Wicked Games

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Hope's POV...

I open my eyes, tangled in blanket and my head opposite side of bed.

"Hey," I hear Kent's voice as his silhouette gains color and his face shows up.

"Why are you up?" I rub eyes with fingers.

"You pushed me out of bed." He drinks some water before returning in bed.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, holding back a giggle. "I told you I was terrible sleeper."

"It's okay," I put my head from end of bed to his arm, my hand resting on his chest as he kisses top of my head. "Wasn't really way I wanted to wake up next to you, but that's the way we are, right love?"

"Like what? Extraordinary?" I ask.

"Mm-hmm," he says, deep chords ringing in his morning voice. "Exactly, extraordinary."

I'm extremely calm in his arms and slept like baby but it still feels awkward to me. I've never been in relationship, and last time I was about to enter in one I had to ditch him—Kent. "So what should we do now?" I ask, really awkwardly. "Don't get me wrong, I've never been in relationship before, so I'm not really sure what to do or say. It's actually freaking me out, because I've always had this power in my—I don't know— things, and now I feel... vulnerable. I always know when to leave or ask someone to go but now..."

"Now, my beautiful, we rest and enjoy each other's bodies. We absorb one another's warmth and love and relax. It wasn't one-night-stand so we can have peaceful morning." He says, WAY more calmer than me. "How does that sound?"

"That actually sounds amazing." I close my eyes, burying my face in his neck. "And you smell good." I mumble, kissing his neck. "And you look good." I kiss him again, more energetic. "And you make me fool for you." Laughing at my wild behavior I realize something. "But I have one more question, when are we returning? Not that I want to return, just curiosity." Who knows what kind of chaos is happening there. Maybe daisy did something again.

"Clearly I'm not enough distraction from daisy case, no?" I feel horribly embarrassed that I made him feel this way. Well, it's true though. "All right, let's start morning like that," he says. "Sit on my face."

My eyes widen as I look up. "Excuse me, what?"

He sighs. "Sit on my face, please." I still don't move. "Come on, I'm serious. Don't make me beg." His playful smirk kind of scares me but when he insists and grabs my hand to make me sit up. I have no other choice but to obey him.

As soon I'm on my knees he grabs my thigh and puts it on his side until I'm straddling him. "Like this, let me help you to relax."

"I am relaxed," I answer, my legs already each side of his head. "I'm pretty relaxed."

"Not from here," his lips start from inside of my thighs, and then his tongue goes straight to the point, making me grab the headboard. But then he stops. "When I tell you to sit on my face I mean to put your whole fucking weight on me, not half of it."

"But you—"

"Put your ass on my face, Tate." This definitely was command I obey. It's still feels and sounds weird to be called with my real name. But every time he calls me Tate I feel shudder of amusement and satisfaction.