Olivia's POV
My name's Olivia Carolyn Pope-Grant and I'm dying!
No. See, that- that's just a bad introduction. I'm not really dying but it feel pretty close right now. We're gonna try this again and I'm gonna try to be a little less dramatic.
My name is Olivia Carolyn Pope-Grant. I've got a million problems and one man is the source of all of it.
Fitzgerald Thomas Mighty-dick Grant The Third.
Oh, I curse the day that man was born. I curse the first day I met him on that playground at recess in third grade. I curse the day he kissed my lips so damn sweet and made me fall blindly in love with him when we were thirteen. I curse the day he slid between my thighs and took me to heaven because I haven't been able to look back ever since. He fucking ruined me and I'm about the size of a whale at the moment.
Now laying on a pile of fluffy pillows behind my back in excruitiating pain with a stomach the size of the goddamn watermelon, I can't help but wonder how the fuck I'd gotten in the situation I found myself in.
I refuse to blame myself. That night was too good for any blaming but goddamn it, I need someone to blame and it might as well be that dumbass husband of mine. You see, it was one of those nights- after an eighty hour week and way too many glasses of wine, I looked into that man's eyes and like a bitch in heat, I jumped him and ripped his clothes off. It was just pure, raw need and Fitz never being one to refuse me anything ever, picked me up and drilled me against our office walls. Then he did it against twice: on our mahogany work desk. That one was fast and rough. I'd never come harder than I did that night. He was relentless in his pursuit because the next round found me on all four on the floor of our office, his hand wrapped around my throat as he fucked me into oblivion. And God, he did it well. We fucked like animals that night and I might've said I wanted all his babies then.
I spoke that shit into existence and now look at me!
"I WANT DRUGS!" I screamed for the millionth time as a wave of contractions knock the breath out of my lung. "GIVE ME DRUGS!" It's been like this for the past three hours and I swear, that baby is just as stubborn as the both of us already because it refuses to come out into the world.
Labor ain't fun. I'm never having sex again. I'm gonna tell Fitz that it's written, it's law and I've sworn it off cause I don't ever wanna risk going through this again. Just then, I feel another wave that has me arching my back off the bed and blowing off my lungs. I swear to God if I have to endure more of this for another minute, I might just murder somebody. Preferably my husband. Shaking my head, I moan in distress. I can't kill him because if I kill him, our baby will have no parents and I already love that little ass kicker too much to put it through that.
I grabbed Fitz's hand in a death grip and squeezed hard. "Make it stop, baby. MAKE IT STOP!" I begged him.
He looked back at me with those beautiful blue eyes and for some reason, he looked more in pain that I am. He kissed my forehead and rubbed his big, warm hands on my watermelon sized stomach. A little wave of sadness rushed over me as I realize that it's the last time he'll get to do this small intimate gesture before the baby comes. Though I'm currently all kinds of annoyed and in pain, I can't say that I won't miss being pregnant. For my first, as far as pregnancies went, mine was a great one and I've had nine months to get accustomed to this watermelon sized stomach I'm complaining about now.
As if Fitz could tell exactly what I was thinking about, he kissed my forehead and rubbed his hands on my stomach again. It's almost soothing until another contraction hits me and tear coat the corners of my eyes. Mother of all cunts! I don't know how women do it!
My husband always trying to be the best human being offers me a sympathetic smile and reassures me: "Soon Mama. The nurse said she was gonna come back in a few minutes and she will."
A few minutes was about an hour ago to me. I want names and I want everybody in this hospital fired! If I wasn't in so much pain, I would fight all of them my damn self!
"GAAAAAAAAAH! Mother fucker!"
I didn't want to be one of those annoying patients, but today, I was exactly that. I pressed the alert button next to me an obnoxious amount of time because I can't take it anymore. I want those damn drugs and I want them right goddamn now!
…
Fitz's POV
See that bouncy haired, beautiful bombshell on the bed? See her? Yeah, that's my wife. I promise, she's usually nicer when she's not acting like a raging drug addict going through widrawals. Although, I'll be the first to admit that she deserves a break. She's having my baby.
