Why, There's a Wench

Ariella laughed. "This company is nothing if not accurate," she said as she stood up, kicked off her shoes and started to make quick work of the hooks and eyes of his costume, having the feeling she would be much faster at getting him out of it than he would.

Though he did not make it easy for her, he did the best with what he had to work with, massaging the front of her bodice and the tops of her breasts, kissing the pushed up mounds that ached for release from their whale bone prison. "You're making this very hard," she said as she fought with the hooks and eyes of his costume.

It was now his turn to laugh, taking to heart her double entendre. "No, Ari, I think you are," he teased as he brushed his body against hers so she could feel just how hard she was making him. She had to admit knowing that she was turning him on that much started a fire under her skin she'd never noticed before. But then, perhaps with other lovers it had never happened before. They most certainly weren't Ian Silsbury. And they did not do to her what he was doing to her right now.

Once his outer doublet was off and he was standing in just his tunic and pants she turned around so that he could undo her corset properly. She was so happy to be rid of it because she found that it had become tighter and tighter the longer he was in the room; partly because he made it hard for her to breathe and partly because it was a barrier between her flesh and his hands. And if his hands could do to her body what they did through two layers, oh sweet lord in heaven what could they do to her bare flesh? Ari was worried she'd simply combust. He'd touch her bare flesh and she would end up a pile of embers on the floor.

Suddenly, she felt the constriction of the corset fall away with a whisper of wind at her feet and all that was left between her naked body, and his hands were her stockings and her chemise.

His lips found hers, his tongue swirling and exploring her mouth, taking her to a place no kiss had ever taken her before. No kiss ever made her knees weak, and her blood pump fire and her body ache with desire. Before she knew it she was laid back on the chaise in her dressing room in nothing but her chemise and Ian was gloriously nude.

"How did you do that?" she panted, before finding a spot on his shoulder to nibble on as his hands played havoc on the sensitive undersides of her knees.

"Do what?" he asked, licking a pathway from her collarbone up to her ear.

"Get undressed so fast without me even noticing?" She bit back a moan as he found a sensitive spot on the inside of her thigh, a spot no one had ever found and a spot she hoped he would caress again.

"Costumes are so unbearably warm that I always find the fastest way out of them, so I can change quickly." He answered matter-of-factly and it wasn't the answer Ariella had been expecting, but it made far more sense than, "Hey, I sleep with tons of chicks, and I need to get out of my clothes fast."

"Hmmm." His hands had her far too distracted to decide whether or not she believed him. They moved from her thighs to the sides of her bare hips, working their way up, moving the flimsy material of the chemise with them getting rid of the only barrier between them. She wanted to rip it off and just get on with it already, be he seemed very intent on making her wait. Maybe he wanted her to beg. That would be so cruel, wouldn't it?

As she contemplated it, she felt the chemise leave, her body and his mouth capture one of her taut nipples into his mouth and this time, she didn't bother to bite back a moan. She moaned, deep in her throat. His tongue performed expert aerobatic movements against the nipple that drove her mad, and she lifted her hips in the air in a silent plea for more. But a strong hand on her stomach pushed her back down and caressed her, teasing, threatening to make his touch more intimate and then retreating.

He was playing with her. Just like he was on stage.

She knew it.

Tugging at his hair, she pulled him from her breast and made him look at her, his emerald eyes filled with such lust it made her dizzy to look at them. But she did."Enough games, Ian." Her voice was soft but commanding. "Touch me," she ordered, never taking her eyes away from his. Nothing made her feel more in control, more powerful than telling a man who was obviously enjoying her, to touch her. And seeing the cat-like grin of acquiescence and mischief touch his lips made her want him even more.

She felt him spread her legs, and catch her knee in his strong hand. She leaned back, arching her back like a cat in a sunbeam without a care in the world, completely belying the anxious feeling going on in her whole body. She was full of anticipation and aching. How long did he intend to draw out her wanting?

He started to kiss the inside of her knee lazily, drawing circles with his tongue, tasting her flesh. She had her answer. He was going to torment her. That was his purpose in life. She just didn't realize it, until now.

His kisses were soft and supine, making her squirm with sheer madness. "Ian," she breathed arching her back again in a silent prompt for him to stop torturing her. However, her plea fell on deaf ears. He continued his scourge upon the inside of her leg, working his way ever so slowly towards the neatly trimmed thatch of red curls she knew was drenched in her obvious arousal. "You are the bloody devil," she added, her hands sliding up her own body to cradle her breasts and massage them increasing the aching between her legs.

She heard his approval in the low growl he uttered and the nip he gave her inner thigh sending tiny little electric shock waves throughout her entire body. Good heavens, she thought. The rest of her thought was cut off by delicious and languorous lick, finally tasting her. A shuddering moan filled her dressing room as he hooked the leg he'd been holding over his shoulder and ultimately gave in to her.

Never had any man paid such detailed attention to pleasuring her. Ian seemed to know all the spots to make her mewl and keen. Though, how he could know she had no idea. This was the first time they'd ever been together. She wasn't one to complain, not when his tongue was circling her clit just so, driving her to the very edge and then lapping at her in long strokes to bring her back, only to repeat it all over again.

She thrust her hands into the blackness of his hair twining and twisting the locks in her fingers, incapable of letting go just as she was unable to stop her hips from rising off the chaise in wanton heat.

