"You know, it would be bad form for the president to arrive at his own dinner dateless." His whispered suggestion broke the silence of the darkened room. Thankful for the new moon and its lack of reflective properties, she kept her gaze on the ceiling as an amused smile spread across her lips.
"Your dinner? I was under the impression that state dinners were in honour of the visiting foreign head of state." She sunk further into the soft mattress, pulling the soft, red covers to her chin. The low humming of the air conditioning filled the room and the blasts of cool air coming from the vent above the king-sized bed caused goosebumps to scatter across her skin. The mattress dipped under her as he shifted his weight, turning onto his side and propping his head in his hand, elbow sinking into the goosefeather pillow.
"You're deflecting."
She could imagine the smirk that was most definitely playing across his sculpted lips. He was a man who wasn't afraid to call her out on her bullshit. She needed that. For all her talk of change and wanting to make this work, she sure had a way of falling into old habits. It was just in her nature.
"I'm scared." Admitting her fears was new. Despite the pounding in her chest, that unfamiliar accelerated heart rate at a time of rest and the sudden clammy palms, her tone was neutral. She wasn't one to allow her voice to waver. Sliding her palms along the top of the covers, trying to wipe away what she could of the tiny sweat droplets lining her hands, she swallowed hard.
"Is being with me scary, Livvie?"
Despite her emotions, she found herself laughing. The deep, throaty giggle filling the room. Leave it to him to turn this into a joking matter. Turning onto her side, she kicked her legs along the mattress, aiding her actions of scooting across the mattress. When there was no room left between their bodies, she placed her elbow on his pillow near his own elbow and rested her head in her hand. They were close enough that she could make out the outline of his nose and chin in the darkened room. Close enough that their breaths were mingling in the air between them and the scent of his Tom Ford cologne assaulted her nostrils. The warm, comforting tobacco smell mixed with spices, enough to make her long for a sunny day surrounded by rows of green, leafy tobacco plants and fresh-plowed fields although she had never spent a day of her life on a farm, flooded her senses.
"You aren't the scary part of this equation."
He laid his large hand on her hip, drumming his thick fingers against her, the blush, satin material of her feminine boxer shorts sliding beneath his fingers. It was a miracle that her clothes had made it this long in his bed.
"The media? You wouldn't face them alone."
"Can I have time to think about it?" It wasn't a yes. It wasn't a no, either. She was being honest with him. Open. There was a lot to consider and, being Olivia, she wasn't going to jump headfirst into what had the potential of being extremely stormy waters.
"Two days, seventeen hours, and fifty-five minutes."
His gravelly voice echoed off the walls. She almost wished there was some hint of light in the dark room. Anything to see the bemused smile on his face. He was giving her an ultimatum - she knew that without it having to be explicitly stated. She had until the moment he was expected to walk into his dinner to give an answer.
"Make me want to say yes." It was simple - she craved romance. It wasn't something she had, in her thirty-some years of life, ever been on the receiving end of. Edison had been...Edison. She was the other half of his perfect equation - only there to look pretty on his arm, to be his trophy wife while he blazed a path through Washington. Then there had been Jake. Mediocre in his life and medicore in bed. Forever blacklisted from her own life.
"I can make you say yes all night long."
A sliver of desire shot through her body at his words. He always had that effect on her and he damn sure could (and she would be kidding herself if she didn't think he would - if only to prove a point) have her saying that very word on repeat. His fingers slowly trailed from her hip to the band of her boxer shorts, slipping just inside her band and rubbing her soft skin. Rolling onto her back, she dropped her head to the pillow, hair spilling across the red satin. Slowly, he slid his hand further into her shorts, rubbing across the silky panties she had on. A gasp left her lips at the first feel of his fingers pressing against her centre through her panties. Resting his forehead against hers, his soft curls brushing against her skin, he stared into her eyes as he began moving his fingers against her.
