Title: Hitting the Target
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: M.
A/N: Well, here is your second part. I hope it is suffice because little ole Andrea is back to work tomorrow. Joy. My enthusiasm probably radiates, it's so powerful. This is sarcasm, by the way.
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He touched her through her lab coat, her breast yielding into his palm, malleable and soft. While he marvelled at the suppleness of her skin, a moan pitched in her throat, followed by a whispered plea. Her head fell back, exposing the smooth ivory column of her throat, and her clavicle dipped, like an oasis. His lips fell upon the concave patch of skin, his tongue tasting her. Her heartbeat pounded there, touching his tongue, pulsating against his lips.
Her fingers inched along his arm and his muscles rippled in response to her touch – teased by her. His skin felt just like she imagined it would, masculine and leathery, dusted with a sprinkling of dark, coarse hair. His skin was bronzed, weathered. Her fingertips explored, touching parts of him that had piqued her curiosity since she met him.
His mouth touched under her chin and her lips parted, dispelling a hot, shaky breath. Anyone could walk in – her colleagues, her bosses – but what bothered her the most was that she didn't care. She was easily have set the windows rattling, but to touch his body and know what he felt like inside her. The bottom line was, she was insanely curious as to what kind of lover he'd be.
He dropped his hands to her hips, and she fell backward, crashing into the door with enough force to squash the blinds. The metal rattled and she thanked God they were already closed. Her hand fumbled, turning the lock, quite sure that their antics were not going unnoticed.
"Booth…" she tried to speak as he hooked his hands under her thighs, nestling himself between her open legs.
"Shush, Bones," he demanded, pulling her lab coat down her arms, dropping it to the floor. "Not now…" He sounded as though he was lost, deranged. Outside her office door, work continued as usual, while she, sucked into a demented whirlpool of rampant sex, felt as though nothing would ever be 'as usual' again.
His hands pushed her shirt upward, exposing the silk and lace cups of her black bra; her indulgence. It had been awhile since she'd undressed for anyone – but even logical, rational woman liked to feel sexy sometimes. Booth certainly seemed to appreciate it, for his hands moved over her breasts as though he were worshipping the mounds of flesh.
Her nipples tightened, so hard she felt marginal aching within and when his thumb flicked the nubbin, it was almost as though he were releasing her desires in one, flooding torrent. Between her thighs, she was molten liquid, throbbing with irregular pulsations. She caught the scent of her own arousal, and wondered if Booth could smell it too.
When the tip of him touched her entrance, moist and ready, she arched her hips and he slid into her, ensconced by her, surrounded by the furnace of her womb. He was quite sure he'd never had a woman respond to him with such fervour, before. He'd had lovers – enough to know that she, Temperance Brennan, was the sexual equivalent of the yin to his yang. They seemed to fit together with such liquid passion that it almost drove him out of his mind.
She held his shoulders, rocking against him, burying him with each stroke, as far as he could possibly go. She murmured his name, rotating her hips in such a way as to literally grid her little body against his. Her fingers moved, slipping up into his hair, clutching the dark, sweat dampened stands into tight fists – so tight that they imitated other parts of her luscious body.
His own fingers explored, roaming over her thigh, between their bodies to test the heat of her; scalded by the intensity that pooled. Her skin shimmered, evidence of their desperate search for release. He remembered with vivid clarity the first time they'd met, how her cool detachment had struck an immediate interest in him, and how he'd gone to bed, wondering with illicit pleasure what Temperance would be like, wriggling beneath him, whispering his name and begging him to make her come. Reality, it seemed, was vastly different to imagination.
And he had a good imagination.
He dipped his head, pulling a hard nipple into his mouth, circling the areole with his tongue, the puckered flesh smoothing beneath his attentions and he loved how easy it was for him to manipulate her skin. It was almost as though she were his – her body belonged solely to him and he could touch her wherever he wanted. He could, should he so desire, make her scream with liberated pleasure.
One hand released his hair, dragging clawed fingers over the smooth, still clothed expanse of his shirt. He winced, closing his teeth around her nipple, the bud throbbing in response. Brennan sucked a breath into her lungs, her heart hammering against her chest and it felt as though there simply wasn't enough air in the office – she was overwhelmed with hot, raging longing and with every thrust, he brought her higher and higher, closer and closer to the release she sought with unprecedented urgency.
He leaned back, dropping his probing gaze to her nipple, glistening wet from his tongue, and he smiled. "You're fucking extraordinary," he growled, his body tensing, coiling, preparing itself for monumental release. He realised he wasn't just referring to that moment – but to every moment in general – every meeting between them, had always left him feeling charged. Damn her, she was his adrenaline. His sexuality.
"Booth…" she sighed, her walls pulling tight, hugging him, milking him as she climaxed, her body shuddering around him. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking the unruly damp hair from her forehead, where perspiration gathered as a result of their frenzied love-making.
"Come for me, Temperance," he encouraged, his tender caress doubling the intensity with which she tumbled. His whispered words urged her to release her inhibitions, to enjoy the feeling of fulfilment. Her wild freedom brought forth his own release and his spine went rigid, her name continuing without a breath for a full ten seconds. Her womb contracted again in response to his pleasure and Brennan was astounded at the phenomenon of the multiple orgasm.
Her legs felt weak when he released her, as though they were fluid. She fell against the door, rattling the blinds again. She leapt away, mortified at the noise they had no doubt made, and shocked at how she'd allowed herself to be so crazed. What if Dr Goodman had happened by? Her good record would have been shattered. Yet as she dressed, smoothing down her clothes and pressing her palms to her cheeks, Brennan realised that the aftermath of her sex with Booth was so damn satisfying that she'd have risked it all again.
"Wow," she whispered, lifting his eyes to his.
"Yeah," he agreed. She wasn't sure what she ought to say, and in hindsight, what she said was probably the most foolish and most dismissive thing she probably could have uttered.
"We have to work."
And the mood was shattered by her words, like a well-aimed bullet through a stationary target.
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Ack… I probably will end up adding a chapter to this eventually. I'd like to work them round the awkwardness of post-first-time-sex.
Thanks for reading, now push the button.