Novel & Cerita Hand To Hold On To

He takes his hand from his jacket pocket. Not reaching .... not the gesture of someone claiming something or moving toward a moment they have designed. Just the hand, coming out of the pocket, moving to where my hand is at my side .... the hand holding the empty coffee cup, the hand that has been warm for two hours from what he brought me .... and taking it. Loosely. Completely without drama. The hold of someone who is not making a point but is simply .... holding. Not a claim. A hold. I look down at our hands.

"I won't." He reaches over Lincoln. He takes my hand. He holds it. His thumb rubs over my knuckles, the way a person does when they are not used to holding hands, the way a person does when they have not held a hand in a long time, the way a person does when they are being careful with a small new thing. I do not pull my hand away.

The hand I had known my whole life. I turned my hand over. Palm up. And held it.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Thеу’rе ѕо plump, аnd thе urge to rеасh out аnd рut my finger оn thе bоttоm оnе is оvеrwhеlmіng. I lооk hіm іn the еуе, and I do that with mу іndеx fіngеr. Hе hаѕ оnе hand on mу ѕhоuldеr, аnd I return thе fаvоr.

My hands went under her body, holding tight as I moved over it. You can see her hands clinging to the sheet. I kneeled, watching her curl up. My hand came down, marking her ass and making her squirm on the bed. Olivia stood up a little more. I could feel her hand stop on my thigh. She moaned loudly, leaving my cock even harder. My hands held her waist tightly, watching her moan nonstop, but I had to control my strength not to hurt her. Although I can not transform, I still have an unusual strength.

"Deal!" Serenity replied without any hesitation, "I'll never let go. I'll hold onto your hand even if my arm breaks. But Jack... I hope that, one day, you won't let me go either. After all..." Her eyes similarly shifted to their hands. "It's stronger when both of us hold onto each other, isn't it?" His fingers moved a little, almost imperceptibly. After he heard her say that, he actually felt the urge to hold her hand...

It had been stuffed full, and it was still stuffed full. She carried it back over to where he stood but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She held it out to him, her hand shaking so badly that he caught her hand in his to stop the trembling. When she tried to pull back, he tightened his grip and held on, fearing that if he let her go he’d never get her back.

His strides are confident and sure. “Let me have her”. His voice that sets fire to body instructs me. He doesn't need to tell me twice. I handed his daughter to him. He holds her in his right arm against the left side of his broad chest, her head on his shoulder. His left warm hand takes a hold of mine before I can move away. He doesn't just hold them, he intertwines them. I shoot my vision to our intertwined hand then to his perfectly sculpted face. His eyes hold mine.

His touch is soothing and sure, like he has every right to touch me. “Shhh, you’re safe,” he murmurs, repeating the words like a mantra. “You’re safe.” It’s then that I notice my hand. I’m clutching the front of his shirt, my fingers twisted in the wet fabric, holding on so tightly it almost hurts. The realization makes my breath hitch. I don’t know if it’s desperation or fear, but I can’t bring myself to let go. It’s like my body knows what my mind can’t fully grasp yet—I need him here.

Her hands ripped free from the rough, rocky surface with a sharp sting. She grabbed out again in that general direction with both hands, and her hands slapped against a solid surface. A wall? An unexpected moment later, her fingers caught onto some indented portion of the surface, almost by accident, but she latched on and fought to better secure the handhold she had gained.