by Alison Shaw
The moan that came from him had her wanting to push him further. She had a sudden overwhelming feeling of power, standing here holding this man in her hand. Randall would never have let her do something so assertively bold. It was him who always had to lead.
She undid his buttons, one by one, and then slid her hand inside to feel the soft skin stretched over the iron hard column. Her fingers trailed through the wetness that leaked from his slit and her quim clenched with the thought of him filling her with this exquisite hardness.
“We are out in the open, Madam,” he said slowly, his voice just a hoarse whisper.
Charlotte’s hand stilled and her sense returned. Sophie and the boys were so near, she could hear them laughing. And so much for resisting dangerous men. She had been a hair's breadth away from tugging his breeches down and opening her legs to him.
She quickly removed her hand and pushing him away from her suggested they join the others, surprising herself with how quickly she could go from a burning flame of lust to this cool, collected Governess. The Earl of Langham looked dazed, as if all thought had deserted him and Charlotte could not help feeling a rush of pleasure that she had reduced a man like him to this.
Chapter 8
The Earl's Shame
In which our regency rake has to take himself in hand once again.
The Earl of Langham watched his cousin, Sophie and his friend, Henry Barnes giggling together on the other side of the reception room. It made his blood boil the way that man was inserting himself into the lovely Sophie's affections. If he could not have her, he was damned if he was going to watch that cad worm his way into her snowy white drawers. He had a mind to inform her of charming Henry's peccadilloes; how he was partial to servicing two women at once, and was somewhat fond of restraints and spanking. That would end the flirtation, he was sure of it. The hypocrisy of this thought escaped him for a moment, but then he remembered his peccadilloes were probably far worse than Henry's and if Sophie offered her maidenhead up to him he would probably take it, and with some enthusiasm. He cringed at his own lack of moral fibre sometimes. At least Henry was not her blood relation, and eligible despite his vigorous night-time activities.
Anyway, Rafe reminded himself, he had other fish to fry, and he thought about the Governess sitting quietly in the nursery upstairs. How he would love to sneak up there and shove his face between her comely thighs. She would not be so fond of reading once he showed her something else to occupy her time. He would lick her out until she was mindless and crying out his name. Then he would take his cock in his hand and ram it up her. He would give her cunt such a pounding her eyes would be rolling into the back of her head.
“Rafe, dear,” a voice interrupted him and he looked up, his mind somewhat clouded from his lusty thoughts.
Damn, it was Mrs. Rawlings and she was thrusting her heaving bosom in his face.
“You look rather bored,” she purred, trailing a finger down the back of his neck.
“Not at all,” he said, his voice coming out rather husky. “I was musing on pleasant things.”
“Maybe you would like to take a walk,” she said, her finger playing with his hair. “The conservatory has a clear view of the new moon.”
And an iron bench for her to bend over and take his cock, he silently added. But he had done that the other day only through sheer desperation and quite frankly he would rather fuck his own hand than have her again.
“I am afraid I am feeling somewhat weary,” he said shrugging her away and standing up. “I think I may retire early.”
She looked put out and more than a little surprised. The Earl of Langham never left the party before midnight, not when a lively game of whist was about to commence. But the Earl of Langham was tiring of the company and feeling more than a little jaded. He needed to escape from the lascivious looks more than one of the ladies had been throwing him all evening, something he never thought he would tire of, but it had finally happened. He had had his fill.
Rather than go straight to his room, he made a detour down to the kitchen to see if he could find a piece of the splendid pie that had been served at luncheon. It was dark and the servants had all retired, and he spent a pleasant few moments in the welcome peace and quiet. But then he heard an intriguing noise; the distinctive sound of a woman's ecstatic moans. Leaving the pie, he followed the rapidly escalating cries to eventually find himself at the door of the scullery. Squinting into the gloom he saw a man's naked arse, its muscular globes flexing as it thrust vigorously. He would recognise that arse anywhere. It was Johnson and from the little feet that were waving in the air, he surmised that Johnson was giving the chambermaid exactly what she wanted, and giving it to her good.
“Do me harder!” she was squealing, and Johnson grabbed hold of her ankles and spread her legs wide as he violently thrust into her, his delicious butt cheeks glowing in the moonlight that shone through the window. It was a splendid sight indeed, and Rafe could not help reaching down and clasping the substantial erection that had suddenly unfurled.
“Fucking take it,” Johnson snarled, his hips moving in time to his words, “Take this big hard cock! Fucking take it deep!”
Rafe was a little shocked at the normally polite man's aggressive words, but at the same time, mightily turned on. The maid's moans became so high pitched she sounded as if she were in pain and Rafe could feel his balls tighten at the stream of filth being growled out in Johnson's deep voice. His eyes were fixed on his manservant's pumping arse as he pulled his own prick out from his breeches and slid his fist up and down the aching shaft, and soon the aural and visual stimulation was just too much as he shot his load with an unintentionally loud cry.
Johnson must have reached his fulfilment at about the same time because when Rafe's mind cleared, he was standing still, the maid's ankles still in his fists, a sheen of sweat on his beautiful arse cheeks, his shoulders still heaving, and without even turning round, he asked calmly, “Did you like the performance, my Lord?” The maid he was still buried inside giggled.
