Gloves Off Novels & Stories

That was when my heart shattered. Now he still didn't get it. The gloves didn't matter. I shook him off and rubbed my sore wrist. "I'm doing great now. Mind your own business." He eyed me suspiciously, and I sighed, "Plus, I'm married. If my husband saw you grabbing me like this, he'd flip." Alex stepped back. Shock was written all over his face. "You got married behind my back?"

"Chelsea already feels bad about taking your marriage registration spot. She even bought you a gift to apologize, and yet you're still making a fuss over it. Honestly, the one who acts like a child is you." I looked over, and it was a half-eaten souffle. I said coldly, "I'm allergic to eggs. I can't eat that. And I'm not a trash bin who takes leftovers." Tears brimmed in Chelsea's eyes. "Benny, I know Giselle thinks my gift is cheap, but… this is already the best I can afford. If she doesn't like it, she can just say so. Why does she have to be all sarcastic?"

“No, it’s fine. I already committed to the outfit.” That earns me a real smile. “Fair enough.” He steps over to the sink, washes his hands, then grabs a pair of gloves and starts explaining what he’ll be doing, each step in detail, like a very attractive human instruction manual. I nod along and try to act normal, like I’m not about to bare my soul and cervix to a man who looks like he could be cast as “Hot Divorced Professor” in a N*****x drama. ⸻

He rolls his stool closer. His fingers are still inside me – two gloved fingers in my pussy, his other hand on my abdomen. He withdraws them slowly. Looks at the latex – glistening, coated in my arousal, strings of wetness connecting his fingers as he spreads them. "You're extremely responsive," he says. His voice has dropped. The clinical warmth is still there but underneath it is something raw. "I should examine that more carefully." He peels off one glove. Then the other. His bare hands – warm, dry, long-fingered – rest on my inner thighs. Skin on skin. The shock of it – after twenty minutes of latex – makes me gasp.

“I’m not saying you’re stupid, I’m just saying that people from small towns have this bad habit of being to friendly to people they are not acquainted. And open up easily about everything in their lives as if bad the world it’s social paradise and no harm could get to them. “Here things are different. You must keep your mouth shut even about simple things as the shoes you plan to wear.” “What a wild environment, then” I’m out of words, again. “It is, indeed. So I ask you again, do you accept the agreement?” What else could I do after that little show at the hotel? Someone had rolled the dice already. “I fucking do.”

I didn't have my gloves on as I did all this, it was after I finished washing my bloody hands that I slipped on my gloves. I observed my left hand which was covered in a glove, and my right hand which I haven't yet worn. My eyes darkened as I continued observing my real hand, my jaw clenching and unclenching. Only if it was possible that I could be without gloves for an hour, but I couldn't. Jeopardy would be the outcome if I want to give it a try again. When Scarlett used her fingers to cause a blockage of my hemorrhaging, I was quietly observing her hands. The reason for which I wear gloves isn't a casual reason, it was very uncasual.

“Yeah, I’m not touching the thing heaven knows where it’s been” I screw up my face and shiver in disgust at the thought. I point to the corner “I’d wear gloves if I were you, who knows what you could catch of him” Ben snorts shaking his head but he turns grabbing gloves and pulls them on “You can’t be fucking serious! You can’t fucking do this” I snort looking back at the bastard “Oh I can and I am” Ben walks towards him and nods to the guards

He peered at the monitor screen he worked to her body. He put on a glove and grabbed a scissors and a tray containing some items he needs. "If you need my help, I'm a step away from the door." I couldn't bear the sight of my J been operated on, the blood and her lifeless form. A few minutes later, he came out, his gloves soaked with blood, he slipped it off and there were still smears of blood on his pale palms. There are beads of sweat on his forehead and he wiped it off with the back of his hands. He pulled his coat and tossed over the chair before settling tiredly over it. I watched him, my hands read his gaze; its calm and for a moment I'm at peace.

I’d as good as written my name on the walls in my own blood. I forced my lungs to slow down. Focus. First rule: don’t think about the body. Not yet. Think about the room. Think about what they’ll see when they get here. I pulled a pair of thin leather gloves from my pocket, ones I’d kept in case the night turned dirty, and slipped them on. I crouched beside Silas. The smell of him was different now, sweat, gunpowder, that copper tang of blood creeping out from the side of his head. My stomach tightened.

"Be careful. You're so big." "You asked for this, Giselle," I muttered, opening my drawer and pulling out some baby oil and a pair of gloves. "Now you’re going to see exactly what you been begging for." I reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a bottle of baby oil and a pair of latex gloves. I didn't say a word as I snapped the gloves onto my hands, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Giselle watched me with wide, nervous eyes, her small chest heaving.