"I just don't get what one person needs with all this space." Olivia harped, following Fitz out of his private study.
He was currently giving her a tour of his mansion.
After they had finished dessert, Fitz asked her if she would like to see the rest of his home as she was preparing to leave. He didn't want her to go yet, so he offered to give her a tour to delay her inevitable departure.
To both of their surprise, it took little coaxing on his part. Olivia was genuinely enjoying herself, and if she were being honest, she didn't want the evening to end just yet either. So she accepted.
Fitz was easy to talk to, a great listener, and open-minded. Strangely, he seemed to be in perfect sync with Olivia, attuned to the same wavelength. His laid-back demeanor served as the ideal counterbalance to her strong, assertive personality. Yet, despite his mellow nature, he was far from a pushover. He held his own, trading witty quips with her and never shying away from a well-aimed insult, even laughing along when she landed a good one.
In addition to their puckish, sometimes dry, sense of humor, they had some other things in common: immense pride and love for Boston and its sports teams, a deep hatred for the Yankees, a mutual appreciation for mystery and thriller stories, a fondness for classic Motown music, and a preference for writing by hand over typing… to name a few.
Fitz already took Olivia through the first two levels of his mansion, starting with the main floor. The formal living room was their first stop, where tasteful furnishings framed a stately fireplace. Next was the den, a homey hideaway with plush seating, a wall of books, and a large TV. Subsequently, he showed her a sequestered guest suite, followed by a polished yet practical mudroom and a well-appointed laundry room on their way down to the finished basement.
It resembled a luxury retreat that blended relaxation, entertainment, and fitness. Connected to the house yet distinctly separate from the rest of the basement, the indoor spa occupied its own serene space. Behind a glass partition, its tranquil blue waters simmered under soft, ambient lighting. Adjacent to the pool, a lounge area was established with water-resistant furniture. A sauna offered a quiet sanctuary for relaxation. A poolside half-bath added convenience, while a mounted television ensured entertainment was always within reach, completing the lavish, resort-like atmosphere.
The adjoining room was a gym, outfitted with top-of-the-line cardio machines, weights, and mirrored walls. A juice bar was tucked into one corner and completed the fitness haven, offering refreshing post-workout options. Beyond the gym, the recreation room awaited, designed for ultimate entertainment. It featured a pool table, a poker table, a bar, and multiple TV screens for the occasional guys' night with his buddies. There was also a state-of-the-art media room with soundproof walls and plush, tiered seating for an immersive viewing experience. The basement tour concluded with another guest bedroom, after which Fitz and Olivia headed back upstairs to the garage.
Olivia was stunned by his fleet of luxury cars, most notably a dark charcoal and black Rolls Royce Wraith, an arctic white Rolls Royce Spectre, a cobalt blue and silver Rolls Royce Dawn, a cerulean blue Lamborghini Huracán, a Celtic green Lamborghini Revuelto, a dark gray Bentley Bentayga, a matte black Ferrari 296 GTB, and a blacked out Range Rover.
"What's the point of having all these cars if you can't even drive them?" she asked, her tone dripping with judgment. "Isn't there some kind of rule about not putting yourself in danger?"
Fitz casually leaned against the Range Rover. "Technically, I am allowed to drive myself, but you're right, it's against protocol. High-level government officials are supposed to avoid driving in public due to security threats, media distractions, tradition, and all that stuff. I often use chauffeurs and state vehicles, but I tend to break the rules more."
"Okay, but again, you have one ass. You don't need all these cars."
Fitz shrugged, "I like variety."
Olivia snorted. "Or you're overcompensating…" She glanced at his crotch. "…for your inadequacies. Or maybe you're going through a midlife crisis. You're at that age."
Fitz grinned with no rebuttal. All of the responses he thought of were inappropriate to say to a formal guest. If she were his informal, "overnight" guest, then he would have shown her that he was in fact very adequate.
Maybe that was what Olivia secretly wanted since this was the second time today she brought it up, alluding that it was small. It was almost like she was daring him to whip it out and prove her wrong. He wasn't going to though. Not unless she asked for it and knowing her, she would never do that.
After Olivia finished both deploring his superfluous lifestyle and secretly marveling at the sheer opulence of his car collection, Fitz led her upstairs in the elevator, explaining it was used mainly by his staff. He didn't want them struggling with stairs while carrying heavy loads or managing daily tasks. The elevator was a practical addition to make life easier for everyone, from deliveries to chores. Fitz valued efficiency and didn't see the point in making his staff endure extra hassle.
The upstairs tour began with the secondary living room—a cozy and inviting space with a large sectional and TV, perfect for unwinding. Then came four guest bedrooms, each uniquely styled, three of which had their own en-suite bathrooms.
From a shared balcony, Fitz showed her the expansive backyard, where an Olympic-sized pool with a connecting hot tub, a fully equipped outdoor kitchen, a furnished patio, and a sunken lounge awaited. A multi-purpose court, used primarily for basketball and tennis, sat nearby, and in the distance, a guest house loomed larger than many average size family homes.
Finally, Fitz led her to his study, a room defined by rich wood furniture with modern lines, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and a leather chair positioned by a large window that also offered a sweeping view of the backyard.
"I used to live in a penthouse downtown before I was elected governor," Fitz revealed. "I sold it during my first campaign because Cyrus and my father kept pressuring me. They insisted a bachelor pad wouldn't look right for my image. They said I needed a home my future wife and I could fill with a bunch of kids—or, 'the Grant heirs,' as my father likes to call them." Fitz snorted, rolling his eyes. Olivia detected a touch of bitterness infused in his tone.
"Do you always do what they tell you to?" Olivia asked curiously.
"If I did, you wouldn't be here right now, and I'd have at least four little Grants running from their overworked but well-paid nanny while they're snob of a mother was off at some country club, sipping tea and gossiping with her equally insufferable girlfriends." Though his voice was playful, each word carried an unmistakable undercurrent of contempt.
Olivia couldn't help but wonder if he secretly resented his life, trapped in a sticky web of others' expectations and self-serving agendas. On the surface, he seemed content, but their conversations suggested something else—perhaps dissatisfaction he expertly concealed. He was a politician, after all, and a damn good one. Olivia pondered if politics was his true calling or merely another part of his life orchestrated by his father, who was trying to live vicariously through him.
She thought of her own struggles with an absent parent, and decided she'd take that over being suffocated by an overbearing one whose love came with conditions.
That train of thought led her to remember an observation she made earlier—there were very few photos in his home. She hadn't noticed initially, but when she spotted a framed picture on the mantel in his den, she became more attentive. As they moved from room to room, Olivia began paying attention to the sparse photos displayed. Most were of Fitz at various stages of his life—childhood, college, his stint in the Navy, and now as Governor. But there was one recurring image: a stunning woman, often beside him. She bore a strong resemblance to Fitz, and if Olivia had to guess, she'd say it was his late mother.
The absence of personal or family moments only made those few photos stand out more, offering Olivia a rare and deeper glimpse into Fitz's life.
"Miss Pope?" Fitz's voice reached Olivia faintly, sounding distant at first. He had been walking a few steps ahead of her but paused when her abrupt silence signaled she'd retreated into her thoughts. His voice grew louder and more insistent, pulling her back to the present. "Miss Pope!" He repeated, snapping his fingers directly in her face to fully regain her attention.
Olivia's nose scrunched at the sight of his fingers all up in her mug. "Ew, get your nasty fingers out my face." She batted them away. "I don't know where they've been."
"I can tell you where they want to go." Fitz replied with a sly grin.
"Ha! No thanks. Is this tour over or is there more of your not so humble abode you want to show me?"
Fitz's gaze instinctively darted toward the closed double doors at the end of the hall, however, he quickly looked away, redirecting his attention elsewhere. He had purposely skipped that room because he worried it might give her the wrong idea about his intentions and make her uncomfortable.
He hoped Olivia hadn't noticed his brief lapse, but as luck would have it, she did. She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes landing on the taupe doors for the first time. They blended so seamlessly with the walls that it was easy to overlook them.
"What's down there?" Olivia asked, already making her way toward the doors.
Fitz impulsively reached out and touched her arm, halting her. "You don't want to go in there," he said quickly, trying to sound normal despite the slight panic stirring inside him. "It's the least exciting room in the house."
He waved it off dismissively, hoping to defuse her curiosity. But his attempt only made Olivia more intrigued.
"Is it your sex dungeon?" She asked with a playful lilt.
