Bite The Hand That Feeds You Book Novels & Stories

If he was feeding me a line of bullshit, then nothing would happen other than a bad taste in my mouth. As I weighed the options, I didn’t notice that he slit the palm of his hand with a blade until the scent of blood filled the air. As if I were pulled into a deep trance, I stared at his hand. Saliva filled my mouth and a sweet smell wafted through the air. “Drink from my hand and I promise you will feel better.” Zach spoke, yet his voice sounded distant. I wasn’t sure if I should do it, but that didn’t stop my body from moving on its own. The moment he gave the words, my hands reached out to grab his wrist and pull it closer to me. I hesitated when his hand was in front of my face.

Ian also dusted off crumbs from his shirt as she had deigned to feed him somewhere along the line when his stomach betrayed him with a growl. "Do you not know how to eat? Or feed?", Ian rolled his eyes as the crumbs seemed to have gotten everywhere. "Don't blame me, you nearly bit my hand like seven times", she bit back. Ian held back a mischievous grin as he had indeed tried to bite her hand. It was a thing of impulse, her hand was right there, he was overwhelmed with the urge to bite it, and so he tried. Later in his life, Ian would come to learn about a little something called cute aggression .

“You did this. My family’s paying a debt that never ends because of you.” The man reached out, his hand stretching longer, twisting into a shadow that tightened around June’s throat. “The debt isn’t mine anymore,” the Hunger whispered. “The debt belongs to whoever holds the Book. Give it to me, and time will move again. I’ll eat the pages, and the world will turn.” “If you eat the pages, the recipes are gone!” June choked out, clawing at the shadow. “The world will move, but there’ll be no bread, no life!”

With Julian’s arm wrapped around me, we walked away, leaving Greg standing there alone, watching as blood dripped from his hand onto the ground, blooming into vivid red stains. His cries and his pain could no longer make me look back because I had found my happiness. The person who was willing to give me both respect and devotion was right beside me.

“Did you just… why would you put your finger in my mouth?!” The amusement that had filled my chest a moment ago was snuffed out instantly, replaced by the coldness I had always had. I Withdrew my hand as my face hardened as usual. “You seemed hungry,” I said, “I was only helping you with your dream meal.” Her mouth fell open slightly before snapping. “That is the most ridiculous thing!” she huffed, throwing the book at my chest. I caught it effortlessly as I tilted my head at her. “Is it?” I mused. “Because from where I was standing, you were practically begging to be fed.”

My father used to treat me like a princess, but after his death, my world fell apart, leaving me to fend for myself in a harsh reality. "Hand it over! You thief, bit**," he yelled, his rage visible when my ear was hurting from the man's cursing. Nonetheless, I refused to give in to his aggression. For a split second, our gazes locked, and my defiance made him pause. I tried hard not to let my rage consume me. But hunger was stronger than my pride. I sank my teeth into the bread, thankful for the momentary reprieve from my nagging hunger. He surged at me, his need to take the bread outweighing my grip. He snatched the final bit from my grasp with savage force, leaving me defeated.

“Since the turning. I can’t, it won’t stop—” “Because you need to feed and fuck at the same time. The two hungers satisfy each other.” He pulled his hand away, and I whimpered at the loss. “I’m going to bite you while I fuck you. It’ll hurt at first, but then it’ll feel better than anything you’ve ever experienced. Do you trust me?” “No.” But I tilted my head anyway, exposing my throat. “Do it anyway.”

"Why do you call me that? You always call me that and I've never been able to figure out why." "Little Fighter? Because it's what you are." The honestly in his eyes was breathtaking. I frowned, "But I'm not. I mean I know I'm not exactly statuesque but I'm really not a fighter. Never have been." If I could fight maybe I wouldn't have frozen that night. Head tilted to the side Max seemed to study me, puzzled. "That's exactly what you are. You got bitten and it didn't break you. You adapted to a whole new life without cracking. That's fighting if ever I saw it."

He still hates me but I know deep down somewhere in his heart he also loves me. I was walking through the forest when I felt a pain in my stomach I never felt something of this sort before. It was like something was churning inside it I supported muself on the bark of the tree I vomited out whatever I had eaten It didn't end here It was followed by coughs I placed my hand on.my mouth But when I saw my hand my blood froze cold My hand was coated with a black substance I knew what was happening I have read it once in a book but it was just not possible.

“How badly do you want it?” She lowered her head. “I’ll do anything.” He picked up a piece of croissant, bit it, chewed slowly. “Good. Because you’re going to eat from my hand.” He broke off a piece, then lowered it to her lips. She opened her mouth and took it, her eyes stinging with tears. Not from the humiliation. From the heat crawling under her skin at how wrong it felt to want this. He fed her slowly. Bite after bite, making her lick his fingers clean, making her earn every crumb.