Bruises ? Luke Hemmings a.u

Eight.

How can he drive my body this crazy when he's not ever here? 

Without giving it a second thought, I drop the pillow I was holding and I unbutton my school shirt, letting it flow to his soft, thick carpet, and I slip his band shirt over my body, my nostrils instantly hit with his scent.

The bottom of the shirt bunches awkwardly against my school skirt, so off that goes too,  and suddenly I realise that I am stood in his bedroom in just his shirt and my see through lace underwear.

His shirt hugs me in a way I wish he would, and without thinking about it, I slip beneath his soft duvet, laying myself in the middle of his huge bed.

The mattress is so soft, I sink into it, and my imagination creates images of him inside of me, the weight of him above me pushing my hips further into the mattress.

My body aches for him, so much it's almost painful. I'm covered in his scent and my head goes wild.

Luke.

He drives me crazy. The heart beat between my thighs is so intense, I need to ease the ache.

My hand glides down my body, wishing it was his hand tracing my skin instead as my fingers dip underneath the thin lace of my underwear, meeting the heat of my desire for him there.

My fingers rub gently, in small circles, my eyes closed, my head full of nothing but thoughts of him.

Him panting, him sweating. Him pulling at himself as he watches me touch myself in his bed, beneath his heavy duvet.

I know he's big, I've felt him through his work trousers, and I can't help but yearn for him to be inside me.

The image of it makes me moan aloud.

With that thought, my fingers dip lower, tracing my delegate skin, feeling the slick desire that I have for him, before they slip inside of myself, and I let out a small gasp.

I've touched myself before, many times, but this is so much more intense.

My whole body clenches. My imagination running wild, thinking about Luke inside of me. Him on top of me. Him thrusting into me. His broad shoulders hovering above my own. The heat of his skin. The taste of his sweat.

The heel of my palm rubs my clit as my fingers stroke inside of myself.

I'm so wet, so turned on by the mere thought of him. My body trembles as my fingers stroke fast, my palm rubbing in quick circles as I do.

I can feel the pleasure building, building, building. My tummy clenches, I'm so wet, so warm, surrounded by his scent.

Sweat builds across my forehead, my hips bucking at my own touch. My thighs shake and my toes begin to curl.

All I can smell is him. All I can think of is him.

My hand moves faster, faster.

"Oh fuck," I moan, my eyes clenching tight.

It feels so good. I'm in his bed, between his sheets. My dig further into his soft mattress, the pleasure building and building. It has never felt this good.

"Oh god," I breathe, seeing nothing but images of him naked, thrusting hard inside of me, images of him flooding my mind.

My breast bounce with the movements of my bucking hips, my nipples brushing against his shirt I'm wearing, only intensifying my pleasure.

"Oh fuck, Luke," I moan, my chest rising and falling, breathless.

My pleasure building so high, the only place else to go is down.