Fitz let go of her arm and smirked. "Something like that."
"Now I really gotta see it!" Olivia exclaimed.
"That would be highly inappropriate, Miss Pope. Have you forgotten that you are here for business, not pleasure?"
Olivia returned his smirk, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "This is business." Fitz tilted his head, confused. "Blackmail," she added with a devilish grin.
Before he could stop her, she dashed down the hall and flung open the double doors. Her smile quickly faded as she took in the room, her bewilderment evident. It was nothing like what she had imagined.
Fitz stopped beside her, his lips pressed together, trying to stifle an audible snicker.
"This is your bedroom." She stated flatly, disappointed.
Fitz couldn't hold it in any longer and broke out in laughter, the sound rumbling.
He wasn't Christian Grey. He didn't have a "Red Room" full of sex toys. While he enjoyed exploring kink, he liked to get creative with everyday objects, finding excitement in the unexpected and turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.
"You are very percipient, Miss Pope."
It suddenly struck her that, throughout the entire tour, she hadn't once thought about his bedroom. There was no clear reason for it—perhaps she'd been too absorbed in the overall splendor of the place to even consider it.
Olivia gave him a side-eye before fully stepping into the room, commencing her exploration. Fitz closed the doors and followed her at a respectful distance.
The bedroom was dimly lit—soft flickers of firelight danced across it—and struck a wonderful mix between comfort and style. Its centerpiece was a California King sleigh bed elevated on a short platform and draped in designer bedding. A spacious sitting area provided a nice spot to lounge, while a TV was seamlessly integrated into a media wall above a crackling fireplace.
French doors, framed with thick curtains, opened onto a private balcony—an ideal place for peaceful solitude or intimate gatherings.
The walk-in closet resembled a high-end boutique, with neatly arranged suits, casual wear, and shoes. The lighting was soft but precise, highlighting the meticulously arranged collection of clothing with an almost museum-like reverence. An island stood in the center, where Fitz's accessories were stored, while an ottoman sat nearby for moments of pause or contemplation.
The en-suite bathroom was equally impressive, featuring marble countertops, his and her vanities, an enormous drop-in tub connected to short steps that led to a large modern shower with a digital multi-jet shower system.
"Why did you call this the least exciting room?" Olivia eventually asked.
"Because it doesn't see much action… at least not from me." Fitz replied. "My housekeeper is the only other person who comes in here."
"You think she's been getting busy with the gardener while you're at work?" Olivia teased.
Fitz grimaced at the mental image of his middle-aged housekeeper and gardener rolling around in his bed, sweaty and naked. "God, I hope not," he muttered, horrified by the thought.
A framed photo on the media wall caught her eye, and she picked it up. It was a portrait of the same woman from the pictures she saw earlier.
"Is this your mom?"
Fitz came up behind her, hands in pocket, and looked over her shoulder at the photo.
"Yeah." He replied softly.
"She's gorgeous…" Olivia remarked, not just talking about her appearance. Even through a still image, it was evident his mother had a beautiful and kind soul.
"She was." Fitz agreed, his tone tinged with nostalgia.
Olivia gently set the photo of his mother back down and picked up another one. It was a shot of a young Fitz, grinning ear to ear while his mother enveloped him in a warm embrace.
"You look a lot like her."
Fitz snorted, "I definitely have her nose and ears, but unfortunately I inherited more than just my name from my father."
"You don't like him very much, huh?"
"He's my father. I love him." Fitz sighed. "I just wish he cared about something other than the Grant legacy."
Olivia placed the photo back on the shelf, and her hand froze when she felt a subtle shift in the air. She knew Fitz was standing behind her, but now she could sense the heat radiating from his body.
Fitz had stepped closer to her, leaving less than an inch of space between them. With his hands still tucked deeply in his pockets, he towered over her. He craned his neck down in a 45 angle, and his warm breath tickled her ear as he spoke in a low, husky voice, "I never realized how short you are."
Olivia gulped and turned around slowly, her front grazing his as she did. He was standing entirely too close for comfort, but it wasn't the proximity that made her feel uneasy. It was the unsettling awareness that if he made a move, she wouldn't try to stop him.
When Olivia found the courage to look into his eyes, she inhaled sharply, noticing they had changed colors. They no longer appeared baby blue but something darker—smoky blue with gray undertones—revealing the storm of desire brewing within him.
"Governor Grant…" She began in a shaky voice.
Fitz scoffed, "You can cut the 'Governor Grant' crap, Olivia. We're standing in my bedroom for Christ's sake."
Olivia shuddered at his use of her name. It was the first time he said it, and she liked how it sounded on his fluent tongue.
"Say my name." He urged in a softer tone, taking a small step forward so their bodies were flushed together and his stiffening erection was pressing into her belly.
Olivia gasped and stammered, "I–I should go." However, she remained rooted in place, her feet unwilling to move.
"Or you could stay." Fitz suggested, a sinful glint in his eyes as he flashed her a dangerously charming smile.
Olivia shook her head, "That's not a good idea," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"If you're afraid I'm going to kill you, don't be. If anything, I should be the scared one. You'd probably try to screw the life out of me but only manage to put me into a deep sleep. Then, you'd smother me with a pillow, finishing the job." Fitz joked.
Olivia laughed. Some of the tension in her body alleviated thanks to his humor.
"That is oddly specific." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't know if I should be creeped out or amused at the fact you thought of scenarios in which I off you? What's this one called… seduction followed by murder?"
Fitz chuckled, "You are unpredictable. I need to be prepared." He defended himself. "If I'm going out, I might as well do it with a bang." Olivia opened her mouth to make a smart remark, but Fitz beat her to it, already anticipating what she was going to say. "And I don't mean by gunshot."
Olivia grinned. He already knew her so well.
"Or a damn stapler, for that matter." Fitz continued.
Olivia rolled her eyes, despite the smile on her face. He was never going to get over the stapler incident.
"I'm proud of that. Stop being petty." She jested, unapologetic and unashamed.
Fitz's expression shifted back to one of lust, his eyes darkening as a tinge of seriousness crept into his features. The playful moment faded, replaced by an intensity that spoke volumes about his intentions.
"Say my name, Olivia." He repeated, almost imploring.
Olivia hesitated, her heart racing in her chest. A long beat passed, and the words still wouldn't come out. Fitz let out a quiet and disappointed sigh. Just as he began to move away from her, Olivia whispered, barely audible, "Fitz."
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He leaned in, his gaze flickering from her doe eyes to her slightly parted lips. Olivia's breath caught in her throat as his face neared hers. Her eyes fluttered closed, waiting for his lips to touch hers.
But they didn't.
Instead, she felt the faintest brush of his breath, leaving her yearning for more. Olivia opened her eyes, confusion etching her features. Fitz met her gaze, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"I won't kiss you until you give me permission," he whispered, his voice rich with unspoken promise.
His patience and sincerity dissipated the last of Olivia's reservations. She tilted her face upward, allowing her lips to brush against his. The soft, fleeting contact sent a wave of warmth through them both.
Fitz's left hand cupped her right cheek. He paused, giving her time to decide whether to pull away or lean in fully. His thumb traced the curve of her jaw as his gaze searched hers for consent. He didn't rush her. He didn't push. He waited meekly, his breath mingling with hers, making it clear that whatever happened next was up to her, and he would respect her decision.
Time seemed to slow as the air around them thickened with anticipation.
Olivia braced tentative hands on his broad shoulders and stood on the tips of her toes. Fitz secured his arms around her slender waist, holding her firmly to keep her steady.
Olivia cradled the back of his head, threading her fingers through his trimmed, silky strands, and pulled his face down to hers. She pressed her lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. Her pillowy lips were softer than he imagined.
What started off as languid pecks quickly turned into hungry kisses. The sound of their lips smacking resounded through the otherwise quiet room.
One of Fitz's hands slid to the exposed small of Olivia's back. Her sweater had rode up some when she wrapped an arm around his neck. His other hand found the hair clip at the back of her head and released it. In an instant, her natural curls tumbled down in a cascade of thick, springy coils. He combed his fingers through her dense forest of ringlets.
Olivia's breath hitched when Fitz fisted her hair and gently tugged her head back, exposing her neck. He nuzzled a few of her unruly curls out the way with his nose, then proceeded to pepper open mouth kisses on her neck.
"That feels good." Olivia admitted in a breathy voice that was unfamiliar to her.