"Fitz." Her skin was buzzing, sensitive to every little brush of his body against hers. The tightening in her nipples was almost painful, the hardened nubs straining for attention. Her silky top, rubbing against her breasts, and the feel of his fingers pressing against her clit, rubbing vigorously with her silk underwear added a cool friction that she wasn't used to. Struggling against his hands and moving her head away from his, she raised herself just enough to begin unbuttoning her pyjama top - fingers shaky and unsteady as Fitz refused to slow his movements. Only when she had tossed her top across the room, too preoccupied to watch it float listlessly in the air for a moment before slowly drifting to the floor, did he take a moment to glance at her uncovered torso.
"Fuck." His strangled whisper filled the room and a coy smile played across her lips. Keeping her gaze locked with his, she lifted her arm, placing her hand on her breast. His blue eyes darkened when she rubbed the side of her thumb across her nipple, her mouth falling into an 'o' at the sensation.
"Oomf." She was surprised when he suddenly withdrew his hand from her, pulling it from her shorts. He placed his lips against hers, sucking softly on her bottom lip. Ending their kiss, he slid down her body, taking special effort to avoid her chest, and placed warm, wet kisses over her abdomen. She bit her lip when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her boxer shorts, sliding them and her underwear down her toned legs. After tossing her clothing over his shoulder, he hooked his hands under her knees, pulling her legs apart. She whimpered in anticipation when he placed her legs on his shoulders and settled on the mattress.
"Don't stop touching yourself." His gruff command had her squirming as he moved his lips, his wonderful lips, to her thigh - dragging his warm, wet tongue up her leg. His blue eyes didn't leave her chest, though, and, with a smirk, she decided to put on quite the show just for him. Her dark eyes fluttered shut for a moment when she skimmed the pads of her thumbs across her hard nipples. Using her thumb and index fingers, she pinched her hardened nubs, twisting her sensitive peaks. The slight pain mixed with the pleasure of his mouth connecting with her core had her writhing on the bed.
"Fuck," she groaned, her hands leaving her chest and finding their way to his hair as his tongue swirled around her clit, lips pursing while he suckled her. Biting her lip, she frowned when he pulled away.
"Huh-uh." His large hand grasped her smaller ones, tugging until she let go of his silky strands of hair. "Keep your hands to yourself."
Nodding, her hands moved back to her chest, twisting and flicking at her nipples. Her back arched when his mouth returned to her clit, his afternoon stubble tickling her smooth, shaved skin. Hands stilling, all she could do was grip her generous breasts, fingers sinking into her skin, when he pushed two, thick fingers into her. Gradually, her legs fell apart even wider as he brought her to the edge. With a loud shriek, she came around his fingers, her head falling back to the pillow.
"Mmm-mmm," she cried out, legs jerking as he continued licking her sensitive clit. She was always over sensitive afterwards and his continued ministrations nearly brought her to tears. Sighing in relief when he finally pulled away, her chest rose with each heavy breath. Scooting backwards on his stomach, he placed his feet on the floor. Boxers flew across the room and she planted her feet firmly against the mattress, legs spread wide.
"Fuck!" He entered her with one quick roll of his hips - her soaking core offering little resistance. She gripped his arms tight, his muscles straining as his hands dug into the mattress. A frown crossed her face when he pulled out of her, backing away. Whimpering, she watched him lean down and run his tongue over her folds before tapping her hip.
"Turn around."
"What?"
"Turn. Around."
Arms shaking, she pushed herself into a sitting position, fire burning in the pit of her stomach at his gruff command. There was something about his commanding dominance in the bedroom that made her knees weak. Turning around, she rested her weight on her forearms. Cheek against the sheets and back arched, she cried out when he entered her from behind. One hand digging into her hip, he caressed her ass with the other. Slap. Slap.
"Fuck!" She screamed when his hand connected with her round bottom. The pain, mixed with the indescribable pleasure of his dick sliding in and out of her, was her undoing. She heard him grunting and felt his fingers digging into her skin as her pussy pulsated around his thick, veiny cock. It was the roughest he had been with her, yet, and if she were being honest - she wanted more.
