Firmly Grasp It Novels & Stories

Grabbing his hand tightly, I refused to let go, even as he tried to shake me off. I clung to his hand like my life depended on it, struggling against his strength. My face contorted with effort and desperation. "It’s okay. Come with me," I said softly, trying to soothe him. Slowly, his urge to strike again began to fade, though his fiery gaze remained locked on Ace.

Every step he took seemed to echo louder than it should, a reminder that escape was impossible. Soren’s hand suddenly shot out, capturing mine with a grip that was firm and possessive, almost a touch desperate, as if letting go wasn’t an option. My breath hitched, and I froze in place, the suddenness of the action sending a jolt down my spine. His hand was warm, rough at the fingertips, the veins on the his arm prominent and pulsing with tension.

And this time— she wouldn’t be the one caught off guard. Her grip on her phone tightened again. Her expression hardened. “You chose the wrong person to play with.”

Tomorrow we'd deal with the impending problem, for now as long as Ava's happy, then I'm okay Tristan just caught them More drama coming ahead 😁😁😁

I swallowed hard. “What the—Francis!” I tried to push him away, but he grabbed my arm immediately. “What do you want?” I glared at him. “Why are you so slow sometimes? Can’t you see?” he hissed. “See what?!” “Stay away from him. Because what’s mine is mine. Do you understand?” “Let go of me,” I said through clenched teeth. “No.” “Let go of me!” He tightened his grip. “Let go!”

The words arrived and I was prepared for them, I had known they were coming from the moment I started the sentence, and being prepared for them did not stop them from landing the way they landed. I had begun to formulate the response, the careful one that would introduce the necessary complexity, when his hand closed around mine. Firm. Warm. The specific grip of someone who has decided something and is putting that decision into physical form, not the grip of someone grasping out of instinct or desperation but the deliberate, chosen grip of someone who has stopped calculating what the grip communicates and has simply taken hold. Ethan.

she ordered flatly. The heavy metal clicked loudly, and suddenly my hands were completely free. Kai’s cuffs fell to the gravel a second later with a dull clink. I didn't waste a single breath or look back at the corporate ruins. I reached out instantly and grabbed his hand, locking my fingers into his with a fierce, unbreakable grip.

As I attempted to move past him, he swiftly grabbed my hand with an unexpected force, compelling me to halt and turn towards him. His gaze met mine, and his eyes seemed to chill even further. "Wouldn't the $20 million I spent to buy you go to waste if I let you go?" Desperate to break free, I attempted to retrieve my hand from his grasp. However, his hold only tightened, sending a sharp jolt of pain coursing through my veins. "I don't understand what you're implying. Release my hand this instant!" I protested, struggling against his hold. Rising to his feet, he squarely faced me, locking eyes once more. "Don't you recall who I am?"

Firm. His fingers are digging deep into my flesh, the pressure intense. I can literally feel my intestines being squeezed and crushed. My heart starts to race. I try to move away, but his grip is nothing compared to my midnight strength. His arm is like a cage on me. He doesn't let go. If anything, it pain intensifies.

It was like a wild animal that she desperately wanted to pet, and so she seized it, capturing it in her grasp. She gripped it like she never wanted to let go, squeezing it and feeling its enormous girth. This was not the time to be gentle, and as she clasped it she felt blood flow and veins bulge. In her heart and in her head she knew that this was incredible, unreal, and something that she was going to tackle with gusto.