Page 49 of The Sniper

But my hands didn’t listen—kept the wheel steady, pushing north, the hum of the tires a drumbeat to the want roaring in my chest.

I wanted her.

Bad.

Had since that first night, since that kiss, since that dream that’d left me hard and aching.

And now she was asking—begging, almost—to come to my place, to forget.

Couldn’t turn that down, not when her voice carried that edge, that need I felt in my bones.

Dominion Hall loomed ahead, dark and sprawling, a fortress against the gray dusk creeping in.

I parked, killed the engine, and she was out before I could open her door—moving fast, purposeful, like she’d made up her mind.

She grabbed my hand, dragging me toward the entrance, her grip tight. “Where?” she asked, voice sharp, eyes darting.

I nodded toward the stairs. “Up there. My room.”

She didn’t hesitate—pulled me along, her steps quick, urgent, and I followed, heart pounding, every excuse I’d rehearsed burning away.

We hit my room, door slamming shut behind us, and she turned, shedding her jacket like it weighed a ton.

“I’m taking a shower,” she said, flat, already moving to the bathroom. “Get in bed. Wait for me.”

I stood there, dumbstruck, watching her disappear behind the door, the click of the lock loud in the quiet.

Minutes dragged—hours, it felt like—each tick of the clock stretching my nerves thin.

I peeled off my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and climbed into bed, sheets cool against my skin.

Someone from the staff must’ve come through earlier—clean sheets, fresh and crisp—because the ones I’d wrecked were gone, a quiet mercy.

I waited, pulse hammering, cock already stirring at the thought of her—wet, bare, coming for me.

Didn’t know what she’d do, what she’d want, but I’d give it to her—whatever it was, all of it.

The shower cut off, and my breath caught, every muscle tensing as the door creaked open.

She stepped out, steam curling around her like smoke, a towel barely clinging to her hips, hair dripping down her back.

A heated angel—flushed, eyes dark with something wild, something that struck me right where it counted.

She dropped the towel, let it fall, and crossed the room slow, hips swaying, skin glistening in the dim light.

I sat up, sheets sliding off, and she climbed onto the bed, straddling me without a word.

Her hands hit my chest, nails digging in, and she leaned down, kissing me—hard, hungry, teeth clashing as her tongue shoved into my mouth.

I groaned, hands clamping her hips, pulling her tight against me, my cock throbbing under her heat.

She didn’t wait—reached down, yanked my boxers off, and took me in her hand, stroking slow, firm, her grip sending a jolt up my spine. If she was inexperienced, she sure as hell was fooling me.

“Yes,” I rasped, head tipping back, and she smirked—sharp, feral—before sinking down, taking me in deep, her pussy hot and tight around me.

A flicker of pain crossed her face, quick and gone, her breath catching as she adjusted to me, her innocence laid bare in that fleeting moment. Then she rode me—hard, relentless, eyes closed, hips slamming down, tits bouncing with every thrust, her moans low and raw.

I gripped her ass, thrust up to meet her, the slap of skin loud, brutal, filling the room with need.

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