"You're so fucking tight." His open-mouthed kisses trailing down her spine had her shivering as he resumed his brutal pace. Hips jerking and thrusts becoming more and more erratic and uneven, she knew he was close. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes - her mouth biting onto the bed sheets as loud, wet slapping sounds filled the room accompanied by his groans. "Come for me one more time, baby."
Legs and arms shaking, she screamed out when one of his strong arms snaked around her waist and his hand instantly went between her legs. Warm, sticky wetness coated his fingers as he rubbed her clit in tandem with his hard thrusts. She felt the coil tightening in her stomach once more and, just as his hips quit jerking and she was greeted by the hot, sexy feeling of his cum between her thighs, it broke. Exhausted, she fell to the bed with Fitz's head resting between her shoulder blades.
/
"What's this?" Olivia stood with her arms crossed, the gentle summer breeze tugging at the bottom of her baby pink, Alexander McQueen crêpe minidress. White, puffy clouds filled the brilliant blue sky above and birds could be heard singing in the distance. At Olivia's feet, a large red and black plaid blanket covered the well-manicured lawn. A wooden, woven basket sat on one corner and Dutch style champagne bucket stood on another corner with a bottle chilling.
"This is our first date." Fitz's grin was childish, his hands tucked into the pockets of his blue dress pants. Olivia had come to learn that was a habit of his when he was nervous. Nervous about what, she wasn't sure.
Lips curling upwards, she placed a well-manicured hand on his arm and kissed his cheek - a task made easier by the strappy, white wedges she wore. Resting her head against his chest, she took in her surroundings. The tall, leafy trees created a wall of green that protected them from the crowds of people that usually lingered around the White House - and the nosy photographers that somehow managed to get photos of everything. The White House itself was behind them, visible in the distance. He had warned her that it would be quite a walk.
"It's perfect."
She allowed him to help her to the ground, resting her legs gracefully to her side as she settled on the soft blanket. Her eyes followed his form, absolutely delicious in his tight pants and white, rolled up sleeves, as he moved about the picnic basket. Pulling two tall, skinny flutes from the basket, he sauntered to the champagne bucket. Firmly easing the cork from the bottle, she jumped slightly at the hiss of the cork releasing. The sound of bubbles chattering reached her ears as he filled both glasses to the halfway mark. He sat his atop the unopened side of the picnic basket while hers, he handed to her - fingers lingering against hers.
Bringing the glass to her lips and sampling the champagne, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes at the first feel of the crystalline pearls exploding across her tastebuds. The subtle fruitiness of the champagne lingered on her tongue long after she had settled her glass on the blanket beside her. Licking her lips, she slowly opened her eyes and peeked at what Fitz was doing. He had kicked off his brown oxfords and was treading across the blanket toward her in blue socks, a covered dish in his hands.
"This smells good." Extending her arms, she took the warm, metal dish. A sweet, buttery scent wafted to her nostrils as she placed the dish before her on the blanket. He returned seconds later with a dish of his own - his champagne flute in one hand and two forks balancing precariously atop the metal lid of his dish. Gracefully, he lowered himself to the blanket beside her, crossing his legs. She plucked a fork from his dish and lifted the lid on hers. The sweet scent of peaches, butter, and cinnamon filled the air as her uncovered dish revealed a warm, crispy brown cobbler.
"What do you think?" He was busy uncovering his own dish, resting his champagne flute beside his leg, and balancing his fork in his mouth. Digging his fork into his cobbler, he held the piece in the air - finally turning his blue gaze to her and watching as she brought her own fork to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the sweet morsel and moaning at the explosion of tastes in her mouth.
"Amazing."
"A little birdie told me this is your favourite." He finally put his food in his mouth.
