Novel & Cerita Get A Grip

The words hung in the air, a challenge, a declaration of war. With that, I spun on my heel, turning my back to him. But before I could take a step forward, he was there, his presence like a wall behind me. His hand shot out, grabbing my forearm, stopping me in my tracks. His grip was firm, unyielding. a hand that grips my arm and squeezes too tight. . He caught me and I felt an inmes pressure on my arm and had a vise-like grip on my arm. He could rip my arm out of my torso.My heart was pounding out of my chest. He could hear it.

My steps paused due to his tight grip on my hand and his shouting, "How dare you have to walk away from me without replying anything to me ??." Realizing that prolonging his rage further would lead me to face unwanted problem. Therefore, I told him in low tone, "Sorry sir. Please leave my hand. I have to go urgently." Contrary to my thought that he would leave my hand after my apology, I felt his tight grip on my chin. He made me to look him using his grip on my chin. My chin pained due to his grip. Eventhough I want to remove his grip from my face, I was feared that he would get angry if I touch him. I know that he don't like to be touched by someone like me. Therefore, I stood quietly and

When I see Reese Chapman again, it is exactly three years after I sever our mate bond. It is also the third year since I completely seal my wolf and hide at the edge of the Shadow pack territory, living as an insignificant healer. Tonight, the air in the clinic feels heavy and icy under his overwhelming aura. He carries a lightly injured female companion in his arms and forcibly takes over the best VIP ward in the clinic. During my shift, he summons me three times through his guards. The first time, he coldly orders, "There are wolfsbane fragments on the bedsheets. Change them." I send an apprentice herbalist to handle it. Two hours later, he has a nurse relay another order. "The smell

The particular kind of grip that was not an accident or a reaction but a decision made in advance of the moment. I scratched at his face with everything I had, nails first, aiming for the eyes the way the trainer had been explicit about, and he pulled back enough that the grip loosened and I got one hand free and screamed. Not for help. Not a frightened sound. The kind of scream that was tactical, that was designed to be heard at distance, that the trainer had told me was a weapon in itself. I kicked him in the knee. He went sideways.

Things were still tense between us and I haven't gotten over the fact that he called me a slut. “Alright then, I'll teach you.” Came his response as he walked towards me. He stood behind me, taking hold of the club that was previously in my hand. “First, let’s start with the grip, okay?” I nodded my head to his words. The club is the first step in it. You first of all have to hold it as if you are shaking your hand with it. Your left hand should be on top and the right hand should slightly overlap. Is that clear?” He demonstrated and I nodded my head, doing as he had said with his assistance.

Under the cover of the heavy shadows and the crowded floor, his large, bare hand shot out. His fingers didn't just catch me—they wrapped around my bare waist with a brutal, crushing force. His grip dug deep into the silk of my dress, his palm burning hot against my skin through the thin fabric, anchoring my hips tightly against his front. It was an aggressive, marking hold. A silent, terrifying reminder of exactly who I belonged to. "Careful, garage girl," his voice rumbled, a low, vibration against the nape of my neck that sent a violent, throbbing shudder straight down to my thighs.

My entire posture goes rigid, my jaw locking instantly as my wolf hits the surface. "What are you holding in your hand?" The demand leaves my throat steady but dripping with pure heat. And people wonder why I don't play nice with the lower ranks. Every single time I soften my grip, it comes back to bite me. His dark brows knit together as his eyes drop down to my property, his throat moving as he swallows hard.

I can’t understand and she's getting further away. “Hey. HEY! Breathe Midge, you have to get control, now!” I feel a grip on my shoulders, they are strong and demanding, but they don’t hurt me. “Take a deep breath and open your eyes.” The deep, gruff voice is softer now with a hint of concern. “What was that Midge?”

He jerks again, and one of his hands grabs my hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs something to grip before he loses his goddamn mind. I hum low in my throat, letting the vibrations ripple through him, and that’s it. That’s what gets him. His whole body shudders like he just got electrocuted. His other hand shoots out, clutching the couch again, knuckles white. “Fucking hell… Blazeee…” His voice breaks on my name like it’s the last thing holding him to earth. I don’t stop. I speed up, bobbing faster, letting spit drip down my chin and onto my hand where I’m gripping the base. I feel like a damn pornstar right now. If there’s a camera in this room, it deserves an award.

“So fuck off.” Rough hands grab my shoulders, wrists, and suddenly I’m being pulled. My hurt wrist screams with pain. My feet dig into the tile but the two guys are too strong for me. With a yank, I’m jolted forward and only avoid falling on my face thanks to their death grip on my arms.