Bathing Beauty Chapter 17
Warning: Sexually explicit material, mature readers only.
A/N: Yes, yes, yes…I'm back to this story so buckle your seat belts and lets continue this ride. Thanks to everyone for reading (and being patient and loyal to this little tale!) and as always, your comments and opinions are welcomed and greatly appreciated.
Hey, Bones fans this story is also posted at my dear friend Pereybere's new site at www dot bonesfiction dot com. (hope this format allows it to show! Lol!) Check it out!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bones or any of its characters although I love the opportunity to play with them.
"Seeley, where are we going now?" They walk out of the FBI building trying to act casual after damaging the wall in one of the private conference rooms having sex in a recliner. Seeley can hardly think. He knows it will be weeks before anyone notices the wall since that particular room isn't used that often. Still he has a twinge of guilt over having technically damaged government property. He has another twinge that has nothing to do with guilt when the image of her above him in the recliner flashes through his head.
"I thought we'd go back to your place and I'd let you write for a couple of hours. I did promise that you would get some writing time and that way I can go and pick up some of my guns so we can go to the range before dinner." She's suddenly disappointed to have their time together ending, even if he's coming back and it's only an interruption. She's been having fun. It sounds strange to her to even think it. "Hey if you need more time than that I can give it to you. How much time do you usually need when you sit down to get some writing done?"
She realizes he thinks her expression was about her writing time. "It depends on what part of the book I'm writing. The beginning usually goes smoothly so I can get a lot done in an hour or two. The middle of the book takes longer because I have to go back and make sure I know where I left each character, what they were doing and wearing. It's important that I pick back up exactly where I left off so there are no strange gaps. Setting up to continue at that point and research over details make the middle more time consuming. The end of a book always comes quickly because I've had it written in my head since before I started the first chapter. If it's a rewrite from my editor it takes hours because by the time I get them I have to review all my notes. I'm usually well into my next book by the time rewrites are sent over. The publishing business is much lengthier than people realize." He's pleasantly surprised by the information. It occurs to him that this is the most she has ever told him about her writing process.
"So, where are you in this book?" He lifts his brow in question at her.
"I'm near the beginning so it should flow rather easily. I can get a lot done in a one to two hour stint at my computer." The question he hasn't asked is if she wants to write. She isn't even sure herself. Normally she really craves a few quiet hours to get lost in her work and he's doing what she asked of him. He's trying to give her enough space to feel like she's still getting her own things accomplished.
"You can just shift gears like that? Anytime? You can just sit down and decide it's time to write and start working on your book? Don't you ever sit down and find you just can't come up with any words? You know, like writers block." They're in the car now but even though he has it started so the heat is on, they have yet to go anywhere.
"That's a difficult question to answer because there isn't any clear cut formula to writing. Sometimes I can't write because I'm tired and other times I can really produce when I haven't had sleep. The same is true for stress, some times it works for me and other times it works against me. I think every writer wishes they had some formula that would allow them to be successful every time they sit down at the keyboard. Most of us have some list of activities or rituals that we do when we get stuck to help us focus. Historically many writers have had some form of addiction that helped them to navigate through the craziness in their head."
"Are you trying to tell me that you're a closet drinker?" She pauses a moment before laughing and he realizes that it took her that long to see that he was joking.
"No, I don't understand people that can write when they're drunk or high."
"So what do you do when you have an empty page in front of you and nothing comes to you? What's your list of activities that you do to get past your writers block?"
"Well, I do whatever I can to resolve the issue that keeps me from being able to focus. If I'm tired, I sleep. If I'm stressed, I do yoga. If I'm really upset about a case, I go work out. If I'm frustrated, I masturbate. You get the idea; it's a matter of either funneling the feelings into energy to write or getting them out of the way, which ever works. It's rare that I can't write at all but if that happens there are a couple of exercises I do to help." Her cheeks have flushed pink and her eyes have left his in a nervous glance he has come to know well. His thoughts are back at the word masturbate because despite her casual delivery his brain went right to visuals.
"So, are you okay with this plan? You get some writing done and I run a couple of errands and then meet you back at your apartment for the gun range and dinner and whatever else it is you have planned." She doesn't turn to look at him but her voice is lighter, more accepting.
"Yes, it's a great plan; my editor has been prompting me for chapters for the last couple of weeks. Should I bring my gun for the range?"
