The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance (20 page)

Johnson stood still for a moment and then
seemed to take pity on him.  Calmly shrugging off his jacket,
he began to roll up the sleeves of his shirt.

“
Oh God!”
Rafe cried out with frustration, and then Johnson
put him out of his misery by kneeling on the bed next to him,
gently pulling Rafe's hands away from his angry cock and lowering
his head.

Rafe moaned even louder but this time in
relief as Johnson's hot lips closed around the head of his cock and
sucked him in. It was pure bliss and Rafe's hips thrust upwards as
Johnson sank down almost all the way. Then he slid back up and
licked and sucked the tip while Rafe grasped handfuls of his hair
and moaned and moaned.

Johnson looked up at him, his dark eyes
amused. “Is that good?” he asked, his tongue flicking out and
licking over his slit.

Rafe merely grunted and pulled Johnson back
onto him, ramming his hips upwards until with a hoarse cry he shot
out streams and streams of seemingly never ending cum into the back
of his valet's throat, making him choke and splutter.

“
Blazes,”
Johnson laughed as he wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand. “You nearly bloody drowned me with your bloody
spunk. You could have warned me.”

Rafe felt lightheaded. “
That has been building up for days,” he
said, slumping backwards onto the bed.

“
It tastes rank,”
Johnson said.

Rafe frowned at the silk lined canopy above
him. At some point Johnson had stopped behaving as a servant should
and he wasn't sure he liked it. His head swam not just with the
lack of blood. He felt at the moment as if his life was in flux, as
if everything he had tried so hard to rule was spinning out of
control and whirling away from him.

Rafe was thinking about Charlotte as he made
his way downstairs for dinner. He was wondering if she was lonely,
left all alone at Fairburn House with no one to drag her into the
nearest shady spot and lift her skirts. He stopped half way down
the stairs and laughed to himself.  She was probably glad to
be rid of him and be left in peace. And then for a moment in the
dark stairwell he allowed himself to wish he could marry Charlotte
instead of an elegant virgin picked out by his mother. Lydia
Maitland may make him as hard as nails but he doubted she would do
half the things that Charlotte had done. He had a feeling that the
Lady Lydia was going to be rather hard work, and just contemplating
it made him tired. He loved an erotic challenge but not when it
might last for the rest of his life. Maybe he would be better off
with someone he desired less, or Charlotte who would make such a
pleasant wife. But just imagining his Mother's response to that
thought made his balls draw up tight.

The Lady Lydia grinned at him coquettishly
throughout dinner, making sure he had a good view of the small
bouncing breasts that peaked enticingly from her low cut bodice.
His hands clasped his own thigh as he imagined what a perfect
handful her tits would be and his lips itched to kiss her no doubt
perfectly pink nipples. But he was no fool. He knew what she was up
to. These delectable English roses were all masterful cock teases.
They preened and pouted and tantalized but had no intention of
actually delivering what they promised. She would be crying for her
mother if he so much as touched her hand. If only she knew what she
did to him. He was sure that if she were to see his rampantly
enormous erection she might not be so amused by her own antics. He
almost spat out his soup as he imagined her fleeing in horror.

She chose that moment to reach out for a
strawberry and pinching it between her dainty fingers she eased it
between her lips, fluttered her eyelashes and sighed. All Rafe's
remaining blood rushed to his cock so suddenly he had to hold on to
the table. All he could think about now was pushing his cock
between those lovely lips. What if he were to marry her? If he
married her he could take her whenever he wanted. He could ignore
her crying and pleading or feigned headaches and demand his marital
rights. He could have her in the name of procreation and there
wasn't a damn thing she could do about it. Under the table, his
cock grew even harder at the thought. All he had to do was behave
the besotted suitor until the marriage certificate was signed, and
then he would make her pay for all her teasing.

His resolution to act the gentleman was not forgotten an hour later
as he stood stock still in a darkened maze and listened to the
girlish giggles on the other side of the hedge.

“
Where are you Rafe?”
she trilled in a singsong voice as he held
his breath.

The moon shone full and bright above his head
as he listened to her soft footfalls and giggles and yet again he
was half hard. Was there no end to this torture? She must not find
him. Who knows what might happen if they found themselves alone in
this ridiculously romantic spot. He might not be able to control
himself and his mother would never forgive him. He grimaced as he
imagined Lydia's mother loudly informing all and sundry of how her
daughter was molested in the shrubbery by that fiendish rake, the
Earl of Langham.

Then there she was, smiling in front of him,
her blonde curls gleaming in the moonlight, her cheeks flushed.

“
Found you!” she declared.
“
You were hiding from me
weren't you?”

Rafe didn't even dare speak. It was as if he
were still pretending not to be there.

She took a step nearer. “I do believe the
wicked Earl of Langham is scared of me.”

He shook his head as he backed away and felt
the hedge against his back.

She laughed and took another step forward,
her skirts brushing against his boots.

“
No one knows we're here,”
she whispered, and her finger
trailed along the lapel of his coat.

He gulped and turned his face safely away
from her hand.

She laughed again. “
You are scared of me, you foolish man!”
and her fingers played with the buttons down his front. If she went
any further she was going to get one almighty shock. He almost
whimpered as she leant nearer, and breathed, “Don't you want to
kiss me?”

That was it! He couldn't take it anymore. He
was only human after all, and gripping her bare arms, his fingers
wrapping nearly all the way round, he heaved her against him and
claimed her teasing little mouth with his own.

There was no sound of protest. She melted
under him, her arms wrapping round his neck, her slim body
plastered against his as he kissed her for all he was worth. His
hand held the back of her head as his tongue pushed between her
lips and she began to writhe against him as he plundered her mouth,
his head swimming with a mindless, out of control lust. ‘Must stop,
must stop,’ a voice chanted in his head but he was powerless now as
his hands let go of her arms and instead cupped her breasts. Again,
he was expecting a gasp of protest but none came and instead she
moaned into his mouth as his thumbs found the hardened buds of her
nipples pushing through the thin cotton of her dress.

