Hands Pinned Above Head Novels & Stories

“Out here on the street?!” “Out there on the street. No one’s going to know what you’re doing. They’ll think you’re standing there with your thumb touching your other fingers, that’s all.” “…can I hide my hand while I do it?” “Of course.” Clutching my hand under the arm holding the phone, I bent my fingers in a ‘C’ and touched the tip of my thumb to the tip of my middle finger. “Are you doing it?” “Yes.” “Now I want you to close your eyes.”

The instant my fingertips grazed my own skin, his hand snapped around both my wrists like a steel trap. “Wrong move, baby.” In one brutal, seamless motion he wrenched my arms high up my back, folding them tight between my shoulder blades, pinning them there with a single massive hand. My chest slammed forward into the couch, tits crushed against the leather, back arched so sharply my ass lifted even higher, completely exposed, dripping, helpless. My fingers curled uselessly in the air, trapped, trembling.

These people were all dressed in camouflage suits, and each of them had an automatic rifle in their hands! "Don't move!" "Lift your hands up!" "..." A dozen or so young men in camouflage clothes surround Di Shuai and the others and warn them loudly. How could Gislason and his four accomplices afford to raise their hands? All of their wrists had been flicked, and they were already crippled. Only Di Shuai can raise his hands. This brat has never seen such a scene before. He obediently raised his hands above his head. "Don't move, don't move, I raised my hand!"

“Four in, four out.” I want to tell him to go to hell. Instead I inhale. One, two, three, four. Exhale. His chest rises and falls against mine, the hair on his skin an abrasive, intoxicating friction. “There you go,” he murmurs. His hands slide up, catching my wrists. He guides them above my head, fingers brushing the headboard. He doesn't just hold them, he pins them, his grip a manacle of flesh and bone. His thumbs rest over my pulse points.

Cross fingers. But although I am trying to be patient while waiting for Mr. Almiro to make his mind and decide by himself, I still could not help but feel disheartened, more so when I could see how adamant he was acting to avoid me. Only a blind man would not see his intention and since I am not one, I could definitely notice how he was trying his best to keep his eyes off of me. The other party has his head turned into a weird angle to the point that you could almost mistake him for a roaming undead. But not only that, but when I tried to pay close attention to him, I realized that Mr. Almiro was holding his position. I could tell that he was really trying so hard, so hard that I could al

Chapter 19 – Heat I struggled against Devin, attempting to twist and pull my arms from his grasp but it was useless. He held firm with one hand wrapped around both my wrists pinning them above my head, and moved his right leg in between mine, pressed his hips down onto me. He dipped his head down, bringing his lips against my cheek, and causing sparks to scatter down my body.

I shook my hand slightly to free the knife I had slipped up the sleeves of my dress and raised my hand high above my head as if I wanted to caress him, where he wouldn't be able to see me and… I plunged it straight down.

It came from a man with long hair who was standing on top of a cliff. The man lowered his hand. He took a deep breath before raising both of his hands in front of him and put his left foot forward—as if preparing a stance. Jai could see the man raising his right hand upward, while his left hand stayed in front of him. His stance was almost similar to the alphabet letter K. Small sparks started gathering on the man’s left hand, andafter a few breaths, Jai saw the man punched his right fist forward and thick thunder shot out of his outstretched fist.

I pushed against his chest, a desperate, futile attempt to create distance. My hand, surprisingly, fell flat against his sculpture, bare chest, smooth, warm skin of his pectorals, taut and unyielding beneath my palm. The warmth startled me, a jolt of something akin to desire cutting through the anger. But I pushed harder, aiming to dislodge him. He didn’t budge an inch. Instead, his free hand, lightning fast, caught my wrist. His fingers closed around it, strong and possessive. With a soft click, it was pinned above my head, joining his other arm, caging me completely.

"Raise them." He lifted his arms without hesitation, pressing his wrists together above his head against the iron scrollwork of the headboard. The position made his chest expand, muscles flexing under his skin. I'd seen him kill men with those hands. Watched him break bones and spill blood without flinching. Now they were mine to bind.