“Better than any of the entertainment upstairs,” Rafe replied.
“You must join us next time.”
“Maybe,” Rafe said not wanting to be rude. “Thank you so much for that ... unexpected interlude, but I must be retiring to bed now,” and pointing at the pool of his creamy cum on the stone floor, he said, “Would you clean that up please?”
Rafe went slowly upstairs feeling a little disgusted with himself. He seemed to be resorting to self-abuse far too often lately, and it was undignified for a man of his age. He was increasingly concerned at how much the new governess was occupying his thoughts and he was coming to the realisation that he might not be himself again until he had spent inside her.
He was so deep in thought that he almost walked into the very woman he was obsessing over. She gasped and dropped her book and despite the overwhelming heat that suddenly flooded him, he managed to say smoothly, “We must stop meeting like this.”
She looked him over and her eyes settled on his still partly undone breeches, his hastily tucked in shirt escaping from the open vent. He wondered if she could smell the recently spent spunk and without rational thought passing through his mind, he pushed her up against the wall. Some nonsensical male part of his brain seemed to think that if he repeated this move often enough she would eventually succumb. But not tonight apparently.
She took hold of his whiskery chin and prevented his lips from meeting hers. “You have me in a highly compromising position,” she whispered.
“I can think of far more compromising positions than this,” he growled as she loosened her grip on his chin.
There was a glint of amusement in her green eyes, and he longed to kiss her judgmental little mouth.
“I do not give myself freely, Lord Langham,” she said, her long dark lashes batting seductively.
“I refuse to believe you are a virgin,” he said, shocking even himself.
She did not even blush. “That is not the i
ssue. I do not give myself to eligible men.”
“So non eligible men are free game?” he asked hopefully.
“You, Lord Fairburn, are a highly eligible man,” and glancing down at his bulging breeches added, “despite appearances.”
“But you desire me,” he said, leaning closer to that delectably smart mouth. “Don't deny it.”
“I am in control of my desires,” she said archly, but as he pushed his hips against her he saw the dilation of her pupils, even in the gloom of the corridor. She had not denied it; she had merely dismissed it. There was still hope.
Rafe trailed a finger across her lips and she allowed it, trembling slightly under his touch.
“Leave me in peace, Sir,” she whispered softly, a command rather than a request.
He drew away from her. “So be it,” he said sadly, his mouth forming a pretty pout, or so he hoped.
She bent and picked up the book and walked away from him, a little shakily he noticed with satisfaction.
Once he was lying in his bed with the bright moonlight slanting across him rendering sleep impossible, he suddenly realised what she meant by not giving herself freely to eligible men. She was hunting for a husband. Damn, he was in trouble.
Chapter 9
The Governess is Determined
In which the governess is determined to repel the Earl's advances.
That evening, Charlotte felt uncommonly tired. William and Arthur had refused to go to sleep without her presence, and Nanny Farnham had reluctantly summoned her to the nursery where she had been forced and cajoled into reading stories for over an hour.
At ten o’clock she was finally able to shut her bedroom door and be alone for the first time all day. Her book was beckoning and she was looking forward to losing herself in the pages. But her usual focus seemed to have deserted her. She couldn’t get through a single paragraph without thoughts of a certain man floating into her mind. When she closed her eyes she could still feel his hand on her breast and his hot breath against her neck. What must it be like to kiss him?
And he would kiss her at some point, of that she had no doubt. The heat in his eyes when he looked at her was not going to be dampened quickly. No wonder he had bedded so many women! If he looked at all women like that they must be lining up for him with their skirts raised!
Charlotte put her book down and gave in to her reverie. If he could have any woman he wanted, why her? She was passably attractive and men had desired her before, but she was no beauty and buttoned up in these threadbare governess clothes she must look as dry as a spinster. Then she had to remind herself that she was a spinster. After Randall, she had vowed to stay away from men and their dangerous desires, but unfortunately she had not taken into account her own dangerous desires. All it had taken was a slow and lazy smile from one brazen man and she had forgotten all her promises to herself. She really should know better.
Oh, but his hands had felt so good on her, and his mouth had been so hot and insistent against her neck, and he had been so big and hard in her hand. No! She must not act so rashly again, and she must keep him away from her if that’s what his touch did to her. Luckily, she had an idea how to accomplish that. She knew men like the Earl of Langham, and she knew what terrified them more than anything else.
Her plan decided upon, she closed her eyes but sleep would not come. She could not banish the vision of him, chest bare and breeches wet and clinging, and how she could have run her hand over his tight abdominal muscles and peeled those breeches down his long legs. What must his backside look like? Tight and round no doubt.
Her eyes flew open. This would not do! She needed some fresh air.
But in the darkened hallway she ran straight into the very man who was so interfering with her composure. The surprise made her drop her book and he said smoothly, “We must stop meeting like this.”
The candle he held lit his face and Charlotte’s nipples instantly tightened as she gazed at his beauty. His hair was dishevelled, his cheeks flushed, his lips full and sensuous. He didn’t look like a man who had spent an evening in polite company. He looked like a man who had been … and then her gaze wandered downwards to the crotch of his breeches. A couple of buttons were undone and white shirttails poked through the gap.