Oh, where the hell are my manners? My name's Fitzgerald Grant and I'm the idiot that knocked her up.
I'm grinning like the idiot I am as I say this. My girl's having my baby and I'm not ready. At least I don't think I should be. I've never done this whole dad thing before but for one reason or another I'm not freaking out like you might think I should be because in this very exact moment, I feel like I was born to witness this day. I've waited nine glorious months to welcome that little sucker into our lives and now that the time has come, I'm exhaustingly impatient. I'm just ready to see his or her face and feel like a whole new different person.
A growling roar from my wife's lips followed by the crushing pressure on my hand brought me back from whatever sappy Disney land world I'd escaped to momentarily. My brows clench together and my nose scrunch up in a pained grimace.
"Oww!" I mumble under my breath.
Olivia flips. Her teeth are gritting and she's seething. "Suck it up! You did this to me!" She barks.
First she's sour, then she's sweet. That's my Livvie for you and I can't even say I'm mad at her for it.
"Yes. Yes I did." I grin as I lean down to kiss her forehead one more time.
Am I just a cynical son of a bitch for being happy about this pain that my wife is currently in? Wait. No. Phrased like this, I'll admit that I do kind of sound like an asshole.
Alright, what I meant to say was that after she works through this pain, something life changing and beautiful is gonna happen. We're gonna be holding a baby- a living, breathing human being that we both created together out of love and passion and he or she is gonna be a mixture of the both of us . That baby's gonna be ours and I think if it requires a little bit of pain to get there, it's kind of worth it, right?
Ah, God! Just thinking about that moment nearing has me wanting to curl up on the floor and weep of joy like a vagina!
But you see, you can't fault me for feeling this way. Liv's very career driven and I love and respect that about her. It's one of the trillion reasons why I love her so damn much. I never wanted her to see having my children as a sacrifice she had to make in order keep me happy in our marriage because it wasn't and I also never wanted her to feel like she wasn't enough for me because she is. So for a long time, I never thought that children were in the cards for me and Olivia. Then six years down the road, (our marriage as strong as ever) I started telling myself that I was okay with the idea of never knowing what it feels like to have something in the world you love more than anything. After all, Liv and I, we lived a fast life. We work excruciatingly long hours and there was no way bringing children into our world would work. I'd given myself every single excuse in the book to make myself believe that it was for the best, but at the end of the day; they were just that. Excuses. Deep down, I think Liv always knew that I was in denial and I didn't care because I thought that my being selfless was the right thing to do. But my God was I wrong because I can't even begin to tell you the joy that filled me up when Liv told me I knocked her up. Till the day I'm buried six feet under, I don't think I'll ever forget that day.
Flashback:
Olivia's definitely not one of those women who find creative ways to reveal life changing news. She's a straight shooter, that woman. I'm talking about dick swinging all up in your face kind of honesty. She tells it like it is. She's all about the truth and sugarcoats nothing, not even to spare your feelings which is why, if you want an honest opinion out of her on anything, brace yourself with a bullet proof suit.
It's a Thursday night and I come home to find my very busy, workaholic wife home before me. Huge fucking deal because as the CEO of Olivia Pope & Associates and the most recommended Fixer in the Big Apple, Olivia works excruciatingly long hours and even when she's not at work, she's at work because her phone is a hotline that never stops ringing. Once the gladiator suit is on, she's a force to be reckoned with and I'm damn proud of her cause my baby slays at what she does. Period.
So anyways, back to my story.
It's a Thursday night, barely ten o'clock and there's my wife home before me in pajamas pacing a fucking hole in our kitchen floor. On sight, I know something's not right. She's on full freaking out mode and I try my best not to jump the gun and go to my grave sooner than I intend to. Slowly, I take in our surroundings as I peel off my jacket and roll up my sleeves and then, it kind of goes quiet for a moment because she stopped pacing just long enough as an acknowledgement to my presence in the room.
"Hi." I greeted.
That's our thing. "Hi" and depends on how it's delivered from either one of us, we just know when things aren't alright or when they're just peachy. It works both ways. Except tonight. For the first time in over twenty years of knowing Olivia, I don't know which one tonight's "Hi" is coming from her when she replied back.