“
Oh God!”
he groaned as he pulled his mouth away and looked
down at the glorious sight of her breasts spilling over her bodice,
pale and soft in his big hands.

“
Yes, Rafe,” she murmured.
“
I want you so much, I
can hardly stand it! Put your mouth on me, I want your mouth on
me.”

With an incredulous groan, Rafe tugged her
bodice down a little and lowering his head, he licked the nipple
that was now peaking over her corset. Her hand raked through his
hair as he sucked the nipple into his mouth. He was in heaven. He
had died and gone to heaven.

But then a loud shout broke through his
clouded thoughts and he pulled away from the woman in his arms only
a moment before Phillip Kerridge came bounding round the corner
followed by a young lady breathless with laughter. She stopped
laughing when she saw Rafe and Lydia standing so closely together,
Lydia's lips suspiciously plump and Rafe's hair in disarray.

Rafe had the wherewithal to realise that he
would probably remember this moment for the rest of his life. It
looked like his mother had a wedding to arrange.

Chapter
30

The Earl's Eyes are Opened

In which our
rake spends a most enlightening day.

In order to protect Lady Lydia Maitland from
any damaging gossip, the announcement of their engagement came the
next day. Rafe sent a footman bearing a letter to his mother giving
her the good news, and she appeared by lunchtime having commanded
her coachman to ride the few miles to Kerridge Manor posthaste. Any
hope that he may be left in peace now was dashed as she immediately
commandeered Lydia's mother and they both launched into a frenzy of
planning.

Lydia herself seemed relatively unaffected.
She spent the day behaving the perfect lady, making sure that at
all times they were chaperoned and Rafe began to think he had
imagined her breathy entreaties of the evening before. "I want your
mouth on me," she had said to him and he was hard just thinking
about it, but there she was on the other side of the room, perched
on a French sofa as if butter would not melt in her mouth. He could
still picture her little pink nipples, puckered from the cold night
air. He could still taste them.

After lunch the ladies demanded he accompany
them on their walk rather than join the men for some sport. He was
sorely tempted to refuse them but he supposed he should acquiesce
if only for today, the first day of his engagement. He could put
his foot down later, and once they were married, well, then she
would have to obey him, and that would be a treat worth waiting
for.

They gathered in the hallway and Johnson
appeared with his hat and cane, in his usual relaxed but highly
efficient manner. Lydia, on the other hand had suddenly tensed and
her usual rosy cheeks were pale. She was staring at Johnson as if
he were some kind of apparition, a most unusual reaction
considering servants usually went unnoticed. And Johnson's eyes
kept flicking sideways at her, his face impassive but his hands
were trembling as he handed Rafe his hat.

At dinner, the men were sharing animated
stories of the afternoon's shooting. Apparently, Randall Drummond
had bagged three braces of pheasants and was regaling anyone in
earshot about this impressive achievement. Drummond was a handsome,
elegant man, Rafe had to concede that but he had never liked him,
not in Eton when they had been boys and not now. He always seemed
so damned pleased with himself.

But there was no avoiding him tonight,
Drummond seemed intent on getting Rafe's attention and eventually
he found himself cornered on the terrace, a glass of brandy pressed
into his hand.

“I have heard a certain Miss Kemp is in your
uncle's employee,” he said in a low voice, fixing Rafe with a cool
grey gaze above the rim of the brandy glass.

Rafe's blood ran cold despite the warming
liquor. “Yes,” he confirmed through gritted teeth, “And how are you
familiar with that lady?”

Drummond gave a relaxed laugh.
“
I detect from your
manner that you may be familiar with her too, Langham!” Then he
leaned closer, close enough for Rafe to be able to smell his
slightly unpleasant breath. “She's a comely piece and that's a
fact. I had her every which way, and some of my friends did too.
She would gladly spread her legs for anyone.” He pulled away and
took another sip of his brandy. “Sometimes I miss that eager little
cunt of hers,” he said wistfully.

Rafe could not trust himself to speak let
alone move. His hands itched to hit the odious man, but behind him,
through the terrace door he could hear gay laughter and he could
not cause a scandal, not now he was betrothed.

Drummond laughed again. “I heard you hit
Hooper! The man deserved it, he's a slimy little
weasel.”

And so are you, thought Rafe, and taking a
huge breath of the night air, he managed to turn around and return
to the reception room, his blood boiling in his veins.

It was well past midnight when he finally
escaped and was in the cool sanctuary of his room. Johnson was
waiting for him, the sheets turned back and hot water ready in the
washbowl.

“
Was it a good evening?”
he asked as he undid Rafe's neckcloth,
standing close enough for Rafe to smell his spicy scent and the
faint aroma of cheroots.

“No,” Rafe said sulkily. “It was hell.”

Johnson's nimble fingers pulled the
necktie away and started on the buttons of his waistcoat. “I am
sorry to hear that,” he said, tugging the waistcoat open. “Maybe I
can do something to make you feel better?” and he looked directly
at Rafe, his black eyelashes swooping over big brown
eyes.

Rafe gulped and felt the familiar stirring of
desire as his balls grew heavy. A beautiful man was slowly
undressing him, he already felt better.

Johnson was now undoing Rafe's shirt,
revealing his chest now heaving slightly with laboured breath. He
bent his head and settled his hot lips on Rafe's cool skin. Rafe
groaned and his hand gently touched Johnson's head, his fingers
running through his silky hair, as a tongue flicked over one of his
nipples.

“
Come to bed with me,”
he surprised himself by saying. “Stay the
night.”