Get A Grip Novels & Stories

Luna staggered to her feet, grabbing a fistful of my hair and slamming my head against the wall. A wave of searing pain hit me, nearly knocking me out. My vision blurred, but instinct took over as I gripped her wrist tightly. I lifted my head, exposing my collarbone. I deliberately curled my lips into a mocking smile and sneered. "If York finds out you came here to throw a tantrum, he won't let it slide. Locking me up was his way of protecting me. A man like him, broadcasting to the world that you're his girlfriend—do you really think that's a blessing?"

My breath was restricted, my face was probably the colour of a fine truck. "Next time you pull a stunt like that, there won't be a next time, got it!?" He said his hold was tightening. I wanted to nod or say yes but I couldn't. My hands were just aimlessly trying to loosen his grip, but he wouldn't budge.He let out a growl, his grip tightening. "Understood!?" This ape refused to understand that I couldn't talk or move my head for crying out loud! He was cutting off all my airways.

Without a second thought, I seized the opportunity, gripping onto his fur tightly. With so much happiness coursing through my veins, I wasted no time hoisting myself onto Grimgor's broad back. His powerful muscles tensed beneath me as he prepared to sprint, and I held on tightly, burying my fingers in his fur for a secure grip. The weight of the situation pressed upon us, urging us to move swiftly and leave the pursuing authorities behind.

His hands slip around my ankles in a firm, unhurried grip. He tugs.

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.

At least not anymore. We practiced grip breaks next. His hands wrapped around my wrists to simulate an attacker’s hold. His grip was firm but impersonal, completely different from the magnetic tension that had pulsed through me moments earlier with Darius. “Pull your weight back and twist.” He instructed. I tried but didn’t get it on the first try. He released me and showed me a graphical example of what he meant. Then he gripped me again. “Now, free yourself.” He ordered again. I tried. My body obeyed slowly, stiffly. He corrected my stance again, his fingers tapping my elbow.

Grabbed his finger. Deal. *

Craig says. “I’m not—” “I said downstairs.” His hand grips my upper arm. Not hard. Not gentle. The firm, unyielding grip of a man who expects to be obeyed, and the authority in it, the casual certainty that I will do what he says— sends a pulse of heat between my legs so sudden that my thighs press together.

I saw him tighten his grip on them which causes them to scream in pain. Damn!

F*ck, f*ck, f*ck. It isn't working or maybe it is but too slowly. The grip on our neck tightened, the air was being squeezed out of me. Throat being squeezed so tight no air could make its way to my lungs. I could feel my eyes starting to pop out. Grabbing his wrist with both our hands we were able to get him to let go, pinning him back down to the bed. I doubt John will ever make that mistake again.