"Livvie…" I proceeded with caution.
She doesn't look at me. Instead, she turns her full attention to a glass of wine sitting on the counter that's filled to the brim, almost spilling over.
Shit!- I thought.- Somebody died.
"Baby, what's wrong?" I asked.
This time, I unbuttoned a few buttons on my shirt and loosened up my tie just in case I start shitting bricks when she finally tells me what the problem is. But still, she continued to ignore me and instead kept staring at the glass of wine as if it held the secret cure to cancer.
Shit! I repeat in my head. At this point, I'm barely keeping my shit together because she's scaring me. This is bad. This is really bad!- It's the only mantra in my head at the moment and it keeps playing like a broken record.
My feet must've grown minds of their own because suddenly, I find myself closer to Liv with hands up trying not to startle her while working my best to get to the root of whatever's going on.
"Livvie, baby… listen to me. Whatever it is, it's all gonna be alright cause I got you, Mama. You just tell me what you need and If I have to commit a few murders here and there to get it for you, I will. I promise I will. Just tell me what you need." As her husband, I feel it's my job to hold down the fort and be strong for her while she can't be. I know it's my duty to slay the dragons, strangle the monsters and tell her that everything is going to be alright even if they won't be. But at this point, I've got nothing to go on because I don't know what the hell is going on yet. I'm just talking out of my ass.
Then, after what seemed to have been an eternity later, Olivia finally mumbled something under her breath. I barely hear her so I have to ask her to repeat for me again.
"I can't drink wine anymore." She said miserably.
Okay. Yep. That's serious.
For those of y'all who don't really know my wife, here's a little "get to know her" lesson. Olivia is a wine lover. It's all she drinks with the exception of a little bit of Chardonnay on occasion but almost always, she's a wine drinker. She's an expert in wine so her not being able to drink wine anymore is a big deal but still, I can't help but release a breath of relief. I hadn't even realized how much of a sweat I'd worked off as I braced myself for the worst.
Silly little woman! If it's a conscious decision, I don't see what the big tragedy is though because I'm just assuming it's one of those things; like she's going on a diet or something and she's backing off the wine. I open my mouth to tell her to chin up or that I'd go off one of my guilty pleasure and do this cleansing shit with her too but she cuts me off.
"…or Shushi." She said. "I've never liked it to begin with, but still, it's definitely on the list of the many things I won't be able to consume." She started pacing again while I tried to catch up.
I shake my head from side to side. There's a fucking list? I huffed. I'm still trynna work it out in my head while also thinking about the stuff I'm gonna have to give up if she gives it up too.
"Can't have coffee either."
Hunh? Now I'm starting to sense a pattern. There's a clog in my brain that won't allow me to figure out what it is quite yet but I know there's a pattern. It's probably because I rely on coffee to feel human every single morning and the thought of having to give it up for a stupid cleanse sounds insane. But I still don't think that's it. My guts says there's a pattern and I should try to figure it out. I'm not that much of an idiot. Only sometimes when I forget to put the toilet seat down but for the most part, I'm pretty smart. I'd like to think so. I'll figure it out. But I don't get the chance to because next I hear; "We're gonna have to move."
Okay. That's when I pop off because hell no! No to the power of N-O! What the hell? No.
I love this house. It's one of the very first things Liv and I invested in together financially. We basically built this house together from the ground up. It did take us about eighteen months of late nights, fucking up and getting it right, eating Chinese food and drinking cheap beer or expensive wine, depending on what the night called for. We both pitched in and made it something we were both proud to call home. I even have a badass man-cave and I didn't have to fight Liv on it. If you ask me, it was one of the many greatest things we worked on together.
No, if not for the man-cave then for the memories because during those eighteen months, we shared some of the best memories together that I treasure close to my heart. This house has witness way too many sessions of hot sex between me and Liv for me to just fold on it without a fight. I'm planting my foot down and I won't budge until I win this round. I may not practice Law in a court room anymore seeing as though I'm the Governor of New York but I did go to Harvard and baby, believe it, I'm a closer.