"That's not a gun; it's a hand cannon so let's leave it home this time. I have several lighter guns that you should be comfortable handling. We can go to the test range so we can use one of the qualifying rooms. I like the privacy there. Some of the people you run into at the public range are just scary." She has a small smile now and is looking to the front. He recognizes that she is sliding out of whatever frustrating thought process had her pinned just a moment ago.
"Hey, I go to the public range all the time." Now she flashes an offended look in his direction.
"I'm not talking about you Bones, I'm talking about the skinny guy missing two teeth that is shaking just a tiny bit and looking like he came off a three day bender and hasn't showered yet. He scares me with a gun. You just make me nervous." He can't help it, he laughs.
"You'll pay for that Seeley Booth you know I'm a good shot." She's smiling now and looks at him in that way that makes his knees feel weak. He decides not to mention to her all the ways he would love for her to make him pay. They pull into her parking complex and he sighs heavily. He really doesn't want to leave her.
He leans over and kisses her, meaning for it to be a parting gesture but when she slides her hand up his thigh and slips her tongue between his lips it changes. He tilts his head and pulls her closer to him. He feels the movement of her as she unsnaps the seatbelt and frees herself of the restraint. Then she's there, fully against him and he can hardly think at all. Her hand curls around his neck and her fingers sink into his hair as she holds him to her. She wants to take some part of him with her but when she breaks the kiss she chastises herself for thinking like a teen aged girl. He'll be back in a couple of hours.
"Are you coming up for a few minutes?" Her breath is coming a little short as she speaks.
"If I do I won't leave and as amazing as that sounds I don't want to crowd you. I'm going to hold you to the time frame though. I'll be back in two hours so accomplish what you can because after that you're mine again for the rest of the night." She doesn't mind the boldness of his words because it takes the edge off his leaving to hear him claim her for the rest of the night. She wonders when this possessive archaic ownership conversation became attractive to her. What the hell is happening to her? She kisses him again and this time his hand cups her breast and she moans into his throat. After a moment she pulls away from him and slides back to get out of the car. As she opens the door he grabs her shoulder.
"I love you; I'll see you in a little while." She's momentarily immobilized with even the sound of the words. Her heart is pounding as she turns to look at him. His face doesn't hold any expectations, just pure emotion.
"I love you too." It's almost a whisper but she manages to give it to him, maybe because nothing about him was asking for it. She reaches up and squeezes his hand before stepping out of the truck and disappearing quickly from his sight.
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Seeley actually has a lot to accomplish in the next two hours. He wants to surprise her with something Monday when she returns to work. He's had the perfect gift idea, especially since they're keeping their relationship under wraps for the time being. He wonders if he can have it delivered to her at the Jeffersonian by Monday. Grinning he snaps open his phone and gets to work.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Temperance sheds her coat and bag and looks around her for nothing in particular. Her living room seems bigger to her today although she knows that's not possible because it's exactly the same size as it has been every other day. She shakes her head and decides this love thing has just caught her so off guard she's acting strange. She makes herself a cup of tea and goes to her study. After opening her laptop and making herself comfortable she reads a little to get herself oriented with her place in the story. Her fingertips lightly graze over the keyboard as her thoughts circle the place that she ended.
Ten minutes later she's still sitting there with her hands now tucked under her chin. There are no words on the page and this fascinates and frightens her. If she believed in psychology she may consider that it was the power of suggestion. Seeley had to bring up writers block. She considers it a type of phantom condition, believing that writing is mostly about good discipline. As she stares at the screen she wonders if she's just been lucky all this time with how easily her words have come to her. She reads the last few lines again and although she knows the direction of the chapter she isn't able to pick up the mental flow. Of course that's because all her thoughts are flowing in a different direction.
For some reason she keeps seeing him in her head the way he looked against the sky. Maybe it was the blush the cold air brought to his cheeks or the relaxed way he stood and smiled. She couldn't trace her motivation to just one of the mornings attributes, all she is sure of is that she keeps thinking of him and not her writing. She's uncomfortable with her own inability to concentrate and it causes her to feel anxious. She gets up and paces the short length of the room and thinks about how she can get her focus back. She decides on a shower, it'll help her relax and she'll still have over an hour to work. Smiling she heads to the bathroom.