Fitz hummed softly in response, sending vibrations through her body. Olivia's sweet touch, intoxicating taste, and alluring scent overwhelmed his senses, pushing him to the brink of sensory overload. When he ran his tongue along her pulse point and sucked on it, she emitted a lusty, uncontainable moan as her pussy quivered. Her arousal seeped out of her, dampening her panties.
"Oohh!"
Fitz smirked smugly against her neck, loving the way she reacted to him. He intended to further exploit this particular erogenous zone of hers later on, when he was hopefully pounding her through his mattress. In the meantime, he was going to tease her. He alternated between kissing, licking, and sucking her delectable neck.
Olivia's grip on his hair tightened and she pulled his face so close that his oxygen supply was effectively being cut off. Maybe this was how she planned to take him out. He wouldn't mind dying pleasuring her, but he at least wanted to give her an orgasm before that happened.
"F–Fitz… p–please." Olivia choked out.
"What are you asking for, Livvie?" Fitz mumbled, his words muffled by her neck.
"Touch me."
Fitz lifted his head, and their eyes met briefly before he dipped his head, recapturing her mouth in a deep, searing kiss.
His hands began a careful exploration, tracing the contours of her body. Palms glided along her waist, fingers spreading to map her curves through the fabric of her clothes. He drew her closer. Each touch was a deliberate study—measured and amatory—sliding along her sides, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. He traced the line of her spine, then moved to her shoulders.
His hands fell to the hem of her sweater and cautiously slipped underneath it, encountering the warmth of her bare skin. His palms roamed the smooth expanse of her back, occasionally grazing her bra hook. Olivia arched into him, silently begging for more. Fitz groaned as she rubbed against his boner.
He was doing his damndest to take things slow because he didn't know how far Olivia was willing to go. She hadn't touched him anywhere below his shoulders or even attempted to, so he was hesitant to make any bold moves. He knew where he really wanted to touch her and what he really wanted to do to her, but he wasn't sure she wanted those same things.
He would honestly be fine if all they ended up doing was some heavy petting. It would be a whole lot more than he expected, which was nothing. Tonight was only supposed to be about business, and he honored that. Though he flirted with her a little throughout their dinner, it was in good fun and sporadic. Overall, he remained professional because he genuinely wanted to help mitigate urban blight. That wouldn't change, regardless if Olivia chose to sleep with him or not.
Despite giving him the greenlight, Fitz still treaded carefully as he entered uncharted territory with her. He warily grabbed the hem of her sweater and dragged it up her torso. Olivia lifted her arms and allowed him to remove her top. He dropped it on a nearby transitional chair.
Fitz's hooded eyes were immediately drawn to her solid, seaweed green demi-bra pushing up her cleavage, making it look full as the tops of her breasts overflowed the half cups. Fitz swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as his mouth suddenly became dry and the primal need to devour her succulent breasts grew increasingly irrepressible.
Olivia shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze and rose back on her tippy toes. She clasped the nape of his neck and sucked on his bottom lip. Fitz hissed when she nipped his lip, however, she quickly licked the sting away at the same time her fingernails grazed his nape, eliciting a groan from him. Olivia took advantage of the opportunity and stuck her tongue through his parted lips, into his mouth.
Fitz responded eagerly, and their tongues intertwined in a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and intuitive. His hands returned to her body and paused at her bra clasp. He played with it, debating whether or not he should unfasten it. Olivia gave him permission to run his hands over her body and let him remove her top—surely that meant she wanted him to take things up a notch… right?
Do it! Do it! Fitz mentally chanted to himself and with a practiced flick, he unclasped her bra and raked its straps down her arms.
Olivia's eyes flew open, and she shoved him back a step, breaking their heated liplock. She covered her heaving chest with her arms to prevent her bra from falling off. She stared up at him with wide eyes.
He wore an apologetic expression, his eyes fraught with guilt and regret.
"Olivia, I am so sorry. I didn't mean—I thought you wanted me to—" His broken apology died on his lips when Olivia unexpectedly let her bra fall to the floor.
Fitz only caught a quick flash of her breasts before she hastily covered them with her arms. He was certain she was either going to slap the hell out of him or high-tail it out of there—or perhaps both. However, he was pleasantly surprised and overjoyed by the turn of events.
In general, Olivia was a confident woman, but she also had plenty of insecurities—her breasts being one of them. She was nervous that he would be instantly turned off once he saw them. Her ego and pride wanted to spare her the insult and injury.
It dawned on Fitz that she didn't push him away because he'd done something wrong or she changed her mind upon realizing that he wasn't deserving of her. She pushed him away because she was self-conscious. She was afraid to let him see her.
Fitz bridged the small gap between them and rested his hands on her hips, squeezing them gently. "I only know the real Olivia Pope. That's the only version of you that I ever want to see." He spoke earnestly.
He refused to accept anything less than her authentic self. He didn't want to see what she thought he wanted or what she wanted him to. He wanted her just as she was, flaws and all. Her imperfections were part of what made her unique and real.
Fitz's reassuring words were exactly what Olivia needed to hear. Emboldened by them, she lowered her arms to her sides, finally baring her breasts to him. Yet, Fitz's gaze never wavered from hers. He didn't glance away or let his eyes betray his chivalry. Olivia couldn't help but admire his restraint and his ability to regard her as more than just a sexual object. No matter the circumstance, to him, she was a person of depth and value who he respected profoundly and wholeheartedly.
"You can look." She shyly authorized, blushing.
Fitz hesitated, then looked down at her breasts. They were on the smaller side and bell-shaped, with a natural sag. Her dark nipples reminded him of mini Hershey kisses, sticking out invitingly against her skin. While her breasts weren't the best he'd seen, Fitz found them undeniably beautiful in their realness.
In his world of carefully curated appearances, he was accustomed to being with women who boasted their flawless, silicone-enhanced chests. Many of the men he associated with liked playing with plastic dolls, but Fitz preferred an all natural woman, though his track record didn't always reflect that.
Olivia fought the urge to cover herself once more, deliberately avoiding his gaze. The thought of seeing any hint of repulsion in his eyes was unbearable. Fitz could clearly see her inner turmoil, evident in her tense posture and the way her body seemed to shrink inward. He watched her struggle with her vulnerability.
"Yah so fuckin' gawjus." He stated frankly, his voice thick with desire, forcing her out of her spiraling thoughts. His Boston accent slipped through, adding a raw intensity to the words as he peered at her, completely captivated by her presence. "May I?"
Olivia wasn't sure what he was asking, but she nodded anyway.
His lips were on hers again and his hands cupped her glorious breasts. He fondled them while his thumbs massaged her tight nipples like analog sticks on a game controller. Olivia gripped his arms and moaned. Fitz plunged his tongue into her mouth.
Her flesh was hot and velvety under his gentle touch, and as much as she was thoroughly enjoying being felt up, she was curious to find out if his lips felt as good on her chest as they did on her neck.
It was almost like Fitz read her mind because not even a second later, he tore his lips from hers and began trailing amorous kisses along her cheek and down the side of her neck. He lingered on a sensitive spot just below her earlobe, savoring the way her breath quickened in response to his ministrations. His knees bent as his kisses continued to her clavicle and finally descended to her bosom. His lips ghosted over her sensitive nipples as he delicately blew on them.
"Fitz." Olivia whimpered.
"Patience, Livvie." Fitz breathed soothingly against her left nipple before sucking it into his mouth, giving her what she wanted.
He swirled the tip of his tongue around her pert bud and flicked it. He caught her off guard when his teeth came down on it, nipping it.
"Ouch!" Olivia exclaimed, smacking his shoulder. "What the hell!?"
"That's for biting my lip." Fitz mumbled around her nipple and suckled hard on it.
His other hand continued to knead her right boob, pinching and rolling her nipple between his fingers. Olivia drew in a breath and ran her fingers through his short curls that resembled little tidal waves. She grasped a fistful of them and guided Fitz's mouth to her right nipple. For the next couple of minutes, his mouth and hands took turns stimulating her luscious globes.
Olivia arched her back and breathlessly requested, "More…"
Fitz happily obliged. It was a bit challenging to do with only one hand but he successfully unbuttoned and unzipped her jeggings.
"Mm… Fitz, wait."
She grabbed his wrist, stopping his fingers from slipping inside her panties. Fitz released her nipple with a low "pop" and groaned into her cleavage.