"Cyrus." It wasn't a question. There was only one man at the White House who had knowledge of her favourite sweets - or the fact that she liked sugar a little too much. Fitz's deep chuckle accompanied by a head nod told her that she had been correct in her assumption. It brought a smile to her lips. She admired Cyrus. He had long been her mentor and her first point of contact in Washington. She didn't need his seal of approval to be with Fitz, but it sure was nice having it.
"So...our first date." Olivia scraped the bottom of her dish, licking the last of the tasty peach concoction from her fork before placing it and the lid in the dish. Placing her hands on the blanket behind her, she leaned backwards and studied his face. His eyes had crinkled at her remark, crow's feet showing themselves. He laughed. A lot. It was one of the things she had grown to like about him.
"Probably should have come before all the sex." His lips curled into a smirk, hands shoving his dish away. Placing one of his hands between hers, he leaned his body toward her - his champagne flute in his other hand. Biting her lip, she watched as he placed his lips against the glass's rim and drank deeply.
"Nothing comes before the sex."
"Not true. Sometimes you do."
"Fitzgerald!" Olivia choked on the champagne she had just drank. A bit of the bubbly liquid trickled down her chin. Wiping furiously with her hand, she coughed a few times. She had long given up any hopes of being cool, calm, and collected in his presence. Shaking her head, a strand of her hair flew into her eyes. Before she had a chance to raise a hand, his warm, calloused fingers were brushing against her forehead - moving the piece of hair behind her ear.
"You should wear your hair like this more often."
Her heart fluttered as she looked at him. None of the other guys in her less than perfect relationships had liked her natural hair. Even Edison would complain when she wore her hair naturally. It would hurt his image. Make it more difficult to gain all the right connections. Distract from their perfect, cookie-cutter image that he had cultivated. God she had been thrilled to ruin his run for the Senate with well-placed evidence of his cheating - even if it had broken her heart at the time.
"Maybe I should wear it like this for the state dinner." She rested her forehead against his, eyes staring into his ever darkening blues. He was turned on. But so was she.
"Maybe you should." Eyes drifted to her full lips before he closed what little distance there was left between them and placed his mouth atop hers. Drawing her bottom lip between his teeth, he sucked on her soft, supple lip until she was moaning into his mouth. His tongue swept across her teeth, the taste of champagne and peach cobbler lingering. Without a thought, her hands were on his shoulders and she was lifting her body to straddle his lap. His large hands found their way to her ass, gripping her as she moved her hips, grinding herself against his straining cock. Breathing heavily, she pulled away and rested her forehead against his, her hips still twirling above him.
"This is why we can't go into public." She chuckled against his mouth, running her tongue along his closed lips until he finally opened them to her. The feel of his hand moving between her legs and fingers hooking under the thin, rose-coloured string of her thong, tugging it between her ass, brought her back to her senses. They were in a secluded section of the lawn, yes, but there would always be the possibility of some paparazzo getting a shot. And what a shot they would get, too, if they had managed to get anywhere near the couple at the moment. The president sitting cross-legged on a plaid blanket and one of the prominent members of Washington society grinding against him. Embarrassed as she was at the possibility of getting caught, the thought of how she must look on Fitz's lap, legs splayed on either side of him, only soaked her panties more.
"If you didn't jump me all the time, woman." His chest rumbled as he laughed, placing soft kisses against her nose.
"I'm addicted." She shrugged, moving her head to his neck. Giving him hickeys was a talent she had recently discovered and man did she love marking him. It was a subtle way of laying claim to him and were the news stations ever eating it up. Speculation was running wild over President Grant's mystery woman.
"I don't know if I can date a sex addict."
Raising her head, her mouth inches from his ear, she whispered: "Even if your dick is the only one I think about?"
If it was even possible, she felt him harden beneath her - poking incestantly into her drenched centre. Suddenly, an idea hit her. Hands reaching between their bodies, she was quick to unbutton and unzip his pants. Reaching inside the blue dress pants, her hand closed around his hard dick. His eyes fluttered shut as she worked him out of his pants and boxers.
"Baby?" His strangled voice was barely audible.