Temperance starts the shower and begins to undress. As she pulls her sweater over her head she catches a scent she knows is Seeley. She resists the urge to bring the sweater back up so she can breathe the scent in again. She shakes her head and strips off the rest of her clothes and gets into the shower. She closes her eyes and does some deep breathing as the hot water pours over her. She lets the heat seep into her and immediately begins to feel herself relax. Encouraged, she finishes her shower, pausing occasionally to bask in the heat of it. After getting dressed and drying her hair she heads back to the computer, feeling optimistic.
Once again seated at her keyboard with a cup of hot tea beside her she stares at the screen. She types a few sentences to try and jump start writing but it only serves to give her a few lines without any real direction. Feeling restless within her own thoughts and on the brink of being able to pull it all together she decides to do an exercise. She puts her hands on the keys and then closes her eyes. As fast as she can, without thinking she begins to type whatever pops into her head. It takes her a moment to relax into it but after she's sure she has dumped at least a page worth of thoughts, she stops. She prints the page without looking at it and begins writing. Clearing out some of her other thoughts works like magic and she's typing away in no time.
Forty minutes later she takes a break, satisfied by having gotten herself back on track. She saves her work and marks it to edit later. Seeley's going to be back soon and she needs to get ready. She pulls the two pages off the printer from earlier and turns them over. At first she's amused by her own ramblings. She's jumping around from thoughts on work to her own mental "to do" list. Then she began reading about Seeley although she didn't actually name him she had known where her thoughts had gone. She blushes as she reads some of the lines and laughs as she reads others. She remembers less of what she wrote near the end of the page because by then she was deep into the natural existentialist flow of the exercise. It's the last phrase that catches her attention. On the top of page two the final three words read, Mrs. Seeley Booth.
Temperance freezes. She has no affiliation with the status of marriage. She has no desire to be owned in the eyes of society by a tradition that began as a way for men to claim their women as property. The government license, the religious sacrament, the legal and tax implication all mean nothing to her beyond their anthropological applications. It all brings her to three words of her own, what the fuck? She does NOT have any desire to be married and she hates psychology so the whole situation just irritates her almost beyond words. She feeds the sheets into the shredder next to her desk and feels just a skosh of satisfaction. What came of the stream of consciousness exercise was obviously garbage that her head needed to regurgitate. It had no relevance to her thoughts or her life at all.
She shuts her office door as she leaves as though containing the distasteful incident to that one area and goes about getting ready. She's just finished a light make up job and is headed out of the bathroom when she hears him knock. Her smile is spontaneous as she opens the door.
He slides his hand into her hair and kisses her without hesitation. When he pulls away she's smiling with her face flushed and her eyes bright. He brings his hand from her hair and cocks his head to the side.
"You took a shower." It's a statement more than a question.
"Oh, yes, my hair is still damp. I wanted to relax a little before writing." He would've known anyway from the amazing scent of her. A grin slowly creeps across his face.
"So did the shower work or did you have to do other activities to help?" She's staring at him for a moment before his reference hits her and he swears the color in her cheeks deepens.
"Not that it's really any of your concern but no I didn't masturbate if that's what you're asking." She knows. She knows blunt sexual conversations fluster him completely so she just chuckles when his only response is an opening and closing of his mouth without sound. She kisses him softly on the cheek and moves away to get her things. "Besides, if I had that kind of tension I could have just waited for you."
He's hard. The images, her voice, her scent and proximity have all had their tremendous effect on him. He watches her move, amazed at how graceful she is when she's relaxed. He's used to her powerful steps and precision movements that are driven with purpose while she's at work. He finds this relaxed version of her incredibly sexy. Too late he focuses on the fact she's looking at him and she clearly catches his expression. Her eyebrow lifts and her gaze drops to the bulge tightening the front of his jeans.
She steps closer and places her hand against the heat of his erection and a low moan escapes him. "Hmmm, it looks like you built up some tension while you were gone. Did you get your errands done?"
His mind struggles to focus on her words. Errands? Oh yeah, he ran his errands and everything went very smoothly. "Yes, um yes, I got everything done. How did your writing go?" He can hardly think with her hand between his legs and her fingers moving over him. She stops suddenly and he stares at her in shock at her abrupt change in mood.
