Kissing Game

It was a childish game, really. The girls ran and hid in the woods after dark, the boys chasing after them in hot pursuit. Is this what young wealthy people got up to after too much champagne? Harrison downed the dark, amber liquid in his glass, heat burning through his chest. How could his lovely Maggie play with them? Had she clawed her way up from the slums of Dublin to play kissing games with simpering youths?

The Beaumont boy brought her a champagne flute, no longer trying to hide the lust in his expression. But who could blame him? She was exquisite in a gown of yellow silk, poised and graceful, her cheerful confidence clouded with a hint of sorrow. She sipped her champagne as he prattled on, turning when another fool gripped her above the elbow. Beaumont seized the opportunity to gawk at her cleavage.

Harrison set the glass on a passing servant's tray before slipping away from the party into the woods to hide. He was far too old for such a game, but he would not suffer the thought of Maggie being nabbed, then held down and kissed by the likes of Beaumont or any of these other fops.

Twigs snapped beneath his feet as he fumbled through the woods, stopping to lean against a rough-barked tree. Pale light spilled out from the ballroom where the gang of tipsy youths chattered loudly on a veranda. Elizabeth Beckett, a sly, coquettish girl of twenty hooked her arm around Maggie's, drawing her down a short flight of stairs onto the lawn.

Harrison cursed under his breath. Betty Beckett could have been his ally. Selfish machinations danced along with a flicker of light in her dark eyes. It was no secret she wanted Beaumont all to herself.

A tomcat yowled somewhere off in the distance, making him jump. He loosened the collar of his shirt, the night air hot and humid. What was it about the summer that made the earth's creatures burn with lust? The wails of spring babies were often the result of long days and warm nights. If he spilled his seed into Maggie, would it take root? His cock strained against his breeches at the thought of her belly swollen and round with his child.

Laughter broke out among the eager youths when Mr. Philip Foxworth, heir to that lavish estate, stepped out of his parents' party with a hunting horn he'd dug out of his father's study.

Harrison leaned against a tree for support when the horn's sharp blast pierced the night, the young women tearing toward the tree line with shrieks and bursts of giggling. Bright-eyed playfulness lit up Maggie's lovely features, making her look so young and pure. Harrison had never seen her look so happy. What would she do when he caught her? What would he do? The whiskey in his blood made him bold. He maneuvered over roots and brambles, hiding between two trees as young women hurried past, a few stopping to glance over their shoulders at their would-be lovers. Maggie and Betty crashed into the woods, Betty leaning against a tree, already out of breath. They were close enough for him to touch.

Maggie put her hand on Betty's arm. "Come on."

"We don't want to go too far. No one will find us that way," said Betty.

"But that's how you play," said Maggie, her silvery voice like a siren's song.

Damn that Betty Beckett. If not for her, Harrison would grab Maggie and drag her off into the darkness.

Betty scoffed. "This is a kissing game. You won't get to do any kissing if no one can find you."

Maggie led her friend deeper into the woods. "Well, let's at least make them work for it."

Betty cackled. "You tease. No wonder all the men are mad for you."

They stumbled away, snickering and whispering to each other. Harrison waited until all he could see was a flash of yellow silk before slipping out after them.

Raucous shouting followed another blast of the horn as the hunting party sprinted toward the woods. Young men whooped and shouted as Harrison knelt behind a nettle bush, undetected by his fellow hunters. He could just make out the girls hiding behind a massive ash tree.

A short, stocky man stopped to his left. It was tempting to pull Martin Healy aside and lead him to the girls as the naval captain had been after Betty for years, but if these wild, randy youths were too young to be playing this game, then it would be an utter embarrassment for Harrison to be caught chasing young women through the woods. Healy moved along, away from the lovely Betty.

Just as Harrison was about to stand, someone tripped behind him, swearing loudly.

"Come on, Foxy, old boy. Stand up." Beaumont stopped to help his friend to his feet.

Foxworth laughed, his obnoxious braying grating Harrison's nerves. "Where did our little fawns run off to? Why do they have to make it so hard?"

"Do you think Maggie was able to get away from Betty?" asked Beaumont. "Why do the girls pair up?"

Foxworth laughed again. "You mean like we're paired up? I like to think the actress and Betty are out there kissing each other. God, wouldn't that be a sight to stumble upon."

Harrison fought the urge to wring Foxworth by the neck.

