The elevator doors slid open and five sharply dressed men emerged. Four wore earpieces and were clearly on high alert while the fifth sported a confident swagger and relaxed, lopsided grin. He approached the door and knocked before turning to the closest agent, "We're not to be disturbed."
"Of course not Sir," the agent nodded, all business.
The door opened and the hallway was flooded with the aromas of lavender and vanilla mixed with a hint of her perfume.
"Hi," Olivia smiled, stepping aside to let him walk past. Despite being provided a wide berth he walked close enough to skim the back of his hand along her hip.
"Hi Livvie," his voice was the gravely baritone that immediately heated her skin.
Fitz held out the bottle in his hand as she turned from the closed door, "I found this tucked away."
"I'm impressed," she smiled down at the label, "How many more are left?" Olivia asked of the red that had been named for her.
"Three," Fitz slid his hands over her sensuous curves, "One for the day you agree to be my wife," he placed a light kiss on her lips, "One for the day you marry me," his lips tempted her pulse point, "and one for the day we take our first baby home to Vermont." He looked into her chestnut brown irises, gold flecks sparkling with excitement.
Olivia pushed up on her tiptoes to join their lips, her free hand running along the nape of his neck. Fitz groaned at her nails on his scalp, gripping her hips to draw her flush against him, deepening their kiss. The room grew warm as their tongues slid together, the world right again with her in his arms. They had agreed to put the past aside, forgive the indiscretions both had made, and focus on making their relationship work. There would be challenges, people would try to come between them, work could put them on opposite sides of an issue, but when night fell it would be just the two of them.
"We should eat," breathed Olivia reluctantly pulling back.
"I'm trying…" Fitz had a mischievous glint in his eye.
"Mr. President…" she chided, slipping from his hands and carrying the bottle of wine to the table.
Fitz watched her walk, appreciating the way her jeans hugged her curves, his hands itching to touch her. He wondered how he had gone so long without being with her, twenty-four hours now seemed an eternity. Pouring himself two fingers of Laphroaig, he turned back to watch her move around the kitchen.
"Is the scotch okay?" she smiled but didn't turn her attention from the table.
Fitz took a swallow, relishing the heat sliding down his throat, "You know me well Livvie."
"You bring me insanely good bottles of wine. I keep your favorite scotch on hand," Olivia stood back from the table, admiring her work, "Now sit, let's eat."
They ate amid comfortable conversation, Olivia giggling as Fitz tasted whipped cream from her lips, their fingers intertwined as if making up for lost time. Fitz's lips behind her ear caused a shiver to surge through her and her need for him to rise with a flush of crimson on her cheeks. She felt nervous, wanting to lose herself in Fitz but aware of where things had gone wrong in the past. Sex with Fitz was about more than physical gratification, it was passion and longing and emotions she never thought she would feel.
"I have to send a few emails," she said, forcing her brain back to life, "You relax on the couch and we can continue this when I'm finished."
She watched a crooked smirk curl the corner of his mouth before he picked up his tumbler, bringing it to his lips, "Don't be long."
His voice sent a flood of warmth to her core, the dull, heavy ache of desire nearly too much to stand. She watched him walk to the couch, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the button at his collar. He was the picture of masculinity and power, strong jaw, movements that were confident and fluid, and a body that left women slack jawed.
Olivia settled opposite Fitz on the couch, her laptop perched on her legs, feet propped on the coffee table next to her glass of Livvie red. Fitz sat back against the cushions and flipped on the television, settling on a news program before taking another long drink of scotch.
"Did Jake drink scotch?" he didn't turn his attention from the television but felt the moment when her eyes focused on his profile.
"Don't….." Olivia warned, a bite in her tone.
Fitz shrugged, "I don't know who else you buy scotch for," he still didn't look at her, "Was Edison a scotch drinker?"
"Why are you doing this?" she closed the laptop, placing it next to her wine on the table, "Why do you want to pick a fight with me?"
He took another swallow before turning to face her, "I don't want to fight with you but I have no idea what your life was like. I don't know if they brought you wine. I don't know if buying scotch is just what you do for men you…"
"Stop it," she stood, hands on her hips, eyes flaming with irritation, "Don't even finish that sentence. I thought we were going to forget all of that. I thought we were going to start over. You have to stop punishing me for things in my past."