"We should be going. We have time booked at the range don't we?" She turns quickly away from him and is heading to the door when he grabs her arm and gently turns her around.
"Woah, just a minute. What's going on with you?" His eyes find hers and he can see the turbulence in them.
"Nothing, I'm fine. I just thought we had to go." She glances away from him and he knows there's more.
"Temperance, did something happen while I was gone? You seem upset. Did you need more time to write?" His concern softens her.
"No, actually once I started I was productive enough. I did have some trouble settling down and getting my focus though." Her eyes shift to the side and he knows he's close to the problem.
"Once you got started did I interrupt you? Did you feel like you needed more time?" He squints at her just a little and she knows this is the look he gets when he's trying to work his way through a puzzling situation.
"Seeley, let's drop it. I'm fine, I really am. I didn't need any more time, my work can just be frustrating sometimes and that's all." Her voice has an undertone of pleading to it and he decides not to push her. Whatever left her so uncomfortable she'll discuss it with him when she's ready. If he's learned one thing about her over the years it's that when she's pressured she reacts by digging her heels in and not giving an inch. He certainly doesn't want to mess this up by turning into some kind of worrying hound.
"Okay, consider it dropped. We should get going if we're going to make our time. I had them book us in a training and qualifying room so we have a two lane range to ourselves." He can see her shoulders dip as she relaxes and sighs softly, obviously relieved at the change in conversation.
"So how many guns did you bring?" Her smile appears as they leave and behind her he shakes his head.
"Four and if you're nice to me I'll let you try them all." She laughs and speaks to him over her shoulder.
"I think I've been very nice to you in the last few days." Her voice is practically purring and he blushes once again. If she keeps popping up with these sexual statements he's never going to be able to keep his pants from popping up in response to her.
He opens the car door and gives her his best grin. "Well I can't really argue with that."
She rolls her eyes, "finally, something that you can't argue over with me. Maybe we should talk about sex all the time." He closes her door and laughs as he walks around the vehicle thinking about how sure he is that she will eventually be the death of him.
Once at the range she sees him hand his badge, I.D. and an envelope to the man behind the counter. The guy looks shifty even to her so she wonders what he's doing in a government managed facility. He shakes Seeley's hand and she realizes that they're friends on some level. Seeley nods in her direction and she walks over to him.
"Dr. Temperance Brennan this is Patrick O'Shey." They shake hands briefly and now that she's closer the word that comes into her mind is cad. He has the kind of dark good look that teeter between slippery and sexy.
"It's nice to meet you." She smiles politely and he flashes an impressive dimpled grin that makes him look painfully charming. She has a feeling he gets through a lot in life with that smile.
"It's nice to meet you too. Seeley has mentioned you a few times but you don't do your photos justice."
"Seeley has shown you photos of me?" Her surprise is apparent.
He laughs and notes the tone of her voice. "No, no, your books. I've seen your photo inside the cover of your books but as a famous author and legendary anthropologist surely you know that people are aware of who you are?" He tilts his head and a dark lock falls across his forehead.
"No actually I'm not aware of any such thing. I am however, certain that you are the only person I've ever met that has referred to me as legendary. I'm not sure whether to be complimented by the fame aspect of the term or be insulted by the fictional implication." She doesn't break a smile, just looks at him with that curious expression she wears when confronted with something unfamiliar.
"Trust me when I tell you my intention was purely complimentary." The smile shows again and she feels Booth's hand slide around her waist in a move that feels both protective and territorial.
"Okay Patrick, reel it in." Booth's voice is casual but she can feel him shift beside her.
"Well Booth you of all people can't blame me. She's a very beautiful woman." He's speaking to Seeley but looking directly at her. Something about the way he speaks makes her feel like he's toying with her and she doesn't like it.
"Seeley I guess that makes you one very lucky man." With those words she takes Seeley's hand and turns toward the door to the ranges. She can't see the surprised expression on his face. Normally she would never engage in a struggle between two men that she feels is based solely on ego but being referred to in the third person when she was standing right there put her over the edge.
Behind them she hears Patrick whistle before he comments. "Touché Dr. Brennan."
