18. do you like this?

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I wake up the next morning in a cocoon of blankets, pillows, and Luke's arms; on the couch of his living room, with the TV on standby right on front of us. There's an empty pizza box on the table, and popcorn all over the floor.

To some, it might just look like a messy night in. But to me, it's the aftermath of one of the best nights I've ever had in my life; no doubt about it.

Sighing happily to myself, I get up, being careful not to wake him with the littlest movement I make.

After doing my best to brush the popcorn crumbs off of the rug, I dump them into the pizza box before taking the whole thing, walking into the kitchen, and shoving it in the bin.

The sun outside is bright, and it creates little reflections on the intricate marbled detail of the island. I pick up on this now because I didn't have the time to admire it last night.

The metal handles gleam at me as I yawn, suddenly making this whole situation seem surreal and straight out of a fairytale picture book. Not that I'm complaining.

The silence gives me some time to think, and I feel like I haven't had a whole lot of those lately. These past couple of days have been nothing but important events in my life taking place; the time to sit and think and contemplate just hasn't been made readily available to me.

It's no surprise that I've ditched my plan altogether of getting Luke to leave me alone- this is a fact. I think I ditched it as soon as I heard his voice in real life. Again, Im really not complaining.

The best thing to do right now would be to let things go, and see where that takes me; I've been free-falling the entirety of my life, anyway. I'm pretty sure I'm capable of handling this one, too.

And if I find out in the end that I'm not, if I'm not cut out to deal with this, then it's a lesson well learned. Only I'm hoping, and practically praying, for things to work out; I like Luke, I really do. I just need to know as to what extent. And I just hope that he can feel the same way about me.

Shaking my head, I wash my hands quickly to rid them of crumbs, before leaning against the sink and looking out of the window. Luke's terrace stretches from the living room to the sliding doors of the kitchen, allowing a perfect breeze to enter all corners of the house if one's left open.

Instead of walking out, however, I decide to go back in.

I get to the living room and Luke's sprawled out across the couch, rubbing his eyes tiredly before squinting in my direction in the sunlight. He sees me, and his lips turn upwards.

"Morning," I smile, walking towards one of the blinds and cracking it the slightest bit open.

"Morning, babe." he rasps, before attempting to sit up. His shoulders are so broad, and he's so tall, that he doesn't have to do much. "What time is it?"

"Eight," I say, sitting next to him on the other side of the couch.

I don't know why I'm surprised when he reaches forward, snakes his arms around my waist, and pulls me in towards him; resting my frame comfortably between his legs.

Luke leans back, gently taking me with him. "Mm," he mumbles, and I can practically feel his eyes fluttering shut again. "Much better."

"You're so lazy," I chuckle lightly, and I feel the vibrations in his chest as he does the same. "Come on, get up."

"I don't wanna," he lets out a soft groan as I shift, trying to get comfortable even though all I really want to do is get him to stand up.

I feel his hands lock on my waist, abruptly stopping my awkward movements.

"Sophie," he murmurs, eyes still closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

I frown. "What?"

"You're giving me a headache."

I look back at him, and upon seeing that he's more than alright, decide to ignore his strained statement.

"Oh, shut up. You're fine," I roll my eyes, still attempting to get in a less uncomfortable position when Luke's breath hitches and his hand shoots forward; the result being, him having to physically grip my thigh in order to get me to stop moving.

"N-not that head," he gulps, loosening his grip.

My cheeks burn a bright red, heating up at his words. Oh. I think. head.

I don't know whether to feel embarrassed, flattered, or turned on; either way, I think I just gave Luke Hemmings a boner. Not exactly the best thing to brag about, but that's not what I'm worried about right now.

"Oh. I-I'm sorry," I blush, about to get off.

But Luke just holds onto me, probably even tighter than before. His hands go down to the sides of my legs and he lets out a slow, shallow breath.

"It's okay, doll," he whispers, and I have to keep all of the obscene thoughts that rush through my head tamed. "You don't have to go,"

I feel my face reddens even more, if that's even possible. "But I thought I was... you know-"

"Never said it was a bad thing, did I?" he smirks, trailing his tongue across his bottom lip. I find myself gulping, wanting nothing more than to lean over and smash my lips against his.

You could, you know. Lean forward, and kiss him. You don't have to hold yourself back anymore.

Though I know that what the voice inside of my head is saying is true, I can't bring myself to do it. It seems too soon, but it also doesn't. It seems too forward, but not.

It seems too complicated, but it's also so simple. "Wanna know something, Soph?"

I don't notice how hard I'm clenching my legs together until Luke speaks, and once I've caught up to his words, I nod.

"Sure," I clear my throat, trying to shake off the fact that I was just daydreaming about his lips a couple seconds before.

"I've always loved the sort of stuff you wear on your Instagram," Luke starts, and my heart flips as his hand begins to play with the white drawstring of my grey shorts.

"This, however..." he says, his voice trailing into a chuckle.

"...I think I like this better."

"Y-You do?" I ask him, all of a sudden shy and at a complete loss for things to say. "That's good to know,"

"Oh yeah?" he grins, but even that looks like a smug smirk. "How come?"

"I might wear stuff like this more often," I say, shyly. Luke nods in what I assume is approval.

Look at you. Acting like Daddy's little girl already, and he didn't even have to try.

"Do it, baby." his thumb dips beneath my waistband, causing my heart to feel as if it's being bounced off of one ribcage to another. "Wanna know something else?"

I nod.

"I love this shirt on you," Luke whispers.

"It's... it's my favourite," I manage to stammer out, looking down at the simple red, grey and black design.

I don't remember exactly where I got it, but there's a red Rolling Stones tongue printed on the front and I'm suddenly having very vivid imaginations of it being replaced by Luke's.

"Well, it makes you look very pretty, princess."

Princess. Oh my- P r i n c e s s.

A giant meteor could hit earth right now, and I would not care. I'd probably enter the gates of hell with a fucking smile on my face if it ever came to it.

My attention is soon taken by Luke's fingers, and how they're gently massaging my inner thigh. The feeling of his warm hand makes me inhale a sharp breath, fearing that if I relax against him, he'll know just how worked up I am.

"Do you like this, Soph?" he asks me, his mouth right next to my ear; voice the perfect, sultry-sounding volume. I nod, biting my lip.

"Y-Yes,"

"Would you mind if I went a little further?"

"No," I gulp, his touch practically spiralling me out of whatever control I have over myself. "Oh, god, no. I wouldn't mind,"

I expect him to rip his hand away, to tease me even more by standing up and picking up where I left off earlier; but he doesn't.

He keeps his hands where they are, and it's his mouth that moves.

First, he places a delicate kiss on my neck; soft, warm lips pressing up against my skin. It's both pleasurable and exciting, forming one odd yet wonderful mixture of complete bliss.

Luke's thumb then begins to trace circles on my thigh, each and every one reaching dangerously close to a place I want him to touch more than anything.

"On one condition," he mutters. My shoulders slump slightly, a little irritated that he's dragging this on.

I wait patiently, feeling the suspense starting at the pit of my stomach like some fire at a campsite.

I don't know what it is I'm expecting, exactly, but my knees grow weak and I feel a little lightheaded as he parts his mouth to speak again.

"Call me Daddy, babygirl," Luke murmurs. A raspy chuckle follows soon after, the rough sound coated in pure confidence. "And I'll do anything you want."

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