Olivia hated to interrupt him again, and wouldn't—couldn't—get in her feelings if he decided to send her on her way. He was a lot more patient than Edison and was fine moving at a pace that was comfortable for her. That was clear judging from the state they were in. She was only half-naked and he was fully dressed, sporting a prominent hard-on that she'd bet was painful given the way it strained against the front of his pants.
"I um…" She became flustered and buried her face in her hands, causing Fitz to stand to his full stature. "God this is so embarrassing." She chuckled nervously.
Fitz lowered her hands from her face and placed a finger under her chin to make her look at him.
"Livvie, what's wrong?" He asked, stroking her cheek tenderly.
"I…" She took a deep breath and admitted sheepishly, "I wasn't expecting for this to happen."
"O–kay." Fitz said slowly, looking confused. "Do you want to stop?"
Olivia shook her head.
"That's not what I'm…" She sighed and in one breath, blurted out, "I didn't shave."
Fitz's mouth hung open at her unexpected confession. It took him a moment to process what she just told him. A slow grin spread across his face. Olivia was too engaged in her rambling to notice his amusement.
"I'm not rocking a bush or anything like that, but it is… fuzzy. And my panties aren't exactly sexy—"
Fitz's laughter promptly shut her up, and she glared at him, under the assumption that he was laughing at her. He ignored the dirty look she shot him.
"Olivia, I am a grown man." He stated simply. "I don't give a rat's ass if you have a jungle down there. I damn sure don't care what kind of underwear you have on."
He didn't know anything about Olivia's dating history, but he suspected she was used to dealing with superficial douchebags. Body hair was a natural part of being human and as far as Fitz was concerned, underwear was like wrapping paper that concealed the actual gift.
Olivia giggled at his response. It was a testament to his maturity: accepting, genuine, and refreshingly real. Yeah, she wanted him bad.
"I know dat's right, Governor. Talk yo shit."
Fitz chuckled confusedly, not quite sure what she meant. Olivia peeped his expression and shook her head.
"Nevermind."
"We're good so long as you're not wearing a diaper. That, I might have trouble overlooking," he added, half-serious, half-joking.
"And you wonder why I hate you." Olivia huffed with an eye roll.
"We both know that's not true." Fitz replied, unbothered. "If there is anything else you think I should know, please tell me now because I don't think my… appendage can handle another delay of game." Olivia raised a brow. "Don't judge my choice of wording. All my blood is rushing south."
"Okay, there is one more thing."
Fitz sighed, restraining his (sexual) frustration. "Yes?"
"Your voice sounds vaguely similar to the actor who played Tarzan in the Disney animated movie." Olivia deadpanned.
Fitz gaped at her for a moment before…
"Fitz!" Olivia shrieked in surprise.
Without warning, Fitz hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and playfully smacked her ass. Olivia dissolved into laughter as he dramatically but effortlessly carried her over to his bed. With a grunt, he dropped her on it—her breasts slightly bouncing.
"That was so uncalled fo–ooohhh shiiittt!" Olivia's shit talking was replaced by a contented moan when her back sank into the bed's plush softness.
"Comfortable?" Fitz asked with a proud, knowing smirk.
"I don't think there's a word to describe this feeling." Olivia said, sprawled out like a starfish, wiggling slightly, testing out its dreaminess.
Fitz watched her, thoroughly amused. She looked so small on it, like someone adrift in the middle of the endless sea.
"You know you are lying on a thirty thousand dollar orthopedic mattress, specially designed by the world-renowned Doctor Jisun Yoon of South Korea." He bragged.
Olivia lifted her head and squinted her eyes at him. "You paid thirty grand for a bed?" She asked incredulously.
Fitz nodded. "I did."
Olivia laid back down. "I wanna give you an earful for spending obscene amounts of money on frivolous things, but this was actually a good purchase so I'll refrain this time." She turned on her side and closed her eyes. "I could fall asleep right now."
Yeah, there was no way Fitz was letting that happen… not before she shredded his sheets as he brought her to earth-shattering orgasms with his mouth and dick.
Fitz extended his long body over hers, grasped her shoulder, and flipped her onto her back.
"Let me tuck you in first."
He straightened back up and took off her boots—the right, then the left. He reached for the waistband of her pants, but waited until Olivia nodded and lifted her hips before he tugged them down her legs along with her panties. They landed on the floor next to his feet. Her crazy socks also came off with her bottoms, hidden somewhere in the small pile.
Olivia now laid before him stark naked. Since he already had the privilege of admiring her upper body, Fitz stood back and let his gaze drift to her lower half. Her slim waist exquisitely flared into her curvaceous hips. Though her legs were short, they were shapely and well-defined. Fitz appreciated the way her figure flowed flawlessly.
Finally, his eyes zeroed in on her pussy. A light stubble covered it, barely noticeable, which was another reason Fitz didn't understand why Olivia made it a thing. He figured her past lovers preferred her clean-shaven, but he was going to prove to her that he was nothing like those shallow losers.
"Scoot up there." He gestured to the top of his bed.
Olivia adjusted her position, sinking comfortably against the heap of pillows. Fitz toed off his shoes and joined her on his bed, kneeling between her splayed legs. He rubbed her bent knees, reveling in the way her untamed mane looked fanned out across his pillows.
"You're a little overdressed, aren't you, Governor?"
Fitz considered correcting her, but the sultry way she said his title made his manhood twitch. Normally, she uttered it with disdain, but tonight, it rolled off her tongue with a seductive edge.
Fitz smirked, "If you wanted me to take off my clothes, all you had to do was say so, Miss Pope."
He crossed his arms over his body, gripped the hems of his sweater and undershirt. He yanked them off in one smooth motion, tossing them haphazardly to the side.
Olivia sucked in a breath as she gawked at Fitz's amazing muscular physique. She knew he kept in shape, but she had no idea his body would look as stunning and manly as it did. His broad chest rose and fell steadily, the light dusting of hair accentuated the definition of his pecs. Her eyes trailed downward, tracing the hard lines of his six-packs abs and pronounced V-cut leading from his lower abdomen to his hips. Each ridge was sculpted with precision, as if he were carved from marble by Michaelangelo himself.
Unable to resist, Olivia ran her hands over his body, marveling at how hard and taut it felt beneath her fingertips. She noted that he didn't have an ounce of body fat; every part of him was toned and defined. He was definitely putting his home gym to good use.
Olivia's fingers traced his happy trail down to the impressive bulge in his pants. She palmed and massaged it, coaxing a soft moan from Fitz. He'd been waiting for her to touch him—really touch him—and felt like combusting now that she had.
His ragged breaths informed Olivia that she was driving toward the edge, which neither of them wanted him to approach yet. He wanted to make sure she got there first, and she wanted to feel him inside of her. Olivia gave him a gentle squeeze before reaching for his belt. She unbuckled it and undid his pants, pulling the rigid zipper down. However, he swatted her hands away when she attempted to dip her hand into his boxer briefs.
"Fitzzz." She whined with a pout.
"It's not nice when it happens to you, is it?" Was his petty response.
"Choosing to be spiteful over dicking me down is crazy work."
"Just lay there and enjoy this." He sassed.
"Enjoy wha—" Fitz cut her off with a bruising kiss.
"This." He whispered and kissed down her body.
He laid on his stomach and draped both of her silky thighs over his shoulders, holding them in place. He planted featherlight kisses on their inner flesh. Olivia clutched the pillow behind her head and fixated intently upon Fitz between her legs. He stared up at her through half-lidded eyes and slowly lowered his head, so she could only see the top of it. Olivia's breath became increasingly shallow as she awaited what was about to happen.
Now that he had an up close view of her core, Fitz inspected it—warm, pink, and wet. He pulled her closer to him and inhaled her delightful scent. He'd bet every dollar he had that she tasted as sweet as she smelled.
Olivia exhaled sharply as his flattened tongue parted her moist folds, licking a languid path upward until it encircled her bundle of nerves. Her hand gripped the pillow tighter while the other flew to his head. He teased her—kissing, flicking, and sucking her clit. Each stroke of his tongue sent shivers through her body, leaving her breathless and craving more.
Her bucking hips and heavy panting spurred him on.
"You like that?" Olivia nodded. "Talk to me, Livvie. Let me hear how good I make you feel."
Olivia moaned when he covered her entire pussy with his greedy mouth and stuck his tongue inside her. He proceeded to devour her like a starved beast. He wasn't shy about it either or afraid to make a mess. Her fingers twisted in his hair, holding him close as he feasted on her, seemingly determined to leave no crevice unexplored and untouched. He savored every taste. His slurping and low groans punctuated the silence in between her louder moans. Though his sounds were muted compared to hers, their combined noises created a harmonious chorus that resonated through the room.