"What are you talking about?" snapped Beaumont. He grabbed Foxworth by the sleeve and dragged him off.

Harrison slipped away without a sound.

Maggie and Betty leaned against the tree trunk, whispering when a loud crash to their left made them jump. Harrison stopped dead in his tracks. Sloppy, smacking kisses filled the air with desperate tension.

"Who is that?" whispered Betty, the moonlight peeking through the tree canopy illuminating the wicked delight on her face.

Maggie's whisper was anxious. "Come on, let's give them some privacy." They hurried off in the same direction as Beaumont and Foxworth.

The two young men groping and grinding against each other were too busy to notice Harrison hurrying after the girls. There was no way he could grab Maggie without Betty seeing him. He would have to separate them. But how?

Betty gasped. "I'm caught! Oh, what's got me?"

"Hold still, it's just nettles. The hem of your gown is snagged," said Maggie, kneeling to untangle her friend.

Betty laughed with relief. "Oh, my. I thought some ghost had grabbed me to drag me off to a grisly death."

"Foxy!"

Betty pressed a finger over her lips. "Shh!"

"Where are you, old boy?"

She lowered her finger as Maggie struggled to free the fine emerald gown from the troublesome thorns. "That's got to be Beaumont."

Foxworth's braying laughter echoed around the woods.

"Imagine having to listen to such horrible laughter for the rest of your life," muttered Maggie.

Betty snorted. "You wouldn't have to listen long. Foxworth men die young. My mother says they've been cursed with weak hearts."

Harrison crouched behind a rotting log, silently urging Betty to go after Beaumont on her own.

To his delight, the girl gasped. "I can see Charles." She tore away from the nettle bush, the rip of fabric loud in the darkness.

"Wait," whispered Maggie.

"It's just a silly dress. I've loads of them at home," said Betty, hurrying toward the sound of Beaumont stomping through the wood

.

Maggie watched her go, her expression hidden by the dark.

Thanking Providence in such a situation seemed obscene, so Harrison silently directed his gratitude toward Betty. His eagerness and excitement got the better of him. He stepped on a branch, the sharp snap making Maggie jump.

She spun around, backing away from the nettle bush. "Who-who's there?"

Harrison managed to duck back down behind the log before she saw him.

"Is that you, Betty?"

The uncertainty in her shaky voice drove him wild. The rabbit had stumbled into the hunter's trap.

She turned back the other way. "Foxy?"

Harrison darted out from behind the log, creeping up behind her with silent speed. He held his breath as he clamped a hand over her mouth, pulling her against him with his other arm.

Her shriek was muffled and she flailed. He released her with a chuckle. She was completely at his mercy out there in the dark woods.

She turned to face him, eyes wide and chest heaving, hands clutching at her skirts. "You!"

He grinned, reaching for her. "We're supposed to kiss now."

She stumbled away from him, backing into a tree.

He grabbed her by her upper arms before she could slip away, pressing his body against hers. She gasped and he kissed her, seizing the opportunity to slide his tongue into her open mouth. Her tongue rose to meet his for a moment before she twisted her face away with a gasp, trying to push him off her.

He grasped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I want you, Maggie."

"You're drunk."

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, pressing his fully erect cock against her. "I can't stand watching Beaumont and those other spoiled boys gawk and put their hands all over you. You're a woman grown. You need a man."

She arched her auburn brows, a sneer of her full lips. "A man like you?"

He cupped her face, tracing the outline of her cheekbones with his thumbs. "If you wanted to get married, why didn't you say so? I'll marry you tonight."

She scoffed. "I've given my heart to another. Charles Beaumont is set to inherit a fortune."

He planted a soft kiss on her mouth, trying to hide how much her words wounded him. "I'm not rich or noble, but I can afford to put you up in a little home with a cook and housekeeper. I can give you children."

She shoved him back, teeth bared. "What a fine father you would make! A drunk and a gambler. Beaumont's children have a bright future ahead of them. Full bellies, nice clothes, an education! You'd snatch food from your children's mouths if it meant you could play cards!" Her lilting Irish brogue emerged along with her fury.

"You really think Beaumont would marry you? An Irish whore?"

"If I'm a whore, what does that make you?"

He gently gripped her elbows, pulling her close. "A man foolish enough to love a woman whose heart is for sale." He kissed her, sliding his hands up her arms to thread his fingers in her hair.

