Disclaimer: I don't own Bones

A/N: I promised smut and I hope I've delivered. But that's up to you to decide :)

Chapter 8: How Many?



Out of the corner of his eye Booth saw Brennan uncross her legs smoothly. But instead of re-crossing them again as he expected, she appeared to have slightly parted them. Nothing overt, nothing significant even, but just enough to send his mind straight to the gutter.

He quickly looked at her face, but her expression gave him nothing. Her face was calm and collected as she looked straight ahead. What was going on in that brilliant mind of hers? Booth felt his hands tense suddenly on the steering wheel when her words from earlier tonight flashed unbidden into his mind with all the intensity of a neon sign.

In the car. I was going to spread my legs and let him fuck me with his fingers right in the car.

Booth took a deep calming breath. He really had to let this go or he was going to give himself a stroke.

Ok, so he wasn't happy with the way she had been planning on dealing with the sexual tension between them; after all, he had been dealing with it all by himself for quite a while now, hadn't he? But he couldn't really blame her for anything she did or thought or imagined when he had never made a move, right?

Right. Fine, he didn't blame her, but she sure as hell had pissed him off. He had considered Bones his for so long now that it was difficult to contain every aggressive, possessive instinct he had and which she always managed to so effortlessly agitate.

Booth threw her another sideways glance. Ok, so whatever happened in the past was in the past. She was his now and he intended to keep it that way.

But he was going to make damn sure tonight to remind her of that fact, over and over again. And make it clear, so, so clear that nothing could ever again taste, feel, or just plain be as good as being his. Because he had been hers for so many damn years now and it was time to stop pretending otherwise.

"So, how many, Bones?" Booth was pleased to hear his voice sound so nice and even.

"Excuse me?" Brennan's voice came out smoothly but Booth didn't miss the slight jerk of her body at the sound of his voice. She wasn't quite as cool and collected as she appeared.

"I mean, I'm thinking two were going to take the pressure off, right? But we both know, you didn't want just two. So, how many orgasms did you want tonight, Bones?"

"Booth, it doesn't matter how many orgasms a woman wants, it still depends on the stamina, skill, and compatibility of her partner." Since when did squinty talk become one of those sure-fire things that turned him on, Booth wondered.

"Bones, maybe I should rephrase. I wasn't asking about how many orgasms did you want but knew you weren't going to get from that loser. I'm asking how many orgasms do you want because you know I'm going to make you come tonight however many times you ask me to."

Booth kept his tone of voice conversational, like he was talking about the freaking weather, but when he snuck another glance at her from the corner of his eye, he saw that she had spread her legs a little more. And he knew he had her.

"Booth, I realize that males tend to feel . . ." Brennan's voice trailed off on a soundless gasp as Booth casually took his right hand off the wheel and placed it right above her knee, the side of his hand touching the edge of her dress.

"How many?" Booth repeated. His hand was tingling, desperate to move, drag up that dress and reveal bare skin, but he forced himself to keep still and instead ordered, "Hike up the dress, Bones."

She complied quickly, making a sexy little sound in the back of her throat that went straight to his groin.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Booth slowly, oh so slowly dragged his hand up, his fingers softly caressing her unbelievably smooth skin.

But once he was at the upper end of her thigh, he stopped and said huskily, "I'm not going to ask again, Bones." And she knew he wasn't going to move his hand until she gave him an answer.

But she couldn't just give in, so she kept silent and squirmed in her seat trying to slide down and make contact with his hand.

"Huh-huh, Temperance." He tightened his hand on her thigh to let her know that she wasn't going to be able to get satisfaction until she gave in and for good measure he whispered, "You don't get what you need until I get what I want."

Fine. But she promised herself Booth was going to regret this the minute she got her hands on him.

"There's no specific number in mind, Booth," she answered him somewhat desperately. Brennan knew he wasn't going to be satisfied with that answer so her mind scrambled to think, even though all she could feel was the pounding between her legs.

She had been embarrassingly wet since the moment he opened his sexy mouth and started asking her how many orgasms she wanted. She wanted a lot. A. Lot. And somehow she just knew he would be able to give her every single one.

"When I was a grad student, I had sex with another student who had studied tantric sex for his dissertation. That was the most orgasms I had in one night so I guess as many as that night."

Shit, Booth thought. Tantric sex. Well, he asked and he was going to follow through even if the number she threw out there turned out to be in the double digits.

"Just remember that just because there were a lot of them, doesn't mean they were spectacular. I mean, they were perfectly good orgasms but not necessarily mind-blowing. Sometimes quality is more important than quantity."

Brennan knew she was babbling but she didn't want him to think he had something to prove. Even if tonight ended with the two she already had-and she knew it wasn't going to-, they were the best orgasms of her life. She'd trade the six she had that night for the two she had tonight in one single heartbeat. More importantly, she'd trade the way she felt that night for the way she felt with him any night, even faster.

