Bruises ? Luke Hemmings a.u

Eight.

My hips buck one last time, my fingers pushing so deep inside of myself, my palm circling so hard for one last time, my breath haltering, and I come at the thought of him. Images of him in all situations filthy.

My hand slows, my breathing steadies, and my body begins to still. My skin is glistening with my sweat, my body so warm under his thick duvet.

"Helen?"

My body jumps at the unexpected sound, my eyes darting open, looking for the source.

Luke stands in the doorway of his bedroom, his face expressionless.

I sit up right so fast, "Luke, I..."

"What are you doing in here?" He says, his voice dark. 

"Nothing,"

His eyes are piercing. It's dusk outside, darkening his already dark bedroom, but I can see him perfectly.

He steps into his bedroom until he's at the foot of his bed.

I wipe the stray hairs that have stuck to my forehead with the dampness of my sweat. My cheeks are flushed from my orgasm, but I can feel the redness build even more.

How much did he see? Oh fuck, did he hear me?

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask him, my voice quiet, hoping to hide the embarrassment just enough.

"Long enough," he says, and my eyes widen.

He knows. He knows what I've been doing in here. He knows I said his name out loud as I came, he knows I was thinking about him.

"You left," I say, but it's so quiet, I don't think he can hear me.

"I forgot my briefcase," he explains, and I try to avoid his gaze, looking down in embarrassment instead.

My gaze meets his chest in his tight shirt, down to the expensive leather belt at the waist of his work trousers, and only then do I see him bulging through the material of his trousers.

Is he hard?

Looking back up, I realise his chest is rising and falling fast.

"Helen," he says, though his voice is shaky. My eyes meet his, the blue so dark. "You said my name."

I gulp. I pull the duvet up myself further, trying to hide from his gaze.

"Don't hide from me," he says, his voice stern as he pulls the duvet from my body. His eyes are looking into mine, before his gaze travels down my body, lingering on my breasts, my hard nipples showing through his shirt I'm wearing, down to my skimpy under, wet with my desire for him.

His breath hitches.

He's stood, but bent over the bed, his weight resting on his palms that are sinking into the mattress.

His head hovers over my hips, his gaze on my underwear, the lace leaving nothing to the imagination, and I know he can see the strip of hair I let grow there.

Hooded eyes, roam back up my body before meeting my gaze.

I'm embarrassed. So embarrassed of what he saw me do to myself, of the moans, the sounds and his name that slipped from my lips when I came from my own touch, thinking about him inside of me.

But right now, with him looking at me this way, it's hard for the feeling of embarrassment to retain, as it leaves my body, leaving nothing but more want for this man.

"You moaned my name," he says this time. His eyes clench tightly as his hands fist the fitted sheet beneath me, his knuckles turning white.

He takes a deep breath, then releases it with a heavy sigh. Jaw now clenched, his eyes open, meeting mine as he stands back up, looking down at me.

His face has softened, "I understand given your age that,"

"Please don't," I interrupt.

He bites his bottom lip, before replying "I know you're sexually active, I understand that, but please keep this behaviour within your own space, okay?" He finishes, now avoiding my gaze as if he's just as embarrassed as I am.

Pushing his hair back with a sigh, he shakes his head, then begins to look around his room until he spots the sleek black leather of his brief case by his bedroom door.

How could I have missed that? He never goes to work without it.

Picking up his brief case he says, "We should probably discuss this... when I'm back."

Without thinking, I blurt "You liked it."

His eyes narrow, now meeting my gaze again. "I'm sorry?"

Why the fuck would I say that? What is wrong with me?

I shake my head. "Nothing, I just..." my eyes involuntarily travel down to the evident bulge pressing against his work trousers.

Following my gaze, he quickly adjusts himself, though it doesn't do much to hide his arousal.

"Then I guess we're talking about this now," he says before his lips form a tight line. He digs into the pocket of his blazer for his phone. "I guess I'll tell work my car has broken down," he says, before placing down his briefcase and leaving me in his bedroom while he makes the call.