"Mmm, ya taste so fuhkin' good." Fitz drawled hoarsely, his accent dipping in and out of prominence. Olivia caught it this time and thought it sounded so sexy. "If I had my way, I'd eat yah pussy fah breakfas', lunch, an' suppah."
"Fitz…" Olivia breathily pleaded.
She needed him to stop talking. Right now, his lips shouldn't be moving unless they were moving on her. Fitz understood what she wanted and appeased her. He resumed his erotic ministrations.
At times, he slowed his pace, relishing the tang of her sweet nectar as he gently caressed her cunt. In other instances, his tongue darted rapidly back and forth across her slick lower lips. His movements were fast and frenzied, almost frantic in their urgency, not wanting Olivia to miss even a fraction of a millisecond of pleasure.
Unlike Edison, whose technique revolved around recklessly gnawing at her love button whilst simultaneously applying way too much pressure, Fitz expertly employed enough pressure to guarantee satisfaction rather than agony. While Edison had been rough and painful, Fitz's touch was gentle yet intense. His lips and tongue moved fluidly from her inner folds back to her clit, repeating the pattern again and again.
Olivia writhed and twisted beneath Fitz's merciless oral assault, wheedling ripples of pleasure that seemed to echo endlessly through her soul. Her body wracked with the rising tide of rapture. With every flick of his tongue, she could feel her senses heightening. Her mind became consumed by the sheer intensity of her impending climax.
Just as Olivia reached her peak, Fitz abruptly stopped, leaving her reeling. Her sexual haze lifted almost instantly, and she glowered down at him, pissed that he would deny her release at such a critical juncture.
"Fitz, what the f—uuuccckkk!" She moaned out.
Fitz had pushed her right thigh back until it pressed against her chest and dove face first back into her love cave. This time, however, his touch was different—more methodical. He eased a finger into her depths, each inch disappeared into her tight but willing hole. He guided it leisurely in and out until he felt less resistance from her pulsating walls. He then added a second digit, twining both fingers together and curling them to press against her G-spot.
His skilled mouth and fingers drew forth unbridled, primitive sounds from her and had her squirming frantically. Olivia yielded to the raw power of his rare abilities, tears streaming freely down her face as the mounting pressure built inside her. It was becoming too much for her.
"F-Fitz, please…" Was all Olivia could whimper out.
The overwhelming pleasure was growing to be unbearable. She couldn't handle it. She didn't know how to handle it. She tugged his hair while simultaneously pushing his head, unsure if she wanted him to stop or keep going. However, as her orgasm neared, she decided she wanted him to stop or she might just die.
She dug her left foot into his right shoulder blade and worked in tandem with her hand in his hair to push him away. But Fitz didn't budge, nor was he deterred. Resigned, Olivia gave up trying to push his head away. It was clear that he wasn't going to back off until he got her off, so she braced herself for what she was positive would be the most mind-blowing orgasm she ever had.
Fitz felt Olivia's pussy clenched around his fingers as her juices flowed freely and knew she was close. He redoubled his efforts, finger fucking and tonguing her down harder and faster until he brought her to a back-arching, toe-curling, ear-piercing climax.
Her rich essence gushed out of her pussy, and Fitz did his best to lap up every drop, but some of it leaked onto his comforter. Olivia laid there motionless, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest, unable to move or speak save for the soft sighs that escaped her lips as she basked in the glorious aftermath of such a fortuitous and epic event.
Mindful of her sensitive state, Fitz gracefully placed Olivia's legs back onto the bed. Similar to how he did on his descent, he kissed his way up her gleaming body. A sheen of sweat overlaying her skin. When he arrived at her face, both he and Olivia took in each other's appearances.
His mouth and chin glistened with her organic juices. His short curls were tousled, giving him a wild, unrefined look that Olivia had never seen from him before. It was the first time she was witnessing him in a state that was anything less than perfectly coiffed.
Fitz, on the other hand, hovered over her and smiled softly at her tear-stained face. He wasn't startled because this wasn't the first time he brought a woman to tears merely from foreplay.
He still had to ask though, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." Olivia finally caught her breath, thus finding her voice again. "You got some skills, Governor. I'll give you that."
This was the second time tonight he had managed to impress her. The first was with his deep understanding of urban decay and his thoughtful ideas for revitalizing struggling neighborhoods. This time she was impressed that he not only had an Adonis-like appearance, but also wielded a type of power reminiscent of a Greek God.
"What else will you give me?" Fitz asked with a coquettish grin that Olivia matched.
"You want it? Come get it." She challenged. "You certainly earned it."
Fitz smashed his lips onto hers, and they engaged in a passionate French kiss that allowed Olivia to taste herself. He lowered his hips and ground his covered hardness into her exposed wetness. Olivia broke their kiss to let out a throaty moan.
"Get inside me now." She bossed.
Fitz stared down at her for a long beat, however, the carnal desire that burned in Olivia's eyes didn't falter or fade. He kissed her once before he swung his legs over her and dismounted off the bed.
His undone pants instantly fell in a pool around his ankles, and he stepped out of them, kicking them aside. He then pulled down his black boxer briefs and discarded them with his pants. Olivia's eyes followed his movements as he opened the top drawer of his nightstand to retrieve a condom.
Wanting to extend the same level of respect to him as he'd given her, she initially avoided sneaking a peek at his junk. However, she couldn't stop herself when Fitz tore open the gold foil packet and deftly rolled on the latex. She discreetly examined it—Angela's theory about his size wasn't entirely accurate, but it wasn't far off either. His dick, while not unrealistically huge as those described in the erotic stories she secretly read, was above average… or so Olivia thought. She only had Edison's to compare his to, and he was a lot bigger than her ex. His manhood seemed to be balanced in proportion and potency. It was substantial enough to be commendable without being grotesquely oversized.
Fitz rejoined her on the bed and settled in between her legs. He grabbed himself and positioned his bulbous tip at her entrance, gently probing it. She was so wet and ready for him, and he wasn't going to make her wait another tortuous second to feel him.
Peering down deep into her eyes, he promised, "I'm going to ruin you."
With that, he slid into her with little resistance thanks to his preparation. She was still incredibly tight though. They moaned in unison as their bodies became one. Fitz gave them both a minute to adjust—her to his size and him to her tightness. Her inner muscles were like a vice, already attempting to squeeze an orgasm out of him.
"Fuck, you're tight." He groaned in her ear.
He jerked when her walls clenched around and began to thrust in and out of Olivia at slow and steady pace, only giving her half of his length. He loved the way she felt around him. She loved the way he felt inside of her.
Olivia lifted her legs above his hips, locking them securely around his waist, encouraging him to give her more. Her hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax with each movement. His lips were on her neck, leaving hot kisses that sent tingles right to her throbbing core.
Fitz pumped harder and faster, filing her deeply with each thrust. The friction between their bodies sent waves of ecstasy coursing through their veins. With each passing second, Olivia's passionate calls grew louder as she reached new heights of pleasure. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer. Fitz's thrusts accelerated, his movements frenzied but still controlled.
He leaned up and supported his upper body weight on his knuckles as he continued to drill into her. Olivia's fingernails dragged down his back, breaking some skin. Fitz grunted but ignored the dull pain while intently watching his sheathed dick disappear and reappear from her soaked pussy. With each withdrawal, his member emerged glossier than before, coated heavily in Olivia's fluids.
In a moment of slight fatigue, Fitz momentarily faltered, his rhythm breaking. He sat back on his knees—their bodies still connected—and threw Olivia's legs over his shoulders. The sudden change in position caused her to gasp.
Fitz leaned forward, his body now at a more acute angle. The sound of skin clapping reverberated off the walls as he resumed snapping his hips into her, each thrust more forceful. With this new, deeper angle, Fitz was able to fill her up completely to her hilt. He hit her G-spot with precision, especially when he gyrated his hips. The stimulation was intense, and Olivia couldn't take it. The depth and pressure made her body writhe in pleasure and discomfort.
One of her hands gripped his arm, her fingers digging deep into it as she tried to anchor herself against his powerful thrusts. The other pushed against his thigh, attempting to create some space to alleviate the intense sensation that was bordering on pain. Tears welled up in her eyes, and soon she was weeping again. She desperately tried to wriggle away from him, but she was trapped and at his complete mercy.
