"Um, are you sure? I mean I haven't done anything for you yet?" Having Ollie inches away from my hoo-ha area is exilerating but also very nerve- wracking. Every step I take with him I'm afraid of being bombarded with guilt or regret. It's easy to remain in the safe zone of keeping our clothes on and using our hands only, because so far that has worked.

"My main concern is pleasing you, Murry. I get off when you do." He waits, the tips of his fingers playing with my panty line.

The soft playful touches makes saying yes to everything so much easier, however I'm about to freak out.

"Um, can I have a minute. Alone?"

He promptly stands his brows up turning and worry plays across his beautiful features, "Of course." He reaches to touch my hair but stops midcourse, turning and leaving me in the en suite bathroom.

"Oh my God." I whimper and rub my hands up and down my face then attempt to fix my wet tangled hair. I look like a big ball of ginger mess. Why am I not wearing even the slightest amount of makeup? I look like some soggy ball of orange yarn.

I brush my teeth with frantic haste then gurgle some mouth wash.

My fumbling fingers dig through my toiletry bag with basically no makeup to select from but grab the pencil I use to outline my eye brows.

He's going to know you put makeup on, you dummy.

I cap the pencil and throw it back into the bag deciding now makeup is not a good idea. I smell my underarms and apply a thick coating of deoderant just to be safe then drop my eyes to my pubic area. Pulling my pink panties away I take a peek to be sure everything is decent down there. Thankfully, I get it lasered because body hair freaks me out.

Okay...his body hair doesn't freak me out.

"Shit!" I whisper-yell and look at my frantic reflection in the antique mirror before be. "What are you doing?" I ask my disheveled appearance.

Knock, knock

"Everything alright in there, Murry?"
His voice comes through the door and my racing heart rises into my throat.

"No- yeah, everything is fine. I'll be out in a second." I squeak and give my reflection another stare-down.

Why can't I be normal and just enjoy this?

Why do I have to worry about everything? I am perfectly allowed to do this. I want to do this. And who else do I trust more than Oliver? Why shouldn't I be permitted to enjoy one, crazy, weekend?

I grab my hair brush from the white counter and begin to brush through my hair quickly, breaking up the wet mess on my head. I apply some frizz-control to it and feel a tad bit better. I'm far from supermodel skinny or cover girl looking in the face but at least I look presentable now, sort of...he did say I am beautiful...

I set the brush down and turn to look at my backside. "Okay," I can do this.

This is my weekend. No rules, no obligations. I'll go back to following the rules Monday. I'll figure everything out then. My internal pep-talk fills me with bravery so before I over think that as well I turn and open the door to the bedroom. He stands there leaning agains the wall next to the bathroom door and eyes me suspiciously. "You alright?"

"Mmhmm. Totally, fine."

"You're a shit liar. Why do you even try?" He half laughs and follows behind me and the two of climb into my bed under the blankets.

"I'm fine. I'm not lying."

"Your eye brow is twitching. That's your tell."

I cover my forehead and eye brows with my hand and spin around to avoid looking at him all together.

"You are allowed to tell me 'no'. I want you to, Muriel. I don't want you to do something just because you reckon it'll make me happy."

"I know. That wasn't it. I-I did want you to do...that-"

"To lick your pussy?"

"Ollie! For christ's sake why?" I grab a free pillow and throw it back behind me while he's laughing loudly.

"It's adorable. You know I like to see you cringe." He laughs deflecting the pillow I just sent his way.

Hearing the dirty words coming from him makes me cringe but I'll never admit hearing him say these dirty things also causes me to shudder in all the most intoxicating ways.

The fantasy of continuing this naughty and exhilarating weekend beyond Sunday is equally as intoxicating. But Monday looms close like a big black thundercloud, not the good kind of thunderclouds, but the kind that rains down reality. Ollie leaving Tuesday is for the best. If he were to linger around as a constant reminder of what this beautifully scary weekend held, behaving would be a struggle.

With him gone by Tueadsy I can go back to having a clear mind and my body can return to being under my control, not his.

As I internally talk myself into being relieved for Ollie's departure on Tuesdsy the sadness slowly starts to settle in.

How long will it be this time? Another five years without seeing him?

I'll be thirty years old? This has been known to me since I was a child. By thirty I'd be a doctor, living in New York City, working at one of the top hospitals in the nation. But now...I don't know where I'm going to be in two months much less than five years...and where will he be?

"You know, " Ollie interupts and pulls me flush the back of my body flush against his front, "If you talked it out I can give you my incredibly wise advice."

I bite onto my lip and let my eyes fall close loving all the warmness of his soft skin touching mine.

"You give the worst advice, Ollie." I whisper and shudder when his lips press against the back of my neck. The soft and sweet kiss is nearly painful sending off intense sparks from my neck down my spine causing an unexpected groan to leave my lips.

"I give the best advice you are always too afraid and never want to listen to it." He moves the bulk of my hair away and plants another lingering kiss against the back of my neck making me tense and melt like butter all at once.

"And how would you even know what I'm even thinking? Maybe I don't even need advice." I playfully argue finding my hand has wrapped around and tangled into his wet hair.

"You're overthinking. As always." His soft lips brush against my neck and his breath tortures my sensitive skin as he speaks, his tender kisses digging in and now having all control of me.

He may have my body but my brain remains on my side...sort of, a little. Kind of?

"The best advice I can give is, 'Fuck it'." He says dipping his into my bra, touching me without the boundaries of my bra.

"That's horrible advice." My back arches acting of it's own free will pressing my rear into his hardened crotch. "We should slow down, before we can't." I say, wanting to hear it said aloud but most of me wanting to ignore it entirly.

He removes his hand, leaving me only wanting him even more, but snuggles me so tight I can only smile in response.

"Tomorrow's Sunday." He says into the back of my head.

"I know."

"We're going back to reality on Monday." He adds quietly.

"I know." I whisper while my chest caves in. I've never wanted to live in a fantasy so badly.
______________________________________

Why are they so cute?

I'm used to writing rather...lol not innocent characters I guess, so this is such a lovely change!

I wonder what will happen their last day in Cornwall?

How is everyone doing? Let me know! What are you working on?

Also, I listen to Taylor Swifts Folklore album on repeat when writing this story, its just so good!

I never was a T Swift hardcore fan, I liked her songs here and there but this entire album is fucking amazing!