Firmly Grasp It Novels & Stories

I’m as charged as I am edged with yet another thing slipping through my grasp. His long dark hair becomes the leash I grab on to. The control I need with it spiraling. Visual reminders, physical barriers that hold me back, and keep me in check. The flex isn’t rough, I don’t put an ounce of real pressure in the grip that tells him to get down to business before I lose my shit and obliterate his ass. Rather than down, he comes up from the soft points he’s been working on. Joining our mouths again with a hungry moan of excitement. Grimm’s grind so close to any female I’ve had; so wet and impatient for dick they can’t sit still.

he said quietly, "do you really think you can walk away from this deal untouched?" My heart tightened. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't read at all. His grip wasn't painful, but it was firm enough that I couldn't pull free.

I walked harder, my legs pumping, the trees closing in. He grabbed me quickly, his fingers wrapping around my arm. His grip was not violent, but it was firm, unyielding. It gave me a shock, a direct jolt of the bond, and an inrush of his calculating mind, his cold control, overran my senses. It was too much.

them, but they simply keep a firm grip on me. “C̸̡̡̨̡̡͎͓͍͔̥̭̗̼̝̬̤̖̳̈́̄́̈́̐̔͒͋͗̀͘ỏ̴͎̖͆̀͑m̶̡͚͎͈̲̥̤̞̱̦̟̼̭̖̦͇͋e̷̡͙̺̻̱͖̝͖͉̖̓́͆͂̏̄̄͊̽͆͠ ̷̡̠͙̭́̽͗̂̌͌͂́̕͜ẗ̵̘͖͖̜͉͛̽̂͋̀̈͑͋̒̃͛̒̑͘̚ͅo̴

My grip slam him extremely hard against the tough door. He cries He screench and groan against the wall Well I care less My chocking grip around him tightens over second It continually drain every life force within him Well it'll drain his last life atom and drop him lifeless and dead if he airs no words Am never releasing my grip expect he commence explanation "What's your discovery?!" I snar He fumble with his words My grip tightens more My palm gradually morph into it's beastial form

His eyes burned into me as his other hand came up, gripping my jaw—firm, unyielding, just tight enough to make sure I couldn't move even if I wanted to. "This pussy of yours—" His hand slid down between my legs, cupping me deliberately, possessively. "I've fucked it to my size. Drilled it into remembering me." His thumb pressed harder, claiming. "It's mine. Branded. Claimed. Forever." My breath hitched, but I didn't look away.

He caught my wrist midair, his grip iron-tight, pain shooting through me. "Do not ever do that again," he said sharply, his face unreadable, cold as stone.

Not now. Instead, I tighten my hold around her just slightly, anchoring both of us in something real. No one takes her again. No one even tries.

Mine is loose in his grasp, but his grip is tight, possessive, and reassuring. ​I feel a brief spike of anxiety build alongside a familiar flash of fear. I look around at our surroundings; the usual blur blocks me from seeing if anyone nearby is wearing a hateful or judging expression, leaving me feeling momentarily vulnerable to the outside world. I have to force myself not to pull my hand from Lucian's grasp, despite the way my stomach tightly coils with an old, lingering anguish.

Not with those words hanging between us. I lunged, my hand shooting out, grabbing her arm before she could reach the doorknob. My grip was firm, meant to stop, to hold, but not to hurt. "You're not leaving until you listen to me!" I barked, my voice raw with desperation and fury, my fingers digging slightly into her bicep.