"Wheah ya goin', Livvie?" Fitz asked softly, no longer bothering to subdue his accent. He was having a hard time as it was staving off his own release.
"F-Fitz… too much… I can't." She sobbed.
"Yes, ya can." He gently encouraged and kissed her tears away. "I've got ya. Just relax."
The reassurance of his words helped to calm her down, but he was still too deep, and she needed to to get away from his punishing strokes.
"I nevah took ya fah a runnah, Miss Pope."
"F-fuck you." Olivia panted out.
Fitz smiled, "Ya wanna?" Though he was teasing her, he was also being very serious.
His movements ceased, and he pulled out of her. Olivia sighed with relief, but immediately felt empty. Fitz laid beside her on his back and snaked his arms around her, rolling her on top of him. Olivia sat up with her hands pressed firmly on his pecs for leverage.
"Ride me, baby." Fitz instructed.
She rose just enough to align her pussy with Fitz's erect dick, her eyes clashing with his as she prepared to take control. She sank down onto him, relishing the feeling of his thickness filling her back up. Slowly, she started to bounce up and down on him. Her titties jiggled enticingly as she moved, the sight captivating Fitz. He gripped her hips, helping her undulate on him.
Olivia alternated between bouncing on him and grinding on him, swiveling her hips in every direction to maximize the pleasure. As her stamina waned, so did her movements. Fitz took over. His strong hands gripped her plump buttcheeks and thrust up, slamming her onto him, impaling her relentlessly. The surge of power finally sent Olivia over the edge, and she came. Her body shuddered upon her release.
She collapsed on his chest. Her body was spent and still tingling from another life-changing orgasm. Fitz kept his word about ruining her. After being with him, she doubted she'd find a man as gifted as him. She felt bad for the poor guy who would dare try to match him. She knew she'd spend their whole union comparing him to Fitz, and not in a good way.
Fitz gave her only a minute to recuperate before he switched their position again. He flipped Olivia over so she was on all fours and he was kneeling behind her. He placed a hand on the center of her back and arched it to his liking. Then he slid into her from behind and proceeded to fuck her ruthlessly. His left hand held her waist while his right grabbed her shoulder—both hands forcing her to take his well-endowed dick. She could feel it all up in her guts.
Olivia buried her face into his pillows to muffle her screams, hoping her mascara didn't stain and ruin them. Fitz's swinging sac slapped against her clit as he rammed into her. His groans crescendoed and his balls tightened, signaling his impending ejaculation.
With a final yell of his name, Olivia came yet again and lunged forward so her body was lying prone. Her whole world exploding into a brief, blinding white light. Her legs splayed out like a frog's. Her body was spent but satisfied.
Fitz followed her down, keeping his pace and rhythm until he came with a long, hoarse groan. "Fuuuucccckkkk!"
Once his condom was filled with his seed, he pulled out of Olivia and laid beside her on the bed. They both remained silent for several moments, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. The room was quiet, except for their heavy breathing.
"I think I ruined your thirty thousand dollar bed." Olivia said out of the blue, looking over at Fitz, who simply shrugged.
"I'll buy another one." He responded with entitled indifference. Olivia glared at him. He grinned, "I'm kidding."
They fell silent again and again, Olivia broke the silence.
"You should talk in your accent more. It's hot." She professed.
Fitz chuckled and shook his head. What was it with her and his voice?
"It ain' propah fah a gov'nah to talk like Bill Burr." Fitz quipped in a thick Boston accent.
Olivia threw her head back in laughter. Fitz smiled goofily at her and leaned over to kiss her neck, cheek, and lastly her lips, which he pecked over and over again.
"Be right back." He said against them.
He reluctantly peeled himself away from her and headed toward his ensuite bathroom. Olivia propped her head on her open palm, admiring his muscular back and well-sculpted ass.
In the bathroom, Fitz discarded his soiled condom and cleaned off with a damp washcloth. There was a light knock on the door, and he opened it to find Olivia standing on the other side, shifting from one foot to the other.
"Don't mean to kick you out of your own bathroom, but I have to pee." She said.
They were on a first name basis. They saw each other naked. They fucked. There was no need to be demure. Fitz laughed a little at her frankness.
"Okay. If you want to wash off, there are some fresh washcloths and towels in there." He said, pointing to a tall storage cabinet.
He kissed her temple and slid his hand over her abdomen as he past her on his way out of the bathroom. He shut the door so she could do her business in private.
Olivia relieved herself and took a quick birdbath, too tired for a full shower or bath, though her sore body could definitely use the latter. Fitz sat on the side of his bed, waiting patiently for Olivia to return, which she did a few minutes later. She bent next to his feet to collect her underwear, pants, and socks.
"What are you doing?" Fitz asked curiously.
"What does it look like? I'm getting my clothes."
Fitz pulled her to him. "You won't need them tonight."
And just like that, she was back in his bed, getting her guts rearranged by his needy dick. All night, he read her body for filth, learning every inch of it. He was insatiable. Olivia tried to get some rest throughout the night but was only able to get a few catnaps in before he woke her up with his tongue, fingers, or penis—sometimes all three. It seemed like every time she closed her eyes, he was initiating another round.
She had woken up to him penetrating her from behind. He was spooning her. Her left leg was hooked in the bend of his left arm as he pounded into her.
Another time, she woke up to him messily eating her out before they engaged in their fourth—or was it their fifth—round of wild, uninhibited, nasty sex. He was surprised she kept up with him. He thought for sure she was going to tap out after round three, but she didn't because she wasn't a punk and neither was her pussy. Fitz even praised her "for taking him so well."
The one time, Olivia's bladder woke her up. Fitz had gone downstairs to get them some water, and she intended to get some shut-eye for however long it took him to make the two-way trip. However, her full bladder foiled her plan. She planted both feet firmly on the raised floor and stood on wobbly legs for all of one second before they gave out and she crumbled to the floor. She damn near peed herself right there. Fitz had just walked in and saw it happen.
"Oh shit!" He exclaimed, unable to do anything as his hands were full. While he was worried that she might have hurt herself, the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, exposing his amusement.
"Fitzgerald, you better fucking not." Olivia glared at him from her undignified position, seeing his face redden as he tried to keep a straight face.
At those words, Fitz lost it. He almost spilled the tall glasses of water as his body convulsed with boisterous laughter. He was still laughing when Olivia climbed back in his bed. She folded her arms over her chest and pouted. Fitz apologized to her by giving her a cataclysmic orgasm. They went round after spectacular round until Fitz ran out of condoms.
He joked that he should have one of his on-duty agents run and grab more, which Olivia immediately shut down. She was bone-tired and wanted to pass out. Fitz stripped the soaked comforter off his bed, and they laid under the coverlet. They talked for a bit until Olivia's breathing evened out as she succumbed to exhaustion. Fitz stayed awake long after she had fallen asleep and watched her, stroking her cheek and hair. She looked so peaceful and thoroughly fucked. She couldn't have been more beautiful to him.
The morning light spilled softly through the curtains, casting a soft-hued radiance over Fitz and Olivia as they slept tangled together in a peaceful embrace. The bed, large enough for both of them to stretch out comfortably, now felt too small as their bodies remained entwined under the soft sheets. The world outside seemed far away, the silence of the room broken only by their synchronized breathing.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, a thunderous bang at the bedroom doors cut through the tranquility, accompanied by an urgent voice.
"Governor Grant!"
Fitz's eyes snapped open, disoriented, and Olivia jerked awake beside him, her body tensing at the sudden noise. They both blinked into the morning light, confused for a moment, until they realized they were still wrapped up in each other.
"Shit," Fitz muttered, his mind rushing to catch up.
He glanced at the clock. "Shit," he repeated, leaping out of bed. He hastily donned his robe and threw a glance at Olivia, who was wrapping a sheet around herself, eyes wide with alarm.
Another knock.
"Governor Grant! Open up or we're coming!" The same voice warned.
Fitz rushed to the doors but waited for Olivia to scurry into the bathroom before flinging them open. Tom Larsen, his head of security and an entire team of agents stood there, concerned etched on their faces, firearms drawn.
"Sir, we've been trying to reach you. Mr. Beene's been calling nonstop. We had to perform a wellness check." Tom explained, holstering his gun. The other agents followed suit.
Fitz nodded, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.. "I uh…" He cleared his throat, his voice rough from sleep. "I appreciate your diligence. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine. I just overslept."