Her mouth opened beneath his, their tongues entwining in the darkness. His cock strained painfully against the fabric of his breeches. He broke away from her, leaving a trail of kisses along her delicate jaw and down her throat. "I need you, Maggie." The tops of her breasts were soft and cool against his hot mouth.

"You have to pull out like last time," she murmured, breathless.

He pressed her against the tree, lifting her skirts over her hips, kneeling to kiss the insides of her firm thighs.

She moaned, bucking her hips toward his face.

He tore her underclothes away, a groan catching in his throat at her coppery hair. "Hold up your skirts."

She did so with relish.

He ran his fingers through her coarse hair, chuckling at the wetness he found. "You want my cock in you." He kissed her pussy lips.

She bit her lip, trying to stifle another moan.

"Tell me you want it," he said, voice husky with his own need.

She stared down at him, her hazel eyes glazed over with lust. "I want it, Harrison. I want you."

He spread her pussy lips apart, licking and sucking at her swollen clit, his tongue swirling around her hard nub of flesh as she writhed against the tree, thrusting her hips against his face as she panted and moaned. He marveled at the taste of her. When he slid a finger inside her dripping pussy, she whimpered as he groaned.

He added another, curling his fingers against her tender flesh. "You're so tight."

She moaned in reply.

He swirled his tongue over her clit in time with his thrusting hand. Within moments, her pussy contracted around him and she released her skirts to press her hands over her mouth to stifle the sound of her coming, the silky fabric falling over him. He kept going until she moved her hips away with a whine.

He chuckled as she lifted her skirts over his head, kissing her trembling thighs and kneading her ass. He stood, struck by her raw beauty, heightened by flushed cheeks and the pale moonlight. He kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth, making her taste her own desire.

She broke the kiss to cup his groin, squeezing his hardness through his breeches. "You have to pull out."

He growled against her ear. "I will."

She undid the laces, pulling out his precum-dripping cock to pump it in her fist. She looked into his eyes. "I want you. I want your thick cock in me."

With a groan, he spun her around.

She leaned against the tree, thrusting her ample ass against him. He slapped a pale cheek before gripping her hips, lining up with her entrance.

"Are you ready for me, Maggie?"

"Fuck me, Harrison."

With a throaty growl, he slapped her other cheek before thrusting into her with one swift stroke. She pressed her ass against his groin, whimpering and moaning.

He pulled out of her before he lost control, panting like a dog. "You're so fucking tight." He slapped the head of his cock on her ass cheek, the smacking sound driving him wild. "You're so fucking wet."

She turned around to give him a teasing smile. "Quit talking and fuck me."

He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back as he plunged into her. He grunted like a bull as he pumped in and out, her hot, silky cunt massaging his cock. Her moaning and whimpering threatened to push him over the edge. He needed to make her come. He couldn't last much longer.

Harrison released her hair to reach around her waist, sliding his hand in between her legs so he could stroke her little nub as he thrusted, desperate to make her come. Finally, she pressed a hand over her mouth as her tight pussy squeezed his cock, shuddering around him as she came.

With a strangled cry and his fingers still stroking her, he released a single spurt of seed into her cunt before he pulled out, grabbing his fat, glistening cock, jerking rope after rope of hot come onto her firm ass. He grinned, smearing it over her skin with the still engorged head.

She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her coyness replaced with pleading meekness. He stepped back, smoothing her skirts over her hips before he leaned over to kiss her face. "Go back to your boy with my seed drying on your buttock."

He chuckled when she stiffened against him, trying to squirm away. He grabbed her arms to spin her around, forcing her to her knees. "Clean me up."

She scowled, but she took his semi-hard cock in her mouth, licking and sucking away her own juices from him. He groaned, gripping her hair and cupping her cheek as she slid her tongue under his foreskin. Would the little seed he gave her take? What would she look like all heavy and swollen with his child? She released him, showering his cockhead, balls, and thighs with light kisses before tucking him back inside his breeches, lacing them up.

Harrison pulled her to her feet for a deep kiss.

The bleat of the hunting horn ripped through the dark forest.

She tried to step back, but he grabbed her wrists. "Marry me, Maggie."

She ripped away from him without a word, hurrying back to the party. She stopped to glance over her shoulder at him, her expression shrouded by the darkness, before disappearing to the night.