Get A Grip Novels & Stories

"You like being handled that way?" I tried to speak, but the pressure on my neck was too intense, so I only nodded my head. His grip tightened even more, and my cock twitched against his thigh. He smiled slowly, answering his own question. "Yeah. You do." His other hands slid down my chest and found my cock, wrapping around the base. His grip was firm, and his palm was rough with calluses. He stroked me slowly, from base to tip, his thumb spreading the bead of precum across the tip of my cock.

My feet had already been moving. And then her hand had closed around my arm. I'd almost pulled away. Would have, if something in her grip hadn't been — deliberate. Not desperate. Not the grab of someone trying to stop me from leaving. The grip of someone who had been waiting for exactly this moment to say exactly this thing, and had understood that she wouldn't have long.

Enzo spoke slowly. He gave me time to process his words and carry them out. I nodded, planting my legs on the floor. “There’s going to be a kickback so you want to make sure your support hand is responsible for about 70% of your grip power, and your right hand?” Enzo finished with a question to test my retention. “Thirty percent,” I answered. I closed my eyes for a small second. He stepped back and I rolled my shoulders. “Relax,” Enzo said with a smug smile.

It creates a strange, syncopated rhythm with my own racing pulse. "Grip," he says. He slides his hands up from my hips, trailing heat along my sides. He reaches around my arms, his large hands engulfing mine on the gun. "High on the tang," he instructs, guiding my hands. "Thumbs forward. Squeeze the grip like you're trying to crush it." He tightens his own grip over mine. His skin is rough, calloused. The friction is electric. "Look down the sights," he whispers. I lift the gun. The front sight settles between the rear notch.

I would know. He grips until the point where I can feel my bones beginning to grind against each other. "Let me go! Freak!" I growl. "Listen to me first," says Dane as he holds me down. I try again to get out from under him, but his grip only tightens. "There's nothing to talk about," I growl out. If I can just get my right hand out, I can pull out my gun and threaten him. Maybe even put him down. "Yes," says Dane as he leans forward, "there is."

"Well I'm glad you called because I wanted to clarify things and inform you that I'm doing great and and remarried, so I don't think your request is going to be met. Sorry!" She cut the line.

His eyes snapped open, Glowing red. His fangs slid out slowly. Sweat beaded on his forehead. And suddenly, His hand shot out. Grabbing her arm. Hard. She gasped. His grip tightened. Too tight. Claws pressed into her skin. Pain shot through her instantly. “Why did you lie to me?” he growled. Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What? Aiden, I didn’t—” But he wasn’t listening. His breathing grew harsher. His grip tightened further.

Before I could pull my hand away, a broad, calloused grip snapped around my wrist. I gasped, my heart leaping into my throat. The hold on my wrist was iron-clad, completely unyielding. I tried to pull back, but the raw strength behind the grip anchored me to the spot. Slowly, the long, thick eyelashes flutched open.

My mouth quietly exhales a breath of true relief, sharing in their beautiful joy. Suddenly, my bare wrist is seized in a super firm, crushing grip.

The touch felt like a slug crawling across my skin. I recoiled, my instincts finally snapping into place. Let go of me," I said, yanking my hand back. His grip tightened instead. "Let go," I commanded, attempting to fling his hand away. He simply smiled wider, unbothered by my obvious distress.