"Just trust me," she huffed, rubbing her finger across his tip. He tilted his head back, groaning loudly. He was sensitive there and she took full advantage of that knowledge whenever she needed to. Using one hand to push her thong to the side, she rocked back on her knees, giving her enough room to line him up with her throbbing core. "Keep your hands on my thighs and hold my dress down."
"Naughty."
"Horny," she corrected, biting her lip as she slid down his hard member. Thick and long, he stretched her - filling her to the brim. Her breath was hot and heavy against his face as she bucked her hips. This was going to be fast - she could feel it. Resting her hands against his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, she twirled her hips. If anyone saw them, they would definitely be judged. But, at least, they would think she was giving him a lapdance at the most.
"You're so fucking wet."
"I always am around you."
Her orgasm took her unaware. Mouth falling open, her forehead crashed against his (causing bruises they would both laugh about later), and her thighs tightened against his. Wave after wave of euphoria crashed around her, completely soaking his pants. He didn't care - he could change later. Although that was the farthest thing from his mind as the feeling of her squeezing his dick triggered his own release.
"That was some first date." She laid across his chest, head resting on his shoulder. His arms were wrapped around her, stroking her back. They had managed to use what little energy they had left to fix their clothing before resting against the soft blanket and hard ground on their backs. Laying beside one another hadn't lasted for long before Olivia had rolled over, draping her body across his.
"The best first date." He yawned, eyes fluttering shut. As his soft snores began to fill the air around them, she pecked the corner of his mouth. Scooting down his body, she rested her head against his chest and allowed her own eyes to slowly close - the even rise and fall of his chest lulling her into a comatose state.
/
"Wow."
She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks, causing her skin to burn and tingle. Tilting her head, her lips spread into a wide grin. When she had told that man she wanted romance… His eyes didn't leave her body. Even leaning against the doorframe, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his black tux, the darkness in his blue eyes alluded to something other than relaxation. It took her breath away. No one had looked at her that way. No one had given her a look that so clearly stated she was theirs. And normally, she wouldn't be okay with that. She was Olivia Pope. Strong, confident, independent Olivia Pope. With him, though, she could be all those things and more.
"You approve?" Arching her perfectly sculpted brow, hand wrapped around the smooth, gleaming wooden railing, she slowly navigated the remaining stairs. The black, four-inch heels weren't the tallest in her collection, but coupled with the floor-length gown she was wearing, it made her descent a little treacherous. It didn't help that he was staring at her like he wanted to rip the white, Calvin Klein gown from her body right there and then. She felt her knees buckle, her fingers digging into the soft wood, knuckles turning white as she struggled to remain upright. The things that man could do to her with only a look.
As if sensing her struggle, he pulled his hands from his pockets while shoving away from the solid doorframe. Long legs propelled him the short distance over the worn carpet and up the stairs. Stopping on the stair below her, he wrapped his muscular arm around her back, eyes widening in surprise as his fingers brushed against the silky smooth flesh of her bare back. Rubbing his thumb against her exposed side, his warm skin always welcome against her cool flesh, he slowly led her down the stairs. Without much thought, she had laid her head against his shoulder, the smell of honey drifting to his nose from her perfectly slicked back bun. Lost in her own world, she pouted when he stopped at the bottom of the staircase, hand lingering on her side. Brushing his nose against her cheek, his breath was warm against her face as his lips began moving, whispering:
"I approve."
His husky voice sent chills down her spine and her cheeks burned once more. Hand still lingering on her back, long graceful fingers rubbing against her side, they began the short trek from one staircase to the set of double doors separating them from the rest of the dinner party.
"I want to introduce you to my kids."
She exhaled sharply. His comment was unexpected. Three months together and they hadn't mentioned meeting his kids one time. She knew the older two were in boarding school and that the youngest, Teddy, stayed with his mom. She wasn't aware of their custody agreement other than knowing that the kids didn't stay with Fitz often and he tried to schedule their visits around his other state visits and trips.
"I don't know if I'm ready for that."
"You'll think about it?"
She nodded. That she could do. She wasn't the maternal type and had never pictured herself with children. That was before fate had thrown this beautiful man her way. Eventually, she was going to have to make the effort. Even if the thought of meeting his children terrified her more than walking into the state dinner had. She didn't know what she would do or what it would mean if his kids didn't like her.
"I'll think about it."
Taking smaller steps, he matched his usually long, quick gait to her slower one. Even with her heels, his height dwarfed her and she struggled to keep pace with him. At the closed double doors, they stopped. The two agents flanking the doors, dressed in their ever present black suits, stood with their hands clasped behind their backs and their eyes focused on the wall before them.
"Are you ready?" He was giving her a chance to back out if she wanted to and she was grateful for that. She wouldn't back out - she wanted this.
"Yes." Linking her arm with his, body shaking slightly, she waited for the two agents to toss the door open. Nervousness was new to her, but expected in this instance. Her whole life was about to change the moment they stepped beyond that door. In an instant, once those doors had been thrown open, his face twisted into the stoic, presidential expression she had grown used to seeing on television. The mask that hid the man beneath.
"President Fitzgerald Grant and Miss Olivia Pope."
She felt the stares and heard the whispers making there way through the crowds. All eyes were focused on them. A few women narrowed their eyes in her direction, snarls on their lips. Squaring her shoulders, she matched her steps with his, keeping her arm locked around his. Let them stare all they want. Across the room, they stopped before the tall, short-haired, older lady.
"Madam Prime Minister." Fitz extended his hand, shaking the woman's. After dropping her hand, he moved his arm to Olivia's back, twisting his body toward her. "Allow me to introduce Miss Pope."
Taking a shaky breath, Olivia extended her hand, grasping the Prime Minister's. Despite the amount of times she had brushed shoulders with the rich and powerful in the United States, this was her first time meeting a foreign leader. All eyes were on her, too, judging her as the president's girlfriend and, thus, a representative of their nation. Every step would be analysed. She knew the drill - her firm had practically invented the procedure.
"Madam Prime Minister. Please call me Olivia."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Olivia."
Following their introduction, Olivia stood beside Fitz, hands clasped behind her back, as he and the Prime Minister greeted each of the guests. It was a long, drawn out procedure that forced her to bite back several yawns - who knew there were so many people invited? - but one that Olivia was aware every President had followed since the first state dinner. All the guests had to be greeted.
"Shall we?" Working himself between the two ladies once the last guest's hand had been shaken, Fitz offered his other arm to the Prime Minister, escorting both women to their table. Dinner was a relatively uneventful task. There was small talk between the table's occupants. Both Fitz and the Prime Minister gave speeches, proposing toasts. Olivia found that she and the Prime Minister had instantly clicked - chatting over their meals as Fitz watched. Before long, the guests were making their way to the ballroom and a large, live band. After Fitz had gone through the obligatory dance with the Prime Minister, he led Olivia to the dance floor.
Olivia rested her hand in Fitz's, smiling up at him as the first chords of a waltz wafted through the room. Allowing him to take the lead, she followed him throughout the room - twirling and moving her feet. She wasn't a bad dancer, but he was better. Photographers, standing to the side, were busy filming and snapping photos of the couple. Olivia didn't doubt that, come tomorrow morning, their images would be on every magazine and newspaper across the country.
"Thank you for coming tonight."
"Everything's different now."
"Everything is different," he agreed, slowing to a stop as the music faded.
"We're in this together."
"Together."
And, as the sound of cameras clicking reached her ears, Olivia grinned knowing that the image that would grace the newspapers and magazines the next morning was one of him staring at her - only her, hands gripping her hips, and his lips pressed against hers.
A/N - I cannot thank all of you enough! Your reviews are kind and inspiring. Each one has made me cry happy tears and inspired me to keep writing this story. Thank you! - G. xxx