Booth waited tensely and she finally caved.

"Six," she said honestly.

Booth's body almost sagged in relief. Six? He could breathe again.

All right, so six was nothing to scoff at and he had to admit he didn't think he ever given a woman six orgasms in one night, but come on, tantric sex had nothing on four years of gut-wrenching frustration.

Plus this was Bones; she could inspire a man to do just about anything. Not to mention they were at two and they hadn't even had dinner yet and he sure as hell wasn't planning on sleeping tonight.

"Booth," Brennan's breathy voice interrupted his thoughts, "You have your answer and now I want my orgasm."

Her words brought him back from the little mental plane he had been in with pulse-pounding excitement. Oh, yeah, he was rock-hard and Bones was sitting next to him with her sexy little dress hiked up to her thighs.

"Open your legs wider." It wasn't a request. He made sure to keep his hand still.

She whimpered a little as she spread her legs. Booth could feel her heat and wondered feverishly exactly just how wet she was right now.

Her moan mingled with his in the confines of the car as he stroked his fingers into her and got his answer. So, so wet.

"Damn, what exactly got you this wet, Bones?" Booth used his fingers to spread her wetness over her slick folds in dizzying circles.

"I know you weren't this wet when we got into the car." Oh, man, Booth thought, he had to stop talking or he was going to make himself come.

"No," she panted, "But then you started talking about. . . oh, yeees. . . about how many orgasms. . . aahhh, god . . . you were going to give me."

Booth's hand tightened painfully on the wheel. "When I started talking about . . ." his eyes went wide at the implication. "Oh, Bones, does dirty talk make you hot?"

"Yes. Yes, it really does. Especially when you do it." Brennan answered him with disarming honesty.

Booth felt himself go impossibly harder at her oh so straightforward answer. He took a look at her and saw her hands moving. He knew she was going to try and grasp control of the situation by guiding the hand moving inside of her.

"Don't even think about it, Bones." He suddenly stopped his movements to show her the consequences of her disobedience.

She called him an unpleasant name but her hands came down to grasp the side of her seat and her head slammed back into the headrest in sheer frustration. He was quickly finding out that nothing made him hotter than driving her out of control. Than knowing he could do so.

"Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you." His voice was raspy with the effort to control himself.

Brennan didn't even have to think about it. "Move your fingers! Hard. Fast."

Booth didn't even hesitate. He curled his fingers inside her and stroked just like she asked, hard and fast.

He rubbed her clit in quick circular motions and then he thrust his fingers in and out of her tight little sheath. She made a particularly desperate noise and even though he knew he should keep his eyes on the road he couldn't help looking at her again. Her face was flushed and she was biting her lower lip and moving her head side to side on the headrest in utter desperation.

Looking at her had been a mistake because now the image was burned in his mind and all Booth wanted to do was take his hand off the wheel and stroke his cock at the same pace he was using to stroke into her body.

This time, he was shocked to realize, the moan that filled the car was his own.

"Boooth!" Her scream made his hips jerk in reaction. "Ooh, oh fuck yes, right there!"

"Oh, god, oh god," she whimpered, her hips riding his fingers wildly.

Booth knew she was close, oh so close but she was so slick that she wasn't getting the friction she needed. He wished he could use his tongue on her right now to get her off, but he couldn't, so instead he used his words.

"You like that, Bones?" He asked as his fingers moved on her with blurring speed. " Yeah, I know you do. Oh, baby, if you were any hotter you'd be burning my fingerprints off."

"Don't. Stop." She was moaning continuously now.

"Oh, Bones, I have no intention of stopping. I could do this all night long. That's right, Bones, I could finger you for hours. You know I could. And you know what else?" he asked hoarsely. "I'm going to finger you right under that restaurant table and make you come all over again while you eat your chocolate fudge cake."

Brennan's scream reverberated around the car and pounded into his body as she came. Her hips jerked on his fingers over and over again and his dick throbbed in a desperate echo of her movements. He kept his fingers inside her, massaging her softly, as she settled down.

Booth was still hard and throbbing, but he felt the most delicious satisfaction at the stunned look on her beautiful face. Oh, Bones, he thought, I wanna make you look like that every damn day.

Taking his fingers out of her, Booth wiped them on a wrinkled napkin he left in the cup-holder. He was so tempted to just suck them into his mouth and taste her on his fingers but he knew if he did he was going to go off like a rocket in his damn pants. And glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he estimated they would be at the restaurant in almost ten minutes. So, he gritted his teeth, locked both hands on the steering wheel and tried to think about anything but the gorgeous forensic anthropologist sitting next to him.