I scratch my brows and clear my throat in an effort to not come off as passive aggressive because while I'm willing to advocate for this house, I'm also aware that my wife has one hell of a right hand and she ain't afraid to slap me into another nationality if I cross a line.
And just like a coach prepping his team for the football match of the century, I give myself a mental pep talk: Okay. Deep breath. Just try to get your point across without sounding like an asshole. You got this!
"This house is perfect, Livvie." I said. "Why are you talking about moving?"
She stopped pacing and gave me the most serious "what the fuck, dude?" face of the century like I'm supposed to know why we're moving when she hasn't even clued me in on anything as of yet and I stare right back at her with the best "suck my dick!" face I've got cause I'm an idiot and I'll risk the right hand.
"We have to move because we're gonna need more room." She replied.
I can tell the exact moment she put that gladiator suit on and turned into full fixer mode on me. Even after all these years, it still fascinates me how she can just blink or snap her fingers and say a few words and get shit done. I almost hand her the winning crown myself and help her load the big ass truck to our next destination but I close my eyes for a moment and I see the for sale sign on our lawn and our home, the one we built up together go to some stranger who has no idea of the value of it and I snapped out of it. I'm not going down without a fight. No siree, not this time.
"Why?" I asked. "Unless we're suddenly adopting a squad of Golden Retrievers and Beagles I don't know about, I don't think we're gonna 'need more room'." I said all in good humor.
And for a second, I swear to God, I had it. I'd won. We weren't moving for no stupid reason. I could compromise with a renovation/remodeling even if was gonna cost us a shit ton of money if that's what she really wanted, but still, I'd won. We wouldn't be going through the hassle and the stress of looking for a place to make our new home. I'd won!
I was in the middle of my victory dance mentally when suddenly, the most terrifying thing to me happened. Liv burst into tears. I wiped the dumbass smirk that started to form on my lips with the quickness. After, I just stood frozen in place like a cripple because my wife is crying. Like legit tears are running down her beautiful face and it isn't a fucking prank. Just to make sure it wasn't, I look around the house for hidden cameras or some scrawny looking dude with a megawatt smile to come out of nowhere and tell me I'm being punk'ed. And I'll be honest, for a minute there, I waited for that scenario to play out because then, I could punch that idiot in the face and serve Liv a big cup of "Screw You" for scaring me. I waited and that moment never came. Instead, I got more tears and a hysterical wife.
What the fuck?!
"Liv, baby. I'm sorry." I begin to say. "Look, I'm an idiot, okay? We'll move and adopt all the puppies in the world if that's what you want, okay? But you gotta stop crying, Mama. Just… please stop crying." That's it. It only takes one drop of tears for me to cower and let her win. Ain't nothing more to it. She got tears in her eyes. Fuck the house.
I can handle a lot of shit that this life has thrown at me and still yet has to throw at me. I can take it all in with a panty-dropping smile and a sexy stride, no problem. And I got receipt to prove it. I fought a terrible flu once that had come to take me to my grave. No bullshit, I thought my days were numbered when that shit put me in a bed for a full week. And even though it turned me into the biggest bitch baby you could ever imagine, I rose back up and drop kicked that flu's ass where the sun don't shine. Then again, there was that other time I fought a three hundred pounds hillbilly on steroids at a bar and I won even though I walked out with more than a couple cracked ribs and literally couldn't walk straight without limping or the help of a stick for a whole month. Fuck, I rode a mean bull at a rodeo in Texas once too. That bull was the meanest asshole I've ever encountered with in my lifetime for the simple fact that it was a beast. Everybody was afraid of him, and with reasons too, mind you. Every rodeo player that ever rode him are either dead or have never been the same again after riding him. But I took one look in that sonofabitch's eyes in it's cage and decided that he was no match for me. I was gonna ride the fuck out of him if it's the last thing I did and at that point in my life, I was pretty arrogant and didn't care whether I lived or died. I was too busy hitting rock bottom for that. But yes, I rode that bull and did it in front of fifty thousand people on a Saturday afternoon in Austin, Texas for thirty glorious seconds until it threw me fifty feet off my ass and tried to pummel me afterwards. I once again walked away with a little more than a few cracked ribs and a severe concussion that nearly damn gave Olivia a heart attack that day.