Fitz opened his mouth to speak, spurred by her fury, but she abruptly turned and rushed towards her bedroom, slamming the door with a loud thud. He drained his glass then poured himself a refill, nearly finishing it in a single gulp. The burning amber liquid did little to temper his emotions, hunger and need for Olivia, anger that she had given up on them when he'd needed her most. His head fell into his hands as thoughts raced through his slightly inebriated mind. Deciding the evening was ruined and unsure if Olivia would ever come out of her bedroom, Fitz finished his scotch and pulled on his coat.
He stood outside her closed bedroom door, "Liv, I'm sorry. I'm going to leave. I'm sorry."
He silently reprimanded himself as he walked towards the front door. He knew he'd made a mistake and he wasn't being fair but forgiving and forgetting was easier said than done. A long sigh rushed from him when he pulled the door open.
"Fitz," she called, her voice full of urgency.
He turned expecting to see a tearstained face but there stood Olivia wearing nothing more than the silk La Perla babydoll he had sent her for Christmas. His mouth immediately ran dry and he unconsciously licked his lips.
"Close the door," her voice was sultry and smooth as she watched him do as she instructed.
Fitz stood frozen, watching her scantily clad form float across the room, refilling his tumbler and her wine glass, and walking towards him. He gladly took the glass, hoping to cure both his dry mouth and the throbbing below his waist. She moved into his arms, her scent enveloping him only stoking the flames that licked at his soul. His eyes slid closed, breathing her in, his right hand sliding down her back and coming to rest just above her backside.
Olivia's free hand ran along his cheek and down his neck until she reached his tie. One tug brought his lips down to hers in what started as a soft, chaste kiss. He startled at her first touch before settling into a rhythm they had learned long before. Her tongue slid against his, slowly, leisurely then along his lips at an equally deliberate pace.
"You taste delicious," she flirted, the appliqued pearls on her bodice chafing his firm chest muscles, "I was never much of a scotch fan."
His mouth covered hers again, this time his tongue in control.
"You don't taste so bad yourself," he murmured against the fall of her neck, "I'm sorry Livvie,"
"There is something else I've never done," she breathed, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and tossing it aside. His strong biceps beneath her hands made her breath quicken, "Ever since the first night I tasted scotch on your tongue…." Her voice trailed off.
"What Livvie?" his eyes were alight, mischievous and he moved them in the direction of her bedroom.
She blushed, gladly relinquishing control to Fitz, "I've wanted you to taste what I taste. To drink your favorite scotch off of me."
A growl rose from Fitz, spotting her piano out of the corner of his eye, and he angled them in that direction. Olivia sighed when he lifted her onto the piano, her foot hitting the keys causing a sharp moan of their own.
Fitz pulled back, admiring Olivia reclined on the piano, watching her shimmy out of her thin silk thong. He shed his shirt and tie, kicking his shoes across the hardwood floor and moving on to the button and zipper on his slacks.
"Come here," she whispered when he wore nothing except his boxer briefs.
He gladly obliged, his calloused palms running along the outside of her thighs raising the hem of her nightie. His mouth explored the newly uncovered flesh, his palms pressing the pearl applique against her sensitive nipples drawing a deep moan from her.
She reached for the half full glass of scotch that sat atop the piano, dripping just a splash over her navel then watching in awe as his tongue lapped up every last drop.
"Mmm….Olivia…." he captured her lips, an intoxicating kiss that drove her desire ever higher.
Fitz slid his hands beneath her lingerie, cupping her bare breasts, his thumbs circling the stiff peaks, feeling her breathing increase. He pushed the thin fabric over her head, he needed to see and feel all of her. She gasped when his hand ran over the delicate skin of her inner thigh and a rush of heat warmed her core. It was Fitz's turn to drizzle scotch over her flushed skin. He started between her breasts, watching it trickle towards her stomach, then followed the trail where it disappeared between her thighs.
Her fingers knotted in his hair and she bit back a scream as his tongue parted her folds. He worked a slow, deliberate pattern against her delicate skin spurred on by her ever tightening grip on his hair and her muted moans. His erection strained against the confines of his boxers and he knew he needed to be inside her soon, causing him to speed his ministrations.
