Kiss Me Imagines ✔

Photoshoot - Luke Hemmings - Part 1

Part 1 - Mature

“See Y/N later, Y/N!”

Y/N glanced up from her desk and gave a half-hearted wave to her co-workers who flocked to the elevator at the end of the hall. The clock read 5:30 p.m., but Y/N had more work to do before she felt comfortable leaving. She wanted to go over the proofs from her latest photoshoot and prepare a sample layout before allowing herself a night off at home in comfy sweats with a glass of red wine in her hand and Buttercup, her yellow tabby, curled up in her lap.

The elevator dinged as the doors closed and a thick silence settled over the floor. She sorted through the paperwork on her desk in an attempt to tidy her workspace and waited for the incoming alert from her email account. The film developers promised to have them to her by 6:00 p.m., but she was hoping they were a few minutes ahead of schedule.

At 5:45 p.m., the overhead lights dimmed automatically and Y/n sighed in relief. The florescent panels cast a horrific glare on her workspace and she wished she could control how many of them came on in her office during the day. Thankfully, the slight tint on the glass wall of her enclosed space shielded her from the artificial gleam that blanketed the area where the rest of the magazine’s employees worked.

With her desk in order, she picked up her travel mug of coffee and took a deep draw. Her eyes were tired, but she had no intention of complaining. She knew how lucky she was to have been given a job as a lead photographer with GQ when she was still relatively young... She’d turned 25 just a few weeks ago in early May. She’d made it big long before a number of her fellow photography majors who were every bit as talented as her.

The familiar ping came from her computer, and she clicked on the incoming message. Giving it a quick glance, she frowned when she realized there were no attachments. Apparently, the department had sent hard copies and the email asked if they’d been delivered.

Sifting through her desk’s inbox, she found a manila envelope she’d thought was an old project and opened it to find a quarter inch thick stack of proofs with a handwritten note on a sheet of GQ letterhead.

“Every single shot was great!” the note said with a smaller, “This guy knows how to smolder,” at the bottom of the page.

Y/N smiled and pulled the paper clip from the stack. Reclining in her chair, she propped her feet on the desk and observed her work from the photoshoot she’d shot earlier that week with Luke Hemmings, one of the youngest and most successful music marketing agents in the LA metropolitan area. At the young age of 26, he’d risen through the ranks of minor league soccer teams to work for the LA Galaxy as the head marketing executive. It was his job to make sure no major PR scandals rocked the organization and to drum up interest in the music. He was innovative and smart and he’d driven up profits during his three-year campaign.

To be fair, Y/N wasn’t much of a Punk Music fan, but she did admire Nivana, and Luke Hemmings was the one responsible for capitalizing on his career with the Galaxy as a marketing ploy to keep interest in the team at an all-time high. Somehow, the marketing exec convinced the Brit to remain connected to the industry after his retirement in 2012 and his return to his home country.

Luke’s résumé impressed Y/N, a successful woman in her own right. He hadn’t seemed a bit intimidated by her during the shoot, which wasn’t necessarily something she always encountered. Her love life wasn’t as thriving as most people assumed it was because a number of men seemed to be scared of her connections and business-like attitude. She didn’t have time to play games, so she called men on their bullshit before it could get out of hand. Several men had fled in terror at her bluntness. Luke didn’t seem the type to scare easily, nor did he give her anything but straightforward and honest answers when she asked questions. He’d followed her directions without protesting, which indicated he trusted her expertise.

She appreciated that about him.

As much as she respected his attitude, she realized she enjoyed his looks just as much as she glanced through the proofs. The first several pages were filled with shots of him sporting a three piece tailored Armani suit with the softest pale blue dress shirt underneath. The suit itself was charcoal black with the faintest hint of silver pinstripes that were emphasized by the blue in the shirt. The tie he wore was a deep blue with black swirls and tucked into the cut of his vest. The three metallic buttons reflected the same silver as the pinstripes.

Y/N bit into her bottom lip as she allowed her gaze to roam across his body and take in his presence on the pages. He filled out his jacket nicely—broad shoulders topped a trim torso that tapered down to his waist in a V. His hips were slim, but he had thick thighs that strained in all the right places against the seams of his trousers. As she flipped the page, she surveyed several shots she’d taken when he turned his back and glanced over his shoulder at her. His backside curved deliciously in the pictures in which he had his jacket slung over his shoulder.

She breathed in shakily and grabbed her travel mug again. She needed something to calm her down, but the caffeine didn’t seem to be helping. Reaching into the purse she had stashed in her bottom drawer, she grabbed the miniature bottle of whiskey she’d hidden in a compartment when she returned to LA on a flight from the east coast on Sunday. Her seatmate passed out before he could drink them all and offered it to her. She’d accepted and hadn’t had time to unpack since then due to her overly packed schedule.

She unscrewed the lid and dumped the bottle’s contents into her coffee mug, shook it slightly to mix the two liquids, and sipped. She sighed when she felt the warmth from the whiskey spread through her body. The red wine she had planned to drink at home wasn’t strong enough when faced with the images in front of her.

Flipping to the third page, she became mesmerized by his deep blue eyes. The royal blue of the tie and the pale powder blue of his shirt deepened his natural shade to a cerulean blue, one that reminded her of the ocean on its clearest day or the sky over the mountains after a rainstorm when she was home in the Outback visiting her family. His straight white teeth peeked out from between his full bottom lip and the thin top one, and one image showed the tip of his tongue just peeking through and running along the bottom of his front teeth.

Suddenly, Y/N wondered what that tongue would feel like against hers. Luke’s confidence was enough to assure Y/N that he rarely, if ever, failed to get what he wanted. She could imagine the authority with which he approached women in which he was interested, and she had a feeling he wouldn’t be timid letting them know what he liked and what he wanted from each of them.

As the whiskey relaxed her more, she allowed herself to fantasize.

*** Y/N lowered her camera and called out, “Good job. Just a couple more angles and we’ll be done for the day.”

Luke smiled at her and nodded his agreement before walking toward her slowly and deliberately. He stopped just a few inches from her and looked down into her gray eyes, his blue gaze caressing her face before dipping to the valley between her full breasts that strained against her button down blouse. The intensity of his stare sent electricity through her body and she could feel her nipples tighten in response to him. A flash of desire shot across his face as they hardened enough that they stood at attention beneath the thin lace of her bra and the soft satin of her blouse. Without warning, Luke raised his hand to her and skimmed the pad of his thumb across her left nipple.

A soft gasp escaped from her lips as a jolt of pure sexual desire shot from his thumb straight to her core. She shook and almost dropped the camera, but he grabbed it with his other hand and steadied her.

“Easy there,” he joked softly in his deep voice. “Y/N don’t want to be dropping such expensive equipment. Let me put it in a safe place for Y/N.”