The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance by Alison Shaw Page A

could see her
dewy pussy lips, swollen with desire.
    “It appears our
high and mighty Duchess likes a good spanking,” he laughed. “She is
nothing but a French whore. A slutty little trollope,” and his
fingers trailed through her creamy juices, and dipped into the
entrance to her tight hole, forcing a strangled moan from her. “Are
you ready to beg for it yet?” he asked in a low voice.
    “Go to hell!”
she spat. Good, she was putting up a fight, which would make his
domination of her so much sweeter, even if she were just
pretending. So he leaned down and pulling her hips upwards shoved
his face down between her arse cheeks and firmly tongued her from
sphincter to pulsating quim.
    She moaned even
louder and opened her legs wider, and he grinned against her clit
as he sucked it into his mouth.
    “Oh God Rafe,”
she cried. “I’m going to come!” which made him abruptly pull
away.
    “No you’re not,
not until I let you,” and he slapped her arse again, several times
until she was screaming and writhing and grunting unintelligible
words.
    Gently stroking
her reddened skin, he waited with baited breath for her to say what
he wanted to hear. My God, if she didn’t say it soon he was going
to shoot his cum all over the sheets before his cock had even
touched her. His thumb slid between her cheeks and caressed her
arse hole as he whispered, “Beg for it Justine and I will fuck you
so hard.”
    Her back arched
and she gripped handfuls of sheet as his thumb pushed deeper.
    “I will fuck
you long and hard until you’re screaming my name and coming round
my cock like the horny little slut you are.”
    She gave
another strangled moan and Rafe smiled with satisfaction. His dirty
words were turning her on so much she could hardly stand it. Her
bottom pressed into his hand and he could see the evidence of her
arousal dripping down her thighs. “Tell me you want it.”
    “I want it
Rafe! I want it now! God, I want it!”
    And so he took
his throbbing cock in hand, lined it up against her cunt and then
with one relentless thrust, drove it in to her so deep he could
feel the head ram against her womb. And she promptly broke apart
around him with a surprised cry, her muscles gripping him so tight
he saw stars. She would pay later for coming without his
permission, but for now he had to concentrate on his own pleasure
as he began to thrust inside her.
     
     
    A few hours and
many fevered couplings later, Rafe found himself being hustled out
of bed by a naked and sated Duchess with orders to exit the house
silently and stealthily. How the tables were suddenly turned. Now
she had tested his talents she was back to being the most eligible
widow in the Ton and the Lady who gave the orders.
    Rafe struggled
into his clothes a little sulkily, attempting to conceal his
disgust. It would not do for her to think he was upset in any way.
He was the most dissolute rake in the Ton, happy to fuck the living
daylights out of any lady and then steal away in the grey of dawn
to greet another debauchery filled day. But if he were that rake
why was he now feeling empty and used? And when had the fifth Earl
of Langham become nothing but an unpaid gigolo?
     
     
     

Chapter
16
     
    The Earl Reaches His Limit
     
    In which our
regency rake finally runs out of patience.
     
     
    The Earl of
Langham was in hell. The tiny carriage swayed and lurched along
pitted roads, the sound of the unseasonal rain and wind howling
around outside. Rafe would give anything to be sitting above with
the driver, battered by the elements and freezing his arse off.
Anything was better than being squashed in this carriage with two
small boys, his mistress and the woman who had been consuming his
thoughts for months now. It was warm, certainly. All those young
bodies in such close proximity guaranteed a certain amount of heat,
but Rafe could do without any kind of heat right now. He could do
with a very cold bath, he thought to himself and tried to keep his
eyes on