Anyways, the point is, I can fucking handle pretty much anything. I'm a real man in that sense but when it comes to Olivia hurting or crying, I can't! She's my baby. She's the dearest thing in this beautifully messed-up world to me and if I could help it, she would have never known what pain is.
"You don't understand!" She yelled.
I'm calm as a lamb but only cause I have to be. She's having some kind of breakdown and I don't think that going off on her too would make the situation any better so I'm calm because I know that she needs me to be.
Quietly, I take one more step towards her until she's in my arms. She doesn't fight me off. Instead, she just melts into my arms and begin sobbing against my chest while my heart continued to break.
I can't wrap my head around it even as I try to soothe her by whispering sweet-nothings in her ears, running my fingers through her hair and my hands up and down her back. She's a mess and I just can't deal. The sight of her crying just doesn't… it doesn't settle well with me. It makes me see red because Liv doesn't just lose it.
This is the same girl who punched me in the face in third grade on the playground when I dared to make fun of her glasses simply because I was too idiotic even then to come out right and tell her that I liked her. Liv is also the same girl that broke into a roller skating rink with me at the crack of dawn to smoke weed because she knew I was working some shit out and needed her. We were just fifteen years old then and she knew what getting caught could do to her good girl posture, but still, she did it for me. She's also the only person on this planet that I can always count on to give me a good ass kicking when I'm in desperate need of it. Even when I broke her heart seven ways till Sunday when we were nineteen years old and decided to go our separate ways after that, she's the girl that still showed up and saved me from myself after the death of my mother. Liv is also the only girl in the world I know who can destroy somebody's whole entire existence in a matter of seconds with just barely few eloquently spoken words, if you cross her or bring harm to anyone she cares about. She can pour the fear of God into the toughest son of a bitch to ever live and this isn't me propping her up because she's my wife. Nope. I've seen that shit happen and quite frankly it scared me too. But even if all the above weren't true, this one is: This woman is the same girl that's put up with my annoying ass for my entire life and still agreed to a lifetime of everything good and bad with me. For richer, for poorer. In sickness and in health. Till death do us part. She agreed to that with me and a woman like that doesn't just cry for no reason. That's fact and I'm happy to sign off on that statement.
A few minutes later, she stopped crying and shoved at my chest but I refuse to let her go. I want to take away all the pain.
"Let me go." She said, voice clear.
I shook my head. "Shut up." I say, tightening my arms around her.
She groaned and attempted to shove me off and escape again but to no avail. So she grew frustrated. "I swear to God, Fitzgerald-"
I snapped because I'm kind of fucking pissed off. She's in no position to threaten me with nothing because she was just crying. Like straight up wailing and sobbing against my chest and I know for a fact that I'm gonna have nightmares about those sounds later. I'm pissed off because she expects me to just let it go like she didn't just scare me to death.
I pushed back far enough so she could see my face and understand that I don't give two anal fucks about her empty threats. Even with dilated lids, puffy brown eyes and dried tears stains on her cheeks, it still blows me away how effortless it is for her to be a Goddess.
I want to kiss those swollen lips of hers and take away the pain the best and only way I know how. I wanna take her to bed and make sweet-sweet love to her until she gets it through that thick fucking brilliant brain of hers that I'm here to stay and that I'm not going anywhere.
But I'm pissed off and I'm not thinking with the right head. So I regroup. I brought a hand to her face and wiped away the drying tears. My feet are planted solid on the floor and my eyes are the color of steel gray.
"Don't fuck with me, Olivia." My voice is firm even though I know that she could literally kill me in our kitchen and get away with it for speaking to her so foully.
I also know that she knows I'm being serious. Yes, I'm pussy whipped. I admit to it proudly, but that fact doesn't strip me off my backbone and Liv doesn't feel the need to emasculate me about it every second of every day. Once I get into Alpha mode, she submits and lets me settle into my role as her man - no muss, no fuss. I know that she knows with the utmost certainty from the look in my eyes that neither one of us are leaving this kitchen tonight until I get some kind of explanation for what the hell just happened.
