Waiting For Sunday

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“Amalia,” Oliver murmurs, “Can you just give us a moment?”

She looks between us, her eyes finally settling on mine, “Fine,” she says, turning on her heel and disappearing.

“And I mean really give us a minute, no hiding behind the corner,”

“Fuck! Finnnee!” She whines as music begins to play, her feet shuffling as she organises the floor for her next class.

Pulling my hands into his, Oliver looks to me, his eyes pouring into mine, “I know you’re scared, and I know you’re worried, but I promise, I promise, I don’t want to mess this up, I want us to be more than just fun, I want that and more,” he starts, not even giving me a chance to reply, “So could you? Would you be willing to give this a chance, give us a chance?”

I chew on my bottom lip, my eyes falling to the floor. I know I’d said no, but this past few weeks with Oliver have been amazing and I don’t want to push him away not if it means I could be happy, truly happy.



His eyebrows raise, his head dipping down to catch my eyes again. I look up and give him a small smile, “But please don’t feel that if you’re not happy that you can't say anything. Don’t string me along, it’ll only hurt me more,”

With a gentle smile curling on his lips, his eyes creasing at the outer corners like always, he brings the tips of his fingers around my jaw and lifts my face to look at his, “I promise, if I ever feel like this won’t work, I promise I won’t drag this out, I’m kinda hoping that if anything, I hope I don’t disappoint you,”

I scoff, incredulous at his remark, “Me get bored of you? Never!”

His lips fall upon mine, caressing against them softly and adoringly, “I promise you won’t regret this,” he whispers before kissing me again. His arms wrap around me, holding me against his chest and with a deep breath he sighs.

“Sunday,” he murmurs.


“Can I come out yet?” Amalia suddenly shouts and breaks our attention, our eyes falling to the archway where her studio lies behind.

“Yes,” Oliver chuckles, but not letting go of me.

“So you two, your uh—,”

“Yes,” I smile, my gaze looking back up to Oliver for just a second.

“I have to head back into work, but I’ll meet you after,” I nod smiling as his lips caress mine again and with hesitation, he lets go and walks out of the studio.


“Hi,” I smile back as I watch Oliver lean against his car.

“So, how do we do this?” He asks as he pulls me into his arms.

“I’m not sure,”

“Well how about we start with some dinner and then maybe head back to yours or mine?”

“Wouldn’t Amy mind if you brought me back?”

“No, that girl has such a busy social life, I may as well be living on my own,” he chuckles softly, his lips pressing against my temple, moving down onto my cheek and then to my lips. Breathing in deeply, his lips move again and graze my ear with another breath in he whispers, “Mine?”

“Yours?” I smirk as I pull my head back.

“Yes— I’ve not stopped thinking about you since I left earlier, you've been quite the distraction,”

“Oh really?” I tease, pulling away but giggling when I’m pulled back in.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that filthy email this afternoon,”

“Oh, so you did see it?”

“I did,” I smirk.

“And what did you think?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking that you most certainly won't be putting it where you said you’d like too,” I giggle again as his eyes roll.

“You’re no fun!” He teases as I begin walking away. His arms still hang in the air, hoping that I’ll return to them. But with a sway of my hips, I tease and watch as he rolls his eyes and begins walking around to the other side of his car and opens the door, his hand resting on the roof of the car.

“My place or yours?”

“Mine,” I call out as I open the door to my car and throw my bag into the passenger seat,”

“Race you,” he smirks, laughing playfully as I roll my eyes and climb inside.

“Told you I’d win,”

“I don’t remember it being a race,” Oliver pouts, wrapping his arms around my waist as I open the front door.

“Don’t be such a baby,” I giggle as I step inside.

“Did you seriously just call me a baby?”

“I did,” I smirk, biting my bottom lip.

“Well in that case,” he starts, lifting me up and over his shoulder. I squeal, slapping my hands against his ass as he walks me upstairs.

“You’ll be calling me baby but it won’t be because I’m behaving like a child,”

“Then why?” I goad, knowing to full well what he means.

“Oh you know why,” he grins as he carries on up the stairs.

Panting and out of breath, we collapse back on the mattress nearly an hour later. He’d more than proven that I’d call him baby and that it would be for all the right reasons. As I wipe my hair away from my dampened skin, his fingers trail across my chest and between the dip of my breasts.

“Your skin,” he begins.

“My skin?”

“It’s like porcelain, pale but delicate, and I could look at it all day,”

“Oliver,” I chuckle as his lips begin to envelop my nipple.

“To touch you, to kiss you, to— taste you,” he whispers against me.

“Oliver,” I moan as my eyes flutter closed.

“You keep saying my name like that and we won’t be leaving this bed at all tonight,” he murmurs as his hands pull me toward him, then taking my breasts into his hands, pushing them together so that his mouth can suck and tease simultaneously between my hardening nipples.

Wrapping my arms around his neck, my fingers thread into his hair as I relish the feel of his tongue, flicking, his mouth sucking as I moan.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this,” he smiles against me.

“I hope— not,” I moan again.

Oliver’s fingers trail down my stomach, cupping my mound as I arch my back, my hips pushing against him.


“I told you, you say my name like that and we won’t be leaving this bed all night,”

“Oliver,” I moan again, purposely pushing to see if he’ll stick to his word.

“Right— you asked for it,” he chuckles softly, pushing me back and grabbing my hips as he climbs back in between my legs.

“The things I'm going to do to you?”

“Show me,” I smile back but am cut off as his lips crash against mine.

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