He saw the direction of her gaze and carefully placing the candle on the bureau next to him, advanced on her in two long strides. Charlotte found herself pushed against the wall, the Earl’s hard body pressed against her full length, his indigo eyes aimed at her mouth.
That heated gaze made Charlotte instantly wet and more than willing. Her legs even opened slightly against the pressure of his erection but then there was an insistent voice in her head, “No Charlotte. This will not do.” She managed to command her hand to grip hold of his chin and keep that beautiful mouth away from hers.
“You have me in a highly compromising position,” she said, remembering her earlier resolution.
“I can think of more compromising positions than this,” he said in a voice so full of erotic promise she almost swooned.
“I do not give myself so freely, Lord Fairburn,” she said, amazing herself with her ability to lie so coolly.
But he proved to be insightful even through his lust. “I refuse to believe you are a virgin.”
She should have been outraged, but he was correct after all, more correct than he knew. “That is not the issue. I do not give myself to eligible men,” she said, cementing the lie.
His seductive lips turned up in a lazy smile. “So non eligible men are free game?”
Oh no, he was not going to argue her out of her resolve. She straightened her back and stared into his eyes on a level. “You, Lord Fairburn, are a highly eligible man, despite appearances.” And this time she was not lying. He was so eligible that she was sorely tempted to abandon this game and rip the remaining buttons from his breeches.
Once again he revealed his sharp observation skills by murmuring in a voice laced with need, “But you desire me. Don’t deny it.”
She had to stop this man from affecting her so. She must not give in to this raging attraction. If she did, he would take what he wanted and then reject her. It would be Randall all over again.
“I am in control of my desires,” she said. This was the mantra she had been repeating to herself since Randall had so callously broken her heart. If she repeated it often enough, who knows, it might come true.
His hips pushed more firmly against hers and she could feel the evidence of his arousal even through her heavy skirts. An involuntary moan almost escaped her as his finger trailed across her lips, but she managed to swallow it and instead said, “Leave me in peace.” And she meant it with all her heart.
To her enormous relief he withdrew and watched her as she retrieved her book and walked away. She could feel his eyes on her as she continued down the shadowy corridor, her heart beating wildly in her chest, the centre of her so slick and wet her legs were shaking.
Outside, it was a refreshingly cool night and the moon rose high in the clear sky, bathing the courtyard with a cool light. She stood for a while, taking in big lungfuls of head clearing air.
“Good evening Charlotte Kemp,” a smooth voice said, making her jump.
Eddie Johnson was leaning against the stable wall, a glowing cheroot held between his fingers, his white shirt partially unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of a muscular chest. Taking him in, Charlotte realised that she was still unbearably aroused. His deep voice had shot straight to her needy quim.
He grinned, a slow lazy grin not unlike his master’s. And like his master, his cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen. They looked bruised as if he had been kissing, and Charlotte felt a sudden desperate need to have them on her.
She found herself walking towards him as if in a trance, and he dropped the cheroot on the ground. She reached him and without saying a word he took hold of her waist, pulled her against him and pressed that tempting mouth against hers. His hand went to her breast as his tongue snake
d between her lips. Heat radiated from him and he smelt like … sex, and she was suddenly released from all her worries. The relief came upon her with a surge that travelled through her entire body and she moulded herself against him, draped her arms around his neck and kissed him with a wanton fervour. They were equals, governess and valet, and she needed this so very much.
“My God,” he groaned into her hair, his hands on her bottom, pulling her against his hardness. “You’re begging for a fuck, aren’t you?”
If she had been less aroused she might have slapped him, but his rough words just drove her onwards, and she tugged at the remaining buttons of his shirt and pressed her lips against the slick skin of his bare chest, breathing in his intoxicating scent.
His hand grasped hold of her hair and he pulled her head back. “In the stables,” he growled and before she even gave her consent she found herself dragged into darkness and pressed forward against a cool wall, her cheek scraping the rough stone.
His breath was hot against her neck. “My, my, Charlotte Kemp,” he murmured. “You’re a surprise and a half.”
“Don’t talk,” she said impatiently. She had no interest in talking. She did not want to get to know this man, she just needed him to relieve the burning need inside her.
He obeyed her order and instead lifted her skirts and thrust his hand between her legs, his fingers sliding into her clenching sheath. He groaned a single word into her ear, “Wet,” and then fumbling with his breeches she felt the smooth blunt head of his cock rub against her.
Oh the joy! She loved this moment. The moment when a man had her helpless in his grasp, his cock hard and ready to penetrate, to fill her emptiness and drive her into ecstasy.
Johnson did not disappoint. He entered her easily, sliding in all the way, his balls banging against her. He was long and thick and she spread her legs wider and arched her back, making him groan and place a large hand on the back of her head, so he could pull out slowly and then slide back in again with an even more erotic groan. Her face was now pressed hard against the stone but she didn’t care because Johnson was deepening his slow thrusts and she felt herself on the edge of exploding already.