So she blew out a breath and straightened her back before she looked into my eyes. "We need a bigger house with larger spacing and a backyard. I want it to have it's own room and a playroom also so we can spend time together as a family. Babies need things Fitz and I want ours to have everything! I want our baby to have the happiest childhood… the happiest life."
I'm watching Liv's mouth move. I can hear her voice sounding in my ears but I can't bring myself to really pay attention to her because sometime in between this conversation, I spaced out and only one thing keeps echoing in my head: Our baby. I repeat it several times in my head and each time, the echoing gets louder. Our baby. Our baby. Our baby. My baby. I'm almost deaf by the time the echo stops and that's when I finally got it because that's when it finally registered: me, Liv, and a baby. Family.
I feel everything all at once and the feeling is so overwhelming. I start vibrating and I feel it all the way down to the last fiber of my bones. My heart starts to pump in my chest overtime and the adrenaline rushing through my arteries makes it feel as if it's just gonna pop out of my chest at any given second. My marathon winning legs get weak and suddenly, I'm on my fucking knees and I hear a choir of angels belting out the most amazing lyrics on repeat: You're having a fucking baby! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, congrats!
I feel wetness in my eyes and when I look up at Liv down on my knees, I find her staring back down at me, shaking her head. It's almost déjà vu.
"Don't you dare cry on me, Fitzgerald." She threatened.
Whoops! Too late. The tears are rolling down in waves and I can't stop them and I don't want to. "Livvie…" I whispered.
"Damn you, Fitz!" And then she's crying again. This time they're not terrifying tears. They're joyful tears and I'm okay with that because we're both a damn mess together. My face is literally splitting in half from happiness and I can't help but hug her waist and bury my face under her shirt.
I can't see anything yet. Her stomach is still rock hard and toned. There's no indication that there's a baby growing inside of her but just knowing that there is one is enough for me. I don't even know it yet but I'm already in love with that kid. There's a flame burning in the pit of my stomach and I don't think I've ever felt anything like it in my whole entire life. I'm so happy that I'm half tempted to ask this woman to marry me all over again because shit, I can't believe it. I'm gonna be a father! I press my lips against Olivia's stomach and pray to God that this is real.
I pulled away just for a second to stare up at Liv again and I'm blown to smithereens with how staggeringly beautiful she is. I bring a hand to cup at my jaw as another wave of tears rolls down my face. Holy shit! I'm also grinning like a damn fool but I can't bring myself to stop that either. "A baby…?"
One hand wound fingers through my thick raven curls as the other wipe away my tears. And when my wife leaned down to kiss my lips, she wore a smile. "Yeah. You knocked me up." She murmured. "Congratulations, daddy."
And I guess she knew then that she was happy with that reality because I was over the moon about it. When she's okay, I'm okay. And when I am, she is too. It kind of works both ways.
…
A little while later, we lay in our comfy bed cuddling. The wide flatscreen TV against our wall streamed a late marathon of The Office that neither one of us seemed to be paying much attention to.
I crossed my legs over Liv's thighs under the covers and sighed deeply as I bury my face deeper between her breasts. As usual, she smells delicious. The perfect combination of sweet and savory filled my senses and I can't help the sudden urge to slip in between her thighs and fuck her senseless until the only thing she knows and feels is me and me alone.
But one thought stops be from doing just that. Over the past two-something hours, Liv's stomach had easily become my favorite part of her body. It's also very ironic how that happened so quick because I'm a pussy man first and then, I'm an ass man.
More hilarious is Liv taking ten pregnancy tests because apparently three wasn't enough. She had to make certain that this was indeed real and it's only after the eighth positive that she was convinced. And after thrusting all ten of them in my face so I could see what I did to her in a physical form, I made her lie down so I could explore her stomach. Call it creepy but I'm just a man who's happy that he's going to be a father. And Liv was more than willing.
I don't think I've ever done anything more productive in my life than stare at my pregnant wife's stomach for a half hour because in that very moment, I was a man obsessed. I stared and touched, hoping to see or feel something; anything and when Liv saw how desperate I was, she started laughing at me.
"I won't start to show for a while." She told me. "I'm only five weeks."