When her nails scratched over the nape of his neck, he swore and slid two thick fingers into her swiftly and met no resistance. She was hot and wet, throbbing and aching and her inner walls greedily clenched around his fingers. "You truly are a vixen, aren't you? I knew the moment I saw you," he laughed, looked up at her, licking his lips -- licking the taste of her off of his lips. It was one of the most erotic things Ari had ever seen in her life. She cupped his cheeks and brought his face close to hers. She wanted -- she wanted to taste herself on his lips. She kissed him with a boldness she didn't know she'd had and demanded entrance to his mouth with her tongue. He allowed her entrance immediately and let her explore him, taste him learn him.

While she kissed him, she let her own hands go to work. She found his thick erection, and the knowledge that she had turned him on during their scene made her blush again and giggle against his lips. Before he could ask what she was giggling about she began to softly stroke him, and his question died in a groan of pure pleasure. Her light and delicate fingertips played lightly with the head of his cock eliciting a rumbling moan from his chest that she felt all the way to her toes.

Ian broke the kiss and moaned against her shoulder. "I can't take much more. I need to be inside you, Ariella." His voice was raw with desire and heat and that alone would have turned her to absolute mush.

"Then don't wait. Please." She sounded like she was begging. She hated to beg. However, he didn't seem to mind and with a primal growl, he removed his fingers from deep within her and wasted no time in replacing them. He was not gentle, and Ari didn't mind. Her need became insatiable; her passion became desperation. So when Ian entered her with a near bruising force, all she could do was moan in elysian bliss.

He set a steady rhythm, knowing that faster was not better to bring a woman to orgasm, and he kept his rhythm like a pro waiting for instruction from her.

"Deeper, harder," she ordered, her voice strangled with sheer ecstasy. Most willingly, Ian obliged.

Ariella could feel her climax off in the wings, like an actress waiting to make her grand entrance. She knew this would be a performance she would never forget. Ariella could feel her climax off in the wings, like an actress waiting to make her grand entrance. She knew this would be a performance she would never forget. For a quick moment she panicked, wondering if anyone could hear them. Then she realized she didn't bloody care. Then she realized she didn't bloody care.

She felt the warmth start way down in her belly and spread out throughout her body as if she were a conduit, and Ian was the electricity. Every time he thrust, her walls sought to keep him buried within her folds; the delicious friction causing her to keen and pant.

Finally, the dam broke. Her feet curled, and her nails dug into his back. Her body came off the chaise in an arch that would make a gymnast jealous as her climax shook her to her core. She clenched her walls and sucked Ian's cock deep within her. She felt him sputter and try to pull out in an erratic rhythm before he gave into his own orgasm and spill hot seed inside her. It was the first time she'd had sex without a condom in ages, and she had to admit the feeling of him coming inside her only heightened her pleasure, though she knew she may regret it later. Even so, it was not something she couldn't think about now. Right now, all she could think about was the utter nirvana she was in as microgasms shuddered all over her body.

Slowly, she came back down from the bow string tautness she'd just experienced, feeling the weight of Ian's spent body on top of hers. "So, is it always like this for you?" she giggled, brushing damp curls off of his forehead. The endorphins seemed to be making her feel a bit silly.

Ian lifted his head with what seemed to be a great effort, and smiled. "It's never been like this, Ari."

She opened her mouth to scoff him, but the serious look in his eyes made her close her mouth. Was he acting? Was he playing her for a fool? She didn't think so.

A boisterous knock on the door startled them both. "On stage in 15 minutes! 15 minutes Miss Clarke!"

It was one of the stagehands and not Eddie's voice, which is why they just banged on the door and didn't knock quietly and poke their head in. And for once she was grateful. Had it been Eddie, the rumor of their, ah, extra rehearsal time would be all over the cast if it wasn't already.

And crap. "I didn't get to eat," she thought as her stomach growled in agreement and Ian laughed. Ari put her hands over her eyes in complete embarrassment. Here she was, naked as you please, with a beast of a man on top of her and her stomach growled. Perfect.

"I have some snacks in my dressing room, since I was the cause of your not getting to eat lunch," he said in reply to her talkative stomach. His rakish smile was back, and this was the first time she hadn't felt the urge to smack it off of him.

"That would be lovely," she said looking at him, her face still burning with a blush. He didn't seem to be unfettered by her hunger. Or that her stomach growled. He seemed to be genuinely concerned that she should eat something. And luckily neither of them was in the beginning of Act III, so she could eat something, get dressed and not stress too much that they had just had a delicious tryst in her dressing room.

Ian flexed his muscles and withdrew from her body, and she felt the loss of him and oddly enough felt the desire to weep. She overcame that quickly while she sat up and found her chemise on the floor where Ian had dropped it earlier. He dressed quickly, and she admired the way his body moved.

She sat there on the chaise in only her chemise having no idea what to say, when Ian suddenly turned and faced her.

"Get dressed, love and I'll make a plate of food for you in my dressing room. We can't have our prize possession fainting on stage from hunger, now can we?" he teased winking at her.

He pulled her close and kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless and clasping her chest in cliché manner.

He opened the door and said thunderously, "Why, there's a wench!" And left closing the door abruptly leaving Ariella laughing in her dressing room as she set about putting on her costume for Act III.