"What about Miss Pope?"
As if on cue, they all heard the sound of running water. Fitz fought a smirk and maintained a professional expression.
"She's fine too."
Tom and the other agents didn't leave immediately, their gazes flickering past Fitz to the room. They took in the state of it, from his rumpled bed to the scattered clothes. A musky odor also lingered in the air. They knew right away what he and Miss Pope had been up to.
It was Tom's turn to clear his throat. "Of course, sir. My apologies for the disturbance."
"No need to apologize. You guys were doing your jobs. Thank you. We'll be ready within the hour."
They nodded and left the governor and his guest to start their days. Fitz closed the doors, making sure to lock them, and exhaled deeply. His phone started buzzing on his nightstand. He made his way over to it and checked the caller ID. Cyrus. Fitz rolled his eyes and answered his phone.
"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?" Cyrus bellowed right as the call connected.
Fitz winced, pulling his phone away from his ear. "Good morning to you too, Cy." He greeted sarcastically, rubbing his eyes.
"I'm five minutes from your house. Your ass better be ready by the time I get there." Cyrus spat, ignoring his fake greeting.
"Cyrus, if you come to my house, you're fired." Fitz threatened in a low, dangerous voice that told Cyrus not to test him. "I overslept. That's all. Turn your car around and go back to the State House. I'll be there in an hour, at the latest."
"You are governor. You are running for president. You do not sleep in." Cyrus retorted.
"Damn it, Cyrus!" Fitz exploded, his frustration boiling over. "I have the right to sleep in, considering how little I've gotten since you and my father pulled that stunt, throwing me into the presidential race without so much as a conversation." He was still pissed about that. "Like I said, take your ass back to the State House. I will be there soon."
Fitz didn't wait for Cyrus to respond before he abruptly ended the call and tossed his phone back onto the nightstand. He sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled curls. He needed a minute.
When his minute was up, Fitz walked into the steam-laden bathroom. Olivia was in the shower. Through the fogged glass, her silhouette blurred like an impressionist painting, her form barely discernible yet undeniably alluring. His gaze fell on his sink's countertop, where a newly opened and used toothbrush lay. He placed it in his toothbrush holder, a small intimate gesture that spoke loud volumes. A quiet hope lingered—that she would have many more mornings with him and many more opportunities to leave her mark in his space.
Fitz smiled at what could be and brushed his teeth before shedding his robe and stepping into the steamy shower. Olivia turned to him, water cascading down her curves.
"Everything okay?" She asked somewhat worriedly.
"Yeah, my security wanted to make sure you hadn't harmed a hair on my perfect head."
Olivia rolled her eyes and spun away from him. "I'm amazed there's room for any thoughts in there with your oversized ego hogging all the space."
Fitz laughed at her response and wrapped his arms around her wet, slippery body. He traced a soft kiss along her shoulder up to the curve of her neck. Olivia welcomed his affection until his kisses persisted, his dick hardened against her ass, and he became handsy. She seized his wandering hands, halting his advances.
"Fitz, we can't."
"Please?" Fitz begged. "Cyrus is going to be on my case all day. Shower sex is just what I need to face that monster."
Olivia faced him again with a raised, curious brow, "If he's such a monster, why don't you fire him?"
"Because he's my monster who's loyal and actually worth a damn." Fitz responded and tilted his head slightly. His eyes widened with an innocent charm that mirrored the classic "puppy dog eyes." The corners of his mouth turned down just enough to evoke a sense of longing. "Livvie, please?" He tried again.
Olivia shook her head adamantly and argued, "No, you have to get to work and so do I."
"I'll be quick. I promise."
She made the mistake of looking directly into his eyes and all of her resolve slipped away.
"Fine. Five minutes. And don't get my hair wet. I don't have time to dry it." She told him sternly.
"Five minutes." Fitz agreed.
He backed her into the marble shower wall and attacked her lips hungrily with his own. He lifted her effortlessly, wrapping his strong arms around her. She clung to his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist.
"You better not drop me." Olivia threatened.
"You better not let go." Fitz countered.
Fitz slid Olivia onto his engorged member and they gasped loudly. The warmth of the water and natural lubrication of her body made it easy for him to enter her. The intricate network of veins adorning his bare penis pulsed with life. He moved deliberately, stroking her inner walls and sending tremors through her body. The contrast between his rigidity and her velvety warmth created a delightful friction that made them forget they were on a time constraint.
Olivia moaned as Fitz moved her up and down on his shaft. While the position brought them equal pleasure, it also proved too much for either of them to maintain because soon enough, Olivia began to slip out of his grasp.
Quickly adjusting, Fitz twirled Olivia around, bent her over, and took her from behind. Olivia met his thrust, throwing her ass back on him. Their bodies collided with a loud splash, the noise muffled by the water. More steam enveloped them as they moved faster and harder. The steady slap of meeting flesh filled the air.
Olivia cried out as Fitz beat her pussy up. The scent of soap mixed with the aroma of their arousal wafted through her nostrils as she arched her back.
Fitz leaned over her back and growled in her ear, "We can't leave until you cum." He reached around and rubbed her clit vigorously. "You gonna cum for me, Livvie?"
"Y-yes… don't stop." Olivia breathed.
"Cum for me."
Olivia let go with that simple command, emitting a high-pitched scream. Her inner muscles spasmed and clenched tightly around him, bringing him over the cliff with her. He grunted and pulled out just as he blew his load.
"Turn around." He said frantically.
Olivia did and watched Fitz furiously stroke his dick. He bent his knees, aiming his tip at her lower abdomen and mound. He painted both areas with fat globs of cum. Some women would be offended by their partners using them as targets for their cumshots, but Olivia found the act erotic and oddly satisfying.
Fitz rested his forehead against hers as he concentrated on catching his breath in the thick cloud of steam. He closed his eyes, a wave of lightheadedness washing over him. While the intensity of his climax had been euphoric, a nagging uncertainty crept in, causing his head to spin. The possibility that he hadn't pulled out in time gnawed at him, mixing anxiety with his post-coital bliss. When Olivia cleaned in between her legs, Fitz observed discreetly, seeking reassurance. She didn't pause or react, and Fitz subtly sighed in relief. He acted fast enough. If he hadn't, he would have hoped Olivia was on birth control.
It had been years since Fitz relied on the pull out method, a technique he'd rarely employed even when he was younger. In the past, he'd typically been prepared, only occasionally finding himself without protection. As his political career flourished, he became increasingly cautious, limiting his intimate encounters and maintaining a more reserved lifestyle. He knew a single misstep could tarnish his legacy.
Fitz emerged from his walk-in closet, adjusting his tie, at the same time Olivia exited the bathroom, dressed in her clothes from yesterday, hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. As Fitz slipped on his suit jacket, the transformation was striking. Olivia froze at the sight before her.
The man she'd spent the night with had undergone a metamorphosis. Where Fitz had been, Governor Grant now stood in all his eminence. The change was as significant as Clark Kent becoming Superman.
His once-unruly curls were now tamed, combed to perfection without a single flyaway. His posture had shifted, becoming straighter and more commanding in his crisp suit. The custom-tailored, business formal attire emphasized his power and prestige, creating an aura of authority around him.
Olivia found herself momentarily breathless, struck by the duality of the man before her. In private, he was Fitz—funny, vulnerable, and intimately familiar. But now, as Governor Grant, he exuded an air of untouchable sophistication and political prowess.
The seamless transition between his private and public personas was a testament to Fitz's complexity. Like Superman donning his cape, Governor Grant wore his political identity with natural ease, ready to face the challenges of his office.
Fitz noticed Olivia gaping at him and furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why she was looking at him seemingly starstruck.
"You hate the tie, don't you? Purple isn't my color, but it was a gift from my grandfather so..." Fitz trailed off with a shrug.
Olivia blinked and unfroze. "Your grandfather? The OG Fitzgerald Grant?"
Fitz scoffed, "Hell no. The only thing that man ever gave me was a concussion after he backhanded me into a wall for grieving my late grandmother—his wife, mind you. I was seven, and we were at her funeral."
"That's terrible."
"So why are you laughing?"
"I'm sorry." She wasn't because she laughed harder. "That's just a funny mental image."
Fitz shook his head, smiling at her silliness. He was happy that things weren't tense or awkward between them after their night together. He half-expected her to put her guard back up and be cold towards him, but she genuinely surprised him with her lightheartedness.