Still, I didn't care.
…
I cursed under my breath as I rolled on my side of the bed. Instantly, Liv picked up on my changed mood and climbed on top of me, straddling my waist, cowgirl style.
"What's wrong with you?" She asked.
I shook my head from side-to-side. I don't want to ask her what I know I have to because I might not like the answer she gives me afterwards. And I know too damn well how cowardly of me that is. "Nothing." I replied.
But Liv doesn't buy it for one second. I could never lie to that woman because she can smell bullshit like sharks smell blood and this time wasn't any different.
She doesn't say anything. She just looked down at me with doe brown eyes and suddenly, she reached for the headboard with one hand while the other took residence flatly on my chest. And then she does this thing with her waist- it's slow and delicious. Up and down, she grinds on my dick and her eyes never waver from mine as she does it. It's torture. The most delicious kind.
I groaned in my chest and she bucks down just a little bit harder and a lot slower and I feel my dick rise up like a soldier saluting his Commander in Chief. Aye, Captain!
"What, you think I was born yesterday?" She asked, her rhythm never faltering. She threw her sweet ass back in those perfect little circles and my throat became drier than the Sahara Desert. On top of all that, my dick is so hard, I can't even think straight. "Did you forget how well I know you Fitzgerald?"
Oh no, I sure the fuck haven't forgotten. With her all on my dick like this making me lose the last shreds of my sanity, I know exactly who I'm dealing with and she will make me come seven ways till Sunday just like this until I man up and tell her what's wrong with me.
"What's wrong with you?" She asked again.
I must be a man of strong will power because I managed to swallow through the dryness in my throat and moan through the movements happening on my dick long enough to answer her. "I don't wanna say."
That doesn't throw her off at all. Instead, she leans down with her eyes still open and suck my lower lip into her mouth. I'm panting like a bitch in heat. My hands are free and I guess I could stop her hips from moving but I don't want to because I wanna burry my cock so deep inside her and fuck her until I don't know where I begin and she ends. I know she won't let me touch her until she makes me spill it out so this, her grinding on my dick is almost a relief as much as it is torture. Hands at my side, I let her have full control because I know once I get my hands on her, I'm gonna flip her on all four, grab a fistful of her hair and fuck her unconscious. And I most definitely will be bruising that luscious ass. So for now, she has the control. She knows me all too well and that's why she's enjoying this so much. I allow her full access of my mouth without a fight and because she finds it too easy, she starves me of the delicious warmth of her tongue. She teased my mouth until I begged and then finally… finally she kisses me and it's everything just as much as it's not enough. Her hips buck as her tongue fucks my mouth. I plead for more. Demanded. And she gives. Our teeth clash, our breath in sync and our tongues are entwined. I take some control by biting on that luscious lower lip of hers and sooth the sting with a lick of my tongue. She smiled against my lips and pulled away. I'm left hanging dry and just when I think she's done with me, she buries her face in the crook of my neck and bites… hard. A breath whooshed out of my lungs as the pain blends in perfectly with the pleasure and I almost snapped but her reflexes are quick and she grabbed my hands just in time and clasped them over my head against the headboard. I think I'm dying. She's gonna kill me. Then she's raining soft little kisses up my neck until she reached the sweet stop behind my ear. Her breath caressed my earlobe and formed goosebumps on my skin that sent an electrifying shudder rushing down my spine. And then she's licking the spot, her tongue going in tune with her circling hips.
"I don't give a monkey's left nut about what you don't wanna say." She whispers in my ear.
See, that right there is Olivia Pope in full southern colors. Even though she grew up in the city, my girl's a southern country girl from Louisiana. The slapping me into another nationality thing all stem up from the simple fact that she has the balls to do it and if she says she will, she shall. And sometimes, when she's mad enough, that cute little accent is there.
I gasped and she pulled away smirking. "Spill it, Grant."
I recognize game when I see it and this round…it goes to her fair and square.
She released my hands and climbed off me into a kneeling position and then her sneaky fingers are reaching in my boxers to finish off what she started. But I don't give her the satisfaction because I want her punishment to be just as sweet when I bring her to my knees in just a minute.