Seeley isn't completely sure what happened but he knows this would not be the time to tell her how he thinks that Patrick is really a good guy. He just takes a little getting used to before you understand him. They pass into a long hall and walk down to the last door. He unlocks it with a key attached to an F.B.I. emblem and holds the heavy door for her to enter. Once inside he sets his duffle bag on the small table to the left and begins unpacking. He hands her a headset to protect her ears and puts on one of his own. He's in business mode as he prepares the guns. He loads a nice stainless steel 357 revolver for her and then fills several clips for the 9mm guns. She watches his hands move quickly through the process, his thumb calloused from the repetitive motion of loading clips. She blushes a little as she recalls the moment she first noticed the heavy callous on that thumb. He was using it to caress her breast at the time. It had caused a chill of arousal to rush across her skin and tighten her nipples just as the memory is doing now.
When he's finished loading he sets the guns in a row, pointing away from them. He notes the shine to her eyes and chuckles to himself. She's a bit of a gun junkie and in any other woman he would find it frightening. In her he finds it disturbingly sexy. He stops to consider the possibility that he finds everything about her sexy and ends up laughing at himself.
"What is so funny?" He does what he has recently learned to do when he doesn't have an answer for her, he kisses her.
"Nothing really. I was just laughing at myself." He turns to the lanes and presses a button that moves the floating targets to different distances and hands Temperance the revolver. She tests the weight of it in her hand and he's impressed with her willingness to take her time. When she sights the target he observes her stance, although she's a little stiff, she has it right. Her shots ring out in a steady thundering blast. He should have loaded her gun with recycled 38's, it wouldn't have been so loud. She squints at her target where her marks are closely clustered at the center and an amazing smile graces her lips.
"Not bad Bones, not bad." She rolls her eyes and turns to the table to reload.
"If you think you can do better maybe we should put a little wager on it." Her eyes are lit with amusement when she turns to look at him. She has no idea that at this moment he would give her anything for making him feel this good.
"What did you have in mind?" His words are slow and his voice has dropped so she can barely hear him through her head set.
"The winner gets to have a sexual fantasy fulfilled and the loser has to tell at least three people that know us both that the other one is a better shot." He can't help it, he bursts out laughing.
"You have a bet. We'll do the best total shots out of three rounds of 8 shots. You can use the gun of your choice and shoot in any style you like." He's still chuckling as she walks over and looks at the available guns. After lifting and examining them all she returns to the revolver knowing that it won't jam on her. He feels his balls tighten and an erection begin as he thinks about winning a sexual fantasy from her. Hell, he'd gladly tell everyone he knew she was a better shot as long as he still got to collect on the rest of the wager. He motions her toward the counter. "Ladies first."
She widens her stance by just a half step and takes a few deep breaths to calm and center herself. She lines up the target in her sight and squeezes off the first two rounds. Both of them hit perfectly inside the dark bulls eye circle. She rocks a second on her feet but doesn't move them as she shoots off two more. Her third shot hits inside the ring but the fourth splits the edge.
"Shit!" She flexes her shoulder and relaxes back into position then suddenly fires off the last four shots. Two are inside, another sits on the border and one is clearly in the second ring. It's a great cluster for anyone but she's not happy. She wanted them all inside. He can tell by the way her spine has become rigid that he should give her a moment. She turns to the table and snaps open the cylinder, drops the shells into a can and efficiently reloads the gun. Pressing the safety she sets the gun down and turns to him. "Okay, you're up next."
Seeley pulls his gun and lets it dangle loosely from his hand down at his side. He turns away from the target in the second lane and hones his mental focus. In a flash of movement he spins and lifts his arm, firing off eight shots without a second's hesitation. The first exploding sound makes her jump and she thinks she can feel the vibration from the force of it in the air. In the echoing silence that follows all she hears is the tinkling of metal as his expelled casings bounce and roll on the grey painted concrete floor. A wisp of smoke trails off the back of his gun and she watches his body adjust and relax as he turns toward her.
She turns immediately to look at his target. She's trying to focus but the rush of wetness between her legs from watching him has her off kilter. She didn't expect to be so aroused but he was so graceful and powerful in that moment that it just overwhelmed her. She feels him behind her.
"Well Bones it looks like I took that round." She knows he's smiling but she can't turn because she can feel the heat pouring off her neck and breast. The target is clean, all eight shots having drilled the center circle. She crosses her arms to stall the shiver that is spreading from the base of her spine.
