The Sniper's Heart

Chapter 5

It's early. Everyone is out, mainly talking and laughing with each other, smacking each other's backs and laughing about new inside jokes. This make up of soldiers has been strong. Our whole team has been strong. I clench my pistol that's clipped to my thigh holster, eyes gliding across the crowd of men each with a duffel bag. I have a draw-string bag slung off my right shoulder, my body tense under the familiar weight of my tactical gear. Everyone else is dressed in their casual wear, but I prefer to be ready. Any moment something could happen, and you never know. Never let your guard down. Never get distracte-

Our eyes clash and my heart lurches in my chest, my stomach tumbling. My grip becomes deathly on my trusty weapon and the rusty jeep keys in my hand, trying to breathe as he starts making his way towards me. Fuck. Mr Hunky always finds a way to grate on my nerves. Always push and pick at me. Gripe on about something I need to change, need to refine. It pisses me off. I need to change? No. Not for any man.

His form is so hard to ignore. Wide and broad, full of demanding power and confidence. He commands the respect of everyone in this goddamned room. He makes every hair on my body stand up, his presence overwhelming. He makes me weak in the knees. Distracted. Weak. I hate him because of it. He's found a soft spot in me. Found a loose board that could make the whole wall topple down. I grit my teeth and force myself to meet his gaze. Not backing down. Trying to prove my authority.

He meets it back with just as much intensity. It makes my body quiver at the idea of such a man overwhelming my senses. Controlling me. Keeping me safe for once in my entire life. He's the fucking definition of a man. Masculine. The authority he has makes me want to obey every command he lays out, no matter how hard my brain says it's wrong to do so. He could tell me to lick the sand and if he caught me at the right time, I would. He makes me want to let go. To give someone else the trouble of protecting me. Even if it's only for a moment. I want it. I crave it.

But fuck. I'm a soldier. A lieutenant. A warrior. A sniper. I should have no weakness. Have no desires. Have no unruly intentions.

But his hair...looks so fucking soft compared to his hard demeanor. Those muscles hard and firm, the scars that mar his body light a flame in my stomach. Something about it is just so fucking hot. His heavy brow and dark brown eyes, deadly to look into. I haven't even seen the look of his nose or his true jawline, not even his lips. But I want them all over me. Those hands covered in tattoos and scars. He always has that fabric mask covering that part of his face and now? I can't even trust myself in my sleep. He's all that I can think about. Every desire I have conquered up in my mind plays out during the night.

Him forcing his thick cock down my throat with me on my knees, tugging on the collar around my neck with the chain, tugging at my hair and fucking my face.

Me on all fours, his handprints bright on my ass, his hand on my neck as he fucks me into the bed, stretching me out and forcing me to take it.

Me rolling my hips over his, riding his cock, my eyes rolling as he tugs and plays with the collar he gifted me, calling me his good little soldier.

His body bent over mine over the table in the meeting room-

"Mm," a rough voice hums and I jump, a gasp heaving from my body as I blink rapidly, clearing the thoughts from my head. He's standing before me, eyes burning through my head and my whole body flushes. Shit. Could he read my thoughts? His large tattooed hand comes up, grabbing my jaw softly but with enough force to send a wave of arousal down to my pussy. "What's that look, shortcake? Got something on your mind?" He all but purrs, dipping his head down to get closer to my height.