"F-Fitz…." She spoke gingerly through gritted teeth, "Oh God, Fitz."
Her climax bore down on her like a freight train, color rushing her chest and abdomen, the heaviness in her pelvis beginning its assent until she knew one touch would send her spiraling into oblivion. He paused as if he knew it too, peeking up at her, betraying a sly smile before again closing his mouth over her swollen nub with a low groan.
"Mr. President," she moaned at the very top of her lungs, no longer caring if the agents outside rushed through the door.
Fitz straightened himself, his throbbing length begging to be freed from its confines, hands exploring her dewy flushed skin from her neck, along her sternum, and over her abdomen. She watched with rapt attention as he traced the path his mouth had so expertly traversed then licked his lips when his gaze fell to her moist, swollen center.
"Turn over," he said, his voice raspy and deeper than usual. She scrambled to follow his directive, his tone filling her with exhilaration.
"God, you're so beautiful," he teased her ear with his tongue and teeth, his chest pressed against her back, his right hand sliding in front of her to hold her tight against him.
"I need to feel you," her words came out as a breathy plea. His thickness sliding along her buttocks, her breath hitching in anticipation of the huge length stretching her. Her words caused his cock to twitch, searching out her heat. Touching her this way, his fingers curling around her neck, her delicious body held so firmly against his, nearly drove him wild. He steadied himself, attempting to rein his arousal, focusing on pleasing the perfect woman whose body he possessed.
A guttural moan escaped him when he finally pushed fully into her and he watched her nails dig into the wood of the piano. Olivia felt fully controlled, his grip on her neck holding her at his mercy while his length reached the most sensitive spots within her. Again and again he collided with that place, each touch provoking a louder moan as she set her nails deeper into the wood piano top. He watched her fingers, recalling the feel of those nails sinking into the flesh of his back, the times he had hidden the deep purple and red marks from Mellie, the minutes he spent in front of the bathroom mirror allowing the sight of the marks she left to conjure the feel of her in his arms.
He pistoned faster and harder into her, her feet leaving the floor when he hoisted her higher onto the piano in front of her. His grunts and her moans mixed with the strain of the piano legs against the hardwood floor below them in a lusty symphony. Neither cared who heard them, each wholly focused on the other. She pushed her hips back to meet his, greedy, wanting him deeper.
"So tight, Livvie," he growled against her spine coiling his pelvis against her center at a mind-numbing pace.
"Please Fitz, don't stop," she panted beneath him, "I'm so close."
He changed the angle of his thrusts, the new sensation driving her ever closer to her release before sliding his fingers to her pearl. The rush of her orgasm overcame her and her channel trembled around him pulling him towards the edge of his own climax. Harder, faster, deeper, he powered into her, her sensitive tissues screaming with pleasure, his fingers digging deeply into her hips, each thrust pushing the piano closer and closer to the wall until he exploded in one final plunge and a mass of mutual expletives, the piano colliding into the wall with a bang.
Olivia slid back to her feet, turning in his arms to look into his face, "Well that was certainly a first."
"The scotch?" he asked with a kiss to her lips.
"The sex," she breathed against his ear, her fingers playing in the curls at the nape of his neck. Then in response to his puzzled expression, "Sex on the piano. I've never…."
A pleased smile blossomed on Fitz's lips as a low growl rumbled from his chest, "Wanna do it again?"
Olivia looked down, surprised to see his still hard cock bobbing between them, "You're insatiable."
"Guilty," he grinned pulling her flush against him again.
"How about we take round two to the bedroom," Olivia suggested with a nip to his lower lip.
"Can't keep up with the most powerful man in the world on the piano again?" the glint in his eye was a clear challenge.
She giggled, sliding from his grasp. "Don't want to be taken into custody by the secret service for attempting to assassinate the president, "she replied, "All of that scotch, the physical demands, you know you're not getting any younger." She glanced over her shoulder as she sauntered in the direction of her bedroom.
"You're going to pay for that, Ms. Pope," he smirked, starting in her direction.
"Come and get me, Mr. President."
Just a little something that came to mind. Let me know what you think.