"It's not over yet." It comes out softer than she intended and she clears her throat as she moves to pick up her gun. She closes her eyes and tries desperately to take a deep breath. The scent of cordite is thick in the air prompting the memory of how he looked. She opens her eyes again and stares at the target. She slips the safety and sets her stance, fighting the urge to press her thighs together instead. She fires off the first two and both of them are in the second ring and to the left of the target. Still determined she shoots off the next six without stopping. Four hit the center and two straddle the right side of the line. She doesn't comment this time and he assumes she's upset as she reloads and replaces her gun.
She turns in time to see him add some bullets to his clip before dropping the gun to dangle at his side once again. She realizes that she's holding her breath and parts her lips to softly exhale in the stillness. She hasn't taken her eyes off him, knowing now how fast he moves she doesn't want to miss it. The heat trickles into her belly in anticipation of his movement but she still jumps when he spins and the blasts thunder through the room, through her bones. She took more of it in this time. Her body trembles. She wishes that she had some way to capture the moment in some tangible way. Not only the moment but how it makes her feel. She doesn't consider herself as a creative person despite her writing but she knows that it's witnessing something like this that feeds an artist's inspiration. Of course right now it's also feeding something else. She steps back and feels the slippery wetness between her legs. Her nipples are hard points pressing into the silky material of her bra.
Seeley has reloaded his clip and set his gun down. He placed seven of his eight shots in the center and one at the edge. She knew he was good but his accuracy is astonishing. She'll have to make her next eight shots and he'll have to miss all of his for her to win this thing. She doesn't even care. Her thoughts are focused on getting his hands on her. She pulls her pride together and lifts her gun. She's surprised that he isn't badgering her about how he's winning, unless he's waiting until it's over. She takes her stance and fires her first shot, hitting the border and effectively making it impossible for her to beat him. She sighs heavily and drops her head when she hears his voice against her ear.
"Can I give you a pointer?" He doesn't want to offend her but he knows what would help. Her first instinct is to say no but she is filled with the scent of him as she inhales and the warmth of him presses lightly against her back.
"Yes." Her voice betrays her with its softness. He presses himself more fully against the back of her, sliding his knee between her legs and nudging her left leg out just a couple of inches.
"You tend to shift your center of gravity a little to the right which makes your hand turn just slightly to compensate. It leaves your hand just a little unsteady because you pull to one side to correct it. It's easier to correct it from the foundation, by moving the left foot out a little your balance shifts back to the center and your shot should be straighter." His dick is already rock hard behind her. He hears her sigh heavily and wonders if he has frustrated her with his correction. She sets her gun down but doesn't move away from him. Instead her hand comes back and takes his and brings it around to the front of her. She presses herself against him and a small sound escapes her lips.
He's confused when she puts down the gun and it takes him a second more to catch up when she leans against him and brings his hand to the front of her. He thinks she's going to have him steady her when she shoots. He thinks she's torturing him because she can feel his erection nudging her. When he feels her guide his hand under the edge of her sweater to the smooth skin of her abdomen he gasps. His breath is now hot against her ear and neck and the quick rise of his chest prompts her to continue. He feels her other hand brush against his knuckles as he absorbs the sound of her zipper going down. He tips his hips into her and a low moan strains from her chest. She guides his hand down into her underwear and pushes his fingers between her folds. The burning slick heat of her gathers around his fingers as the silky wet material of her underwear clings to the back of his hand.
"Jesus Christ Temperance." The words hiss from his lips in surprise. She eases her hand back up his arm and lets him take over. His other hand moves under her sweater from the other side and comes up to cup her breast. Even through her bra he can feel the hard pebble of her nipple tight with arousal in his palm. He pinches the bud and her cry echoes through the room, her hips jerk back into him. She tilts her head back onto his shoulder and nuzzles her face in his neck where her lips seek the taste of him. Her hands come around between them and quickly undo his jeans, pushing them away from him as she slips her hand inside. She wraps her long fingers around the thickness of him and pumps him into her fist. He growls softly and arches his spine. His fingers sink into her molten depths, her muscles grasping around them. She has managed to push his jeans down enough to free him but he's afraid if she keeps squeezing him he's going to come without her.
