Firmly Grasp It Novels & Stories

I tried to release my hand but his grip was tight just like the wrinkling of his brows were getting worse. “Don’t go. Please stay, Rose”

He fisted my hairs in a tight grip making me hiss in pain and like he isn't satisfied with this that he holds my jaw in a tight grip as well. "Listen me and listen me good butterfly never ever fucking dare to push me away from you. You're fucking mine and I can do anything I want to do with you. Keep this thing in your super active brain. It's the last time you pushed me away from you understand?" he asked and kept my mouth shut " Answer me butterfly "he said and tighten his hold on my hairs like he will rip them off from my scalp. " Yes. "I gritted out and he left me with a smile

I’m physically exhausted and breathing hard, but thеrе’ѕ nо way I’m gіvіng іn. Thе chokehold I mаnаgе to fіrm uр wіll soon ѕtор him brеаthіng еnоugh fоr hіm tо раѕѕ оut. I tіghtеn mу grip. Mу wrіѕtѕ ache but I реrѕіѕt. Yоu’vе gоt tо tаkе whаt уоu wаnt іn this life оr іt’ll bе tаkеn frоm уоu.

Her determination to escape the conversation was evident as she tried to free herself from my grip. I stood my ground, unwavering in my determination to understand what was going on with Blaire. My grip remained firm as I replied with a sense of urgency, "No, until you talk, you're not going anywhere." The situation was too concerning to let it slide, and I needed to get to the bottom of it.

I gasped, and flinched as he grabbed hold of my forearms in a firm but gentle grip, whispering; “You are not moving an inch until you tell me what the hell he was referring to.”

He grabs my wrist. His fingers clamp down hard, not bruising, not forceful enough to leave a mark, but tight. Too tight. It stops me mid-motion, my body snapping to stillness. His grip is cold and possessive, and he doesn’t even look like he’s trying to restrain me. He looks like he thinks he’s reminding me. I twist, yanking my arm, but he holds on. “Let go of me,” I say, loud enough to catch the attention of the couple beside us.

“Please don’t go.” His grip was weak but insistent, fingers laced through mine, holding on like I was the only solid thing in a world that had turned liquid and unstable beneath him. Even as sleep pulled him under he didn’t let go, didn’t release me, kept me tethered to him in a way that felt both suffocating and necessary.

The next; I gasped as his fingers dug into my hips, his grip bruising, possessive, unyielding. The world tilted, my balance shattering as he yanked me forward, lifting me like I weighed nothing, like I was his to manhandle, his to position, his to fucking own. "Wha?"

Her gaze is fixed firmly ahead, her grip tight, almost desperate. And for the first time tonight, I feel like maybe we’re on the same page after all.

His grip on me—tight, strong. “There are more of these. Trust me.” I didn’t know why, but the way he said it made my chest tighten.