But first, I got some shit to spill.
"Do you not want the baby?" I asked. All of the sudden I'm so vulnerable and my heart rate is speeding off because what I said about not wanting Olivia to think about having my children as a sacrifice is true and if that's not something she wants… if a baby is truly not in the cards for her, I'm gonna have to accept that because even though it would absolutely break my heart, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I somehow guilt her into having a baby that she doesn't want. "Are you happy about the baby?"
First, I'm met with a look of utter confusion which soon transformed into sadness and then I see anger.
Yep, I definitely see red. We went over this already. Sometimes I'm an idiot and y'all are going to have to forgive me several times.
"Is that a serious question, Fitz?" She replied.
I nodded. Yes it's a serious question. Otherwise, why would I bother asking it? "You asked what was wrong and this is it." I told her. "Is this something you really want?"
"Why wouldn't it be?" She's not exactly answering me with a definitive 'yes' or a conclusive 'no' and with every second that goes by, I feel my stomach drop further to China.
"Because you love your job." My answer came with a shrug.
Liv smiled. "I do love my job." She replied. "But I love you more, you idiot. Ain't nothing more to it. I'd be lying to you if I said that the reason I lost it a little bit earlier wasn't because I was scared. I'm fucking terrified! Terrified that I will fuck this kid up, terrified that I won't be the mother that it deserves because I work so damn much, terrified that I won't know how to do any of this. But none of that's got nothin' to do with me not wanting it, alright?"
My heart is still drumming in my chest but relief found me after her statement. With a nod, I smiled back at her. "I'll be there, y'know that right?"
"I know." She grinned. "We made a baby together, Fitz!" She suddenly exclaimed as if it just registered for her too. "A human being… that… that's…"
And that's when I saw it on her face. She wants my baby. She wants our baby and there was never any doubt about it. I see the terror that she talked about under the surface but beneath that, is also so much happiness.
"C'mere." I beckoned.
She climbed back on top of me and straddled my waist. She looked down at me and the glow on her face is so evident as she stroked my stubbly face. Leaning down, she started raining soft little kisses across my face, down my jaw, my neck until she worked her way up to my ears. "I. Want. Your. Baby."
That was music to my ears. All my worries- erased. I was just happy and I still had one raging boner.
"Kiss me." She does and I dip my hands inside her panties to palm her luscious ass. I moan in her mouth, her tongue having me ready to confess and agree to everything she might ask. I squeeze her ass and push her soaked pussy down on my hard dick.
"Ah…" She gasped and dug her fingers through the blade of my collarbone. "Fuck! Take it off and fuck me."
I grab a fistful of her hair and we break the kiss. We're both breathless and so aroused. Her brown eyes are now a stunning café noir glowing with lust and desire. All for me and my God, she's gorgeous. I'm all over her again in seconds, my mouth drinking from her delicious, swollen lips as I sit up on the bed with her. Her mile-long legs are wrapped around my waist and she threw her head back as I kiss my way down her neck.
"Fitz…" She hissed.
I hear the desperation; the wanting in her voice and because I'm a smug asshole, I can't help how pleased it makes me feel as I dig my teeth into the pulse of her neck. In response, I'm rewarded with an incredible sound. It's a mixture of a gasp and a whimper followed by a groaned, "fuck." She's completely surrendered and at my mercy to do with her whatever I please and with that in my mind, I take the opportunity to flip us over- her beneath me and me on top of her looking into her stunned eyes.
"Hi." I whisper.
"Hi." She smiled, her fingers going through my hair as our lips meet again. "Fuck me."
I laughed at how forward she gets when she becomes impatient. I stroke her hair and peck her cute little nose. "I have every intention of fucking you, sweetheart." I tell her. "But first, my tongue has a close up, one-on-one with that sweet pussy of yours."
My teeth had barely grazed the apex of her thigh when she grabbed my pillow and pressed it over her face. It's needless to say that neither of us got much sleep until the wee hour of dawn. We had a marathon of fucking, making love, fucking again and then some. We fell asleep spent, and sated. Entwined in each other, we were closer and happier than we've ever been.
We were having a baby. It didn't get anymore perfect than that.