"Push your jeans down for me Temperance." His voice is deep, dragged through desire and whispering over her skin. His hand has slipped into her bra and scooped her breast from its confines. His fingers knead her soft flesh and tug her nipple as she whimpers and scrambles to push her jeans and underwear down over her hips. The second his hand is free to move between her legs he begins to pump frantically. She cries out and arches forward her hands falling to grip the counter. He pulls his fingers from within her and moves that hand to her breast where he spreads her slick juice over her nipple as he rolls it in his fingers. His other hand guides his erection between her legs. Her hips tilt back toward him and her moan gets louder as the head of him brushes along the back of her thigh. The ache within her is pulsing with need. He rocks slightly and plunges himself into her. She's pleading with him to go, whimpers punctuating her words. She's soaking wet, her moisture molten hot as it seeps down onto his balls. Her walls clench around him so hard he presses deeper into her to keep from being pushed out. He desperately wants to make this feeling last, these amazing few seconds when he first enters her.
His breath is rasping against her neck as he pulls out and before she can protest his thick shaft has thrust back, stretching her walls and plunging impossibly deep. She slams her hips back to him, the moaning is a steady sound twisted within her panting breaths. He lunges again, and again, and again, picking up a pounding rhythm that drives her higher and higher. He squeezes her nipple tightly, almost brutally before dropping his hand to her other hip so he can slam her back against him as he rocks into her. Their bodies smack rapidly, his balls and belly striking her with each hard thrust. He looks down and watches his body hammering into her and begins calling to god, to her. Her nails dig into the wood counter, her back bowing as her orgasm crests and then crashes within her. He can barely hold on to her jerking hips as he rams into her seizing depths and erupts inside her. Her body is fisting around him in erratic spasms as she cries his name into the room. He continues to pump behind her, his motion almost a blur. She wreathes and tightens as a second wave shatters her completely. Her thighs and back lock tightly and she suddenly reaches back and grabs his hips to hold him tightly against her. He can feel her contracting around him so hard his penis twitches with a hint of pain. He takes a sharp breath just as she begins to calm, her body trying to relax despite the uncontrolled jerking within her.
The room is filled with the sound of their bodies gasping for air. She holds onto the counter again, this time to keep from falling over. She feels him ease out of her swollen walls and a rush of wetness trickles down her thigh as her muscles continue to softly contract. He pulls up his jeans and reaches for a towel from his bag, gently wiping her thighs in an act that feels as intimate to her as the one they just finished. She closes her eyes as he pulls her underwear and jeans up over her hips and slips his hand under her shirt to repair her bra. He turns her around and pulls her against him, folding his arms around her. Her fists clutch his sweater, holding on as they both try to settle themselves down. She smiles into his chest, constantly astounded by how satisfying sex is with him no matter what the mood. This time it was quick, powerful and completely satisfying.
"Where did all that come from?" He wondered in those first moments if it was his tutorial, firing her gun or the competition that had aroused her so completely. Whatever it was he wanted to know so he could do it again. At least on another day because right now his leg is trembling and even if she put the gun to his head he didn't think he could do it again.
"I've seen you fire your gun before but I've never really watched you shoot. It was so graceful and…well, so sexy." With her face flushed and eyes shining from their activities he can't tell if the admission causes her to blush. He tips up her chin and kisses her gently.
"We should come to the range more often." He deadpans his answer but she knows he's smiling. A deep chuckle bubbles up from within her.
"If we do neither one of us will ever qualify to be licensed again. Look how bad my aim is when I'm distracted." She waits and he can feel her laughter.
"Oh, now you're saying you lost the bet because I distracted you by taking my turn. That's convenient but a bet is a bet and you clearly lost this one. I'm already going through my fantasies deciding which one I'm going to request as my prize." She looks up at him with a wicked grin on her face.
"You know I can't remember ever feeling this good after loosing a bet or this excited about paying the debt." His deep laughter bounces through the space of the room.
"You're excited about going around and telling three people that know us both that I'm a better shot?" There's a glint in his eye as he teases her and she rolls her eyes at him but she's learned how to play these games with him so she leans forward and whispers in his ear.
"No Seeley I'm excited about a night of being sexually at your mercy." She has the satisfaction of hearing him gasp. Laughing softly she zips up her jeans and turns back to the counter. His are still hanging loosely on his hips. "Do up your pants Seeley and let's finish target practice." He's glad he's already won the bet because at the moment he's pretty sure he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn.