Hand Job Story Novels & Stories

“So, overall, dude looks like shit. I don’t know when the last time he’s bathed, or eaten a healthy meal, or what. He’s losing it. But his hand? Girl. Girl. Your man did a number! Honestly, I’m genuinely shocked they didn’t amputate.” The compassionate Good Citizen in me, the one who abides by the law and cares for people no matter how bad they are, cringes. The Bad Bitch who’s carrying a mob boss’s baby doesn’t give a flying fuck. Actually, she does—in that she wants to see the thorough job her man did to her enemy. “You wouldn’t happen to have a picture, would you?” I cannot believe I just asked that. “No, sorry. I was too busy trying to get his ugly ass out of my apartment. But if you wan

Look at me ,I am not wearing my shirt ,let me change first . Sia nod and said :”Okay ,I am waiting outside ,come fast “.She tried to walk but she could not then she realized he is still holding her hand , she look at their hand and asked :”What happened ? Why are you holding my hand ?”. “I have injury on my hand , how can change by myself so ,I need your help to wear my shirt “:He said while showing his injured hand . She look around so ,she can find anyone who could help him , she slowly said :”Let me bring someone to help you “.

says Khana. She grabbed Henry's hand which the latter withdrew. Little did she know, Henry had to withdraw his hand before he was killed by the volt circulating around his body as soon as he felt her soft hands. "Please do not do unnecessary things. Although I promised to cooperate, something like a physical touch is never part of that promise," says Henry. Khana grabbed the wine instead and drank several ounces of the intoxicating liquid. "Stop drinking and let me hear whatever you want to ask so we can close our chapter. I want us to be history... nothing more... nothing less."

"I had your back, and you trashed my name. Now people think I'm just like you. You make me sick." They expected me to lose it. To cry, scream, beg for sympathy. Instead, I walked to the bathroom, treated the burn, then packed up my stuff and walked out—head high, not a word. They thought they were defending workplace morals by trashing the 'homewrecker.' But a few days later, every inbox in that office lit up with the same video. Me, climbing out a third-story window with Nadine in my arms. Me, kneeling in the rain, begging a stranger to save my baby.

Michel says as he stands next to Liam. "Easy dude!" Michel, Liam says. "Of course, but first look at this carpet, those fucking girls, these chains on my neck, these gold teeth, these rings that made me rich," Handa says, chuckling. "Sure, but what did you do after my father died? You took half of the stock and opened a hookers shop on the corner, where you work as a gangster?" While clenching his teeth, Liam says. "Oh oh oh alright, I got it, may we take it to the room then? I don't want my man to listen to your dark hours" Handa tenderly whispers into Liam's ears as they get up and walk inside the room, where they sit on the sofa.

He watched the sun sink a little lower, and as soon as the lulling orange light drifted to a patchwork of blue, he rose from the floor with a shirt in hand and walked to Samantha. “I’ll be back, baby,” he whispered through her hair and kissed her on the forehead. Sam sniffled and clutched the duvet closer around her, half-muttering something about love. His heart felt like taffeta and baked cheese. Just one more job, he willed to her mind as he stepped out of the bedroom, heading downstairs. ~~ No one had ever really seen The Hand of God. It was a name that he had grown up with when he was younger and more inexperienced. Before Sir. John had taken him in and taught him and some other childre

I came out with some jelly candies. “Here” I said handing them to his bruised hands. They looked fresh, it was as if someone had been cutting his hand with ropes, not just ropes the rope that are used to tie a goat down. “What happened to your hands?” I asked. He quickly moved them away from my sight and said nothing but his eyes gathered tears. I moved closer to him as I hugged him. I felt his steaming tears wetting the shoulder of my jersey. “Shh, it’s okay you can tell me” I said softly while I brushed his back.

They stared at me. Liliana frowned in annoyance. "What tricks are you trying to pull now?" I stared straight at her and spoke slowly. "Since we're telling different stories, and the cameras are down, let's settle this another way. Let's play a hand of blackjack on this table. If I win, you apologize to me in front of everyone and admit you framed me. If I lose…" I paused and raised my right hand before continuing, "Do whatever you want with this hand of mine."

Instead, he chose to take Ava to get a shallow cut treated. Luca clutched the report and fell to his knees amid the torn papers. On the back of the report, I had left one line. The handwriting was faint but steady. [Let me go.] It was the only thing I had ever begged from him in ten years. That night, the lights in the Bellandi estate stayed on until dawn. Luca pulled the security footage and finally saw Ava step back on purpose, smash her own wrist against the coffee table, and smile when he looked away. He also found that the South Harbor emergency had been a trap. Ava had delayed payment records to force him to choose between us again and again.

Henry would have left without a second thought, business first, and everyone else later “No apology needed,” I said, taking his hand. The moment our palms touched, a strange warmth spread through my fingers. It wasn't sparks or butterflies, just comfort. As though I’d met someone my soul had been searching for without realizing it. He seemed to notice it too because his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. “You okay?” he asked. I quickly pulled my hand back. “Sorry.” He chuckled. “I’ve never had a handshake leave someone speechless before.” Heat crept into my cheeks. “There’s a first time for everything.”