Olivia's laughter died down when her phone vibrated. "I gotta go. My friends are blowing up my phone." She didn't look up as she spoke, too absorbed in her group chat with Angela and Annalise. Fitz plucked her phone from her hands.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
He ignored her as he tapped away on the screen, then handed the device back to her. Olivia looked at it. He added his contact information to it and sent himself a message, so he'd have her number.
"That's my personal cell number. Contact me anytime, for anything, especially if you want to discuss business. No more ambushing me at my office." He told her sternly.
"Stick to your word, and I won't show up unannounced." Olivia bargained.
Fitz mulled it over. "Deal." He approached his bedroom doors. "Ready?"
Olivia hesitated. "Is your staff here?" She asked, not wanting anyone besides his security to know she was there.
"They usually are, but I gave everyone the day off. I figured you wouldn't want an audience to watch you do the walk of shame."
Fitz quickly ran out of his room, barely dodging a pillow Olivia threw at him.
"Mmm, Fitz, no more."
"One more." He replied, his tone soft but insistent.
They were standing in his foyer, making out. Moments earlier, Olivia had gathered her leftovers and slung her backpack over her shoulder, ready to leave. Fitz then took her hand and led her toward the front doors.
Before they returned to reality where he was the esteemed governor and she was the fiery activist, he requested a parting kiss. Olivia accepted, knowing full well that once they crossed the threshold to the outside world, their dynamic would shift back to normal. They wouldn't be sharing kisses and intimacy again, so she let herself indulge one last time.
What began as a series of short, harmless pecks quickly ignited into a frenzy of incandescent kisses, the kind that left no room for restraint. Tongues collided, minty breaths mingled, and time seemed to stall. It was so easy to lose herself in him and forget everything else. But when her hand gravitated toward his hair, Olivia caught herself and pulled back.
"Fitz," she said, her voice a hushed plea as she tried to step away, but Fitz wasn't ready to let go. He reeled her back into his arms. "I have to go," Olivia whined, though her lips lingered near his, the words barely convincing even to her own ears.
"One more kiss," he coaxed, giving her those cute puppy-dog eyes again that she couldn't resist. "Just one more, and I swear I'll let you leave."
Olivia narrowed her eyes at him, knowing better, but already giving in. "One." She said firmly. "I mean it, Fitzgerald. We are way behind schedule."
Fitz grinned as if he'd already won, cupping her face. His lips met hers in a kiss that was deceptively brief but devastatingly sensual. It left her breathless, her heart hammering against her ribs.
He finally released her, staring down at her with that infuriatingly smug expression. Olivia rolled her eyes and adjusted her bag.
"Before I go, I want to thank you for last night."
Fitz smirked arrogantly, "You're welcome."
Olivia playfully punched his arm. "Not that, pervert." She shot back, though her cheeks betrayed her with a faint blush. "I'm talking about the respect you showed me." She continued, her tone earnest now. "You engaged with me about issues that matter—not just to me but to my community. That kind of dialogue between someone like you and someone like me is rare. The fact that you took the time to listen… that you actually heard me… thank you."
Fitz's expression softened, and he reclaimed her hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.
"You could've dismissed me." Olivia went on. "You could've turned the conversation into a political sound bite or dodged the harder truths. But you didn't. You didn't interrupt me when I spoke. And even when we didn't see eye to eye, you didn't belittle me. You treated me like an equal, and that…" She paused, her voice catching a moment. "That matters more than you know."
"I—" Olivia raised a finger, cutting him off.
"Before you start patting yourself on the back…" she began with a teasing smirk, "...you're not off the hook. You still have work to do. This is just the beginning."
Fitz chuckled and squeezed her hand, "Understood. And for the record, I wouldn't want you to let me off the hook. You keep me on my toes and hold me accountable. I'm already a better man because of you. Honestly, I'm the one who should be thanking you."
Olivia's cheeks flushed again. She tried to play it off. "Remember that the next time I raise hell in your office."
Fitz opened his mouth to remind her of the chat they had not even ten minutes ago. Olivia stopped him, giggling.
"I'm messing with you… Expect strongly worded texts though."
"I know how to use Do Not Disturb." Fitz quipped and held open a huge door for her.
Olivia stepped through it, and Fitz followed her out. They were greeted by the unseasonably warm November weather and Fitz's security detail, who stood around two heavily tinted black sedans, sharp and vigilant. Nearby, his Rolls Royce Spectre idled quietly, gleaming in the morning sun.
Olivia turned to him with a knowing grin, the conversation they had last night coming back to her.
"I know they're sick of you." She joked, referring to his agents having to constantly put up with their rule-breaking boss.
"We have a system that works." Fitz replied, nodding to his agents who were all brooding. He chuckled.
They were sick of him, but he was in charge, meaning he called the shots. As the son of Big Gerry Grant, a national treasure—two-term governor, four-term senator—Fitz spent his whole life being catered to, watched over, and cajoled. He liked being independent and would continue to do things for himself because it allowed him to keep his sanity. He needed those little wins to feel some sense of control over his life.
Olivia saw that her trusty Honda was parked exactly where she'd left it the night before. It looked dinky amidst the grandeur of his estate. Fitz walked her to her car, their steps unhurried as if they were reluctant to burst the small bubble that formed around them. Reaching it, he opened the door for her with the same care he'd shown the night before, offering his hand as she climbed in.
Olivia settled into the driver's seat and glanced up at him. "Have a good day, Governor."
Fitz leaned down slightly, wearing a doting expression. You too… Don't be a stranger, Miss Pope."
For a moment, the world around them disappeared. His security, her car, even the unseasonal breeze—all faded into the background. They had a connection neither wanted to name because that would mean acknowledging it. Their unspoken agreement was final—one night. That was all they could have. Their lives were just too different. He didn't fit in hers, and she sure as hell didn't fit in his.
Reality set in for Fitz, as it always did. He straightened back up and closed her door with a soft thud. He stepped back, looking on as she started the engine. Their eyes met through the windshield, and despite the professional veneer they were about to don, the chemistry between them still crackled.
Fitz walked over to his car and slid behind the wheel. Olivia peered at him for a second, admiring the way he seemed perfectly at ease in the sleek vehicle, as if it were an extension of him. It was hard to see him through his tinted windows, but he lowered his window, giving her a better view. He winked at her, and she gave a wave before she guided her car toward the enormous gates that slowly opened as she approached.
She checked her rearview mirror as she drove away from Fitz's mansion. Fitz was trailing closely behind her, his car flanked by the sedans, the convoy a stark contrast to her lone vehicle.
When they made it to the end of Fitz's neighborhood, Olivia honked twice, a playful farewell. Fitz responded by honking once. Then, they parted ways. Olivia turned left, heading back to her side of town, while Fitz turned right, his convoy merging seamlessly onto the main road.
Fitz dropped into his chair with a heavy sigh, the leather creaking beneath him. Six hours of back-to-back meetings had drained every ounce of his energy—which was low to begin with—leaving him utterly spent. He leaned back, rubbing his temples, his lack of sleep weighing heavily on him. But the exhaustion wasn't without its rewards. His night with Olivia had been worth every missed minute of rest.
Everything about last night had been perfect. His lips curved into a slow smile as his mind wandered to Olivia. Her passion, her humor, her undeniable beauty. He could still hear her laughter, feel the warmth of her body against his, recall the way her voice had softened and grown husky in moments of intimacy. Just the thought of her sent a hum of satisfaction through him.
A sharp knock at his office door jolted him from his reminiscing.
"Come in!" he called, a trace of irritation in his tone.
The door opened, and Abby entered, carrying a steaming mug of coffee. She crossed the room quickly, setting the cup on his desk with practiced efficiency.
"Here you go, sir."
"Thank you, Abby," Fitz replied, sitting upright in his chair.
"Your next meeting is in twenty minutes," she reminded him and he groaned.
He was almost tempted to tell her to reschedule it, but then Cyrus would bitch at him, and he was in no mood to deal with his chief of staff. He'd just have to sneak in a nap before the meeting.
"Yes, I know. Thanks."
"Also, I have Lawrence Kelly on line one for you." She informed him and turned to leave.
Fitz waited until she closed the door to pick up his phone, pressing the button for line one.
"Hey, Larry," he greeted his financial manager. His voice was businesslike but warm. "I don't have much time, so I'll cut to the chase. I want to make an anonymous donation for ten thousand dollars."
Happy holidays!