Title: Brown Skirt and Leather Seat
Summary: She was wearing that skirt. Again.
She was wearing that skirt. Again. Brown skirt, knee length with high-heeled boots, showing off too little skin and allowing imagination to take its course and turning it into a fantasy. The skirt that would rise up just a little bit as she sat on the sofa, crossing her legs and the fabric fell off slightly, allowing a brief view of her thighs. But just a brief view, she was fast to cover it up again.
He pretended to pay attention to what she said in the car, as they were driving off somewhere he couldn't even remember and the images of his reverie would haunt his imagination once again. The thoughts of his hand on her knee, making her uncross her legs slowly, drawing them apart slightly, just enough so he could explore her skin a little bit; his hand pulled up the fabric exposing the glorious flesh of her knee and that would make her thighs would quiver slenderly, just enough for him to notice the antecipation she also felt, not even remotedely close to what he felt himself.
His face was still staring intently at the road, as he drove to their destination, in some distant and sunny road while his fingers seemed to have found a more interesting path. They circled a trail around her knee, so soft and delicate, promising even more delicate skin to follow after, her thighs.
In one fast move he pulled off the road, carelessly throwing the car onto the curb and turned to face her, not even bothering to turn off the engine. She looked breathless, flushed, her mouth slightly opened and eyes huge, not from the surprise of him touching her but from the intensity of his soft fingers against her incredibly soft skin. He looked down at her, finally being able to see more than his imagination had told him, kneading her flesh, moving up her leg. His hand was now dangerously close to her center and he felt her moving down on the seat and opening up further to him. The sounds of her enjoying it as much as he was were audible now, harsh breaths coming out in loud gasps and pants.
He couldn't decide weather he wanted to stare at the pale skin of her thigh or the flushness of her cheeks; bright eyes were now fluttering, fighting off the urge to remain closed and instead she forced herself to look at his face. Little did he know that he was also flushed as well, as his mind worked hard to touch her as lighty as he had dreamt on in the first place.
When his index finger finally, finally made the first contact with the fabric of her underwear she nearly jumped. He rubbed a slow circle against her, pressing slightly further as she threw her head back against the seat, eyes closed and panting. He couldn't help the smile appearing on his face.
Passing through the hem of her underwear, those fingers soflty brushed against her hairs and soon were coated with her juices, touching her between the legs. He felt a thrill of excitment, like a little boy who's discovered a hidden jar of candies. He ran a finger against her folds and then pushed into her, making her gasp loudly. He saw her biting her lower lips so hard, to keep from screaming. Too bad, he wanted to hear her scream his name as she came against his hand. She grabbed the sides of her seat, so tightly, her knuckles got white; her legs tensed up and her breathing was coming out in ragged pants.
A wicked smile spread across his lips as he pushed fingers in and out of her, rubbing, slippery friction in and out and around her core, her muscles tensing up against his fingers and she pushed her hips, to increase the sensation and to speed him up. Not now, he wanted to take his time, to enjoy the coarseness of the pure desire that lavished her and seemed to not only fill the car and pour out of her mouth in harsh gasps and moans; she wouldn't beg or ask. In fact, she wouldn't say anything if he weren't the first to speak and coax her. Instead, she just indulged into the silence and into his wishes to experiment with her body, tethering her at the edge of an orgasm.
He saw it on her face, on the white knuckles that seemed to be nearly ripping the leather of the car seat and the rhythmically pushing of her hips against him; she could've stopped him at any moment now, push his hand away and slap him or even glare at him for crossing that line, but she didn't. She enjoyed being at his mercy like this.
She screamed loudly when another finger touched her clit, sending through her body an aching sensation that culminated in an orgasm that made her quiver and close her eyes shut, tightening against his fingers. He chuckled lightly at the sight of her, so vulnerable and beautiful and sinful, with flushed face and messy hair, aftershocks running through her body as he continued to stroke her lightly, just because.
Booth waited for her to open her eyes and stare at him to remove his fingers from between Brennan's legs and lick them clean off her juices. A look of odd curiosity on her face as she watched him through heavy eyelids, running her tongue on her lips, as if mimicking his gesture. He couldn't resist the urge to touch her again and ran the same fingers on her lower lip, pressing harder than necessary.
With no further delay, he turned straight again and drove off the curb, continuing their journey towards another case to be solved.