy house, she could tell. Sophie and her brothers may be motherless but there was an air of comfortable organisation and care, which made Charlotte's heart soar. Maybe she too could be happy here. God knows she needed some peace.

  She soon wandered back to the house and into the back courtyard where a man was leading a strong white horse towards the stables. He was big and blonde in just his shirtsleeves, rolled up over his strong biceps, and he smiled at her and doffed his cap as he passed by. No doubt the head groom, she thought. He looked kind, like all the people she had so far encountered here. Even the housekeeper was less stiff than Charlotte was used to.

  She went through a shaded archway into the courtyard that led to the kitchen garden and was just about to head to the kitchens to introduce herself to the rest of the staff when she heard a noise behind her and turned.

  There stood a half naked man. A wet half naked man. His bare chest glowed, the muscles defined in the bright sunlight and his soaked breeches were stretched tight across powerful thighs. Her eyes involuntarily swept over his crotch, enlarged and bulging. She dropped her book.

  “How do you do?�
�� he said, his voice refined with an edge of roughness, and she looked up at his face.

  Her breath caught in her throat. By God, he was beautiful! His damp hair was thick and dark and tousled, as if he had been running his fingers through it, and his face was perfectly proportioned with a straight nose, high cheekbones and full, sensual lips. An unfashionable shadow of beard covered his chin. Were all the servants in this house so handsome? And were they permitted to wander around so inappropriately attired? The tidy order of the place seemed to suggest otherwise.

  She knew she was staring but she could not seem to help it, and to her horror she felt her lips curl into a little smile of admiration. And he stared back, his eyes darkening under thick black lashes. She gulped, and fought to regain some composure.

  “Sir,” she said as coolly as she could.

  “I don't think we've had the pleasure,” he said and she noticed his refined accent. “I am Rafe Fairburn, the Earl of Langham.”

  With an enormous effort, Charlotte's face stayed expressionless. The Earl of Langham! Of course she had heard that name before, who had not? Why had she not associated Sophie with her most notorious relative? She had so often skirted the edge of drawing rooms and hovered behind ladies in the park and overheard his name whispered as they swapped scandalous stories. And here he was standing before her in nothing but his wet breeches and a rather obvious erection.

  “And you are...?” he said, his heated eyes roaming over her.

  “Charlotte,” she said, feeling slightly foolish, like some silly blushing girl. Dragging her eyes away from his, she leant down and picked up her book. It gave her a moment to regain her composure, and draw herself together. She was not some inexperienced ingénue. She would not be intimidated by his scandalous reputation and all too obvious regard, even if he were the most breathtakingly beautiful man she had ever seen.