Hands Pinned Above Head Novels & Stories

Vivian commanded softly. ​She did not flinch against his possessive, iron grip. Instead, she raised her uninjured left hand, her small, pale fingers wrapping firmly around the side of his neck. Her cold palm pressed over his frantic, thudding pulse point, acting as an instant anchor against his chaotic, protective fury until his fierce gaze was forced to lock entirely onto hers.

she ordered flatly. The heavy metal clicked loudly, and suddenly my hands were completely free. Kai’s cuffs fell to the gravel a second later with a dull clink. I didn't waste a single breath or look back at the corporate ruins. I reached out instantly and grabbed his hand, locking my fingers into his with a fierce, unbreakable grip.

There are also bars on the wall. “Give your hands, palms up,” he says. Clasping each of the cuffs onto a hand. They look very intimidating yet they are soft on the inside. Making sure that they were not too tight but firm, he then takes each of them and locks them to a bar above my head so that my arms are spread. Slowly, he runs his hands down the inside of my arms. He starts kissing my neck as his hands go to my waist. I can not hold it in and give a soft moan as my head rolls back, giving him more access.

Then he gave the other arm the same treatment. Sarah's hands tugged at his shirt, pulling the tails from his khakis. He was sorry now he'd worn something with buttons. He was tempted to just rip the shirt open in his haste, buttons be damned. But somehow Sarah managed and shoved the garment from his shoulders. Impatiently he broke the contact with her so he could shrug the garment off and toss it away.

I squeeze his neck with my arm and he reaches up, tearing my arm free. "See, I shouldn't be able to do that so easy," he points out. "Okay, so what did I do wrong?" "You wore panties. You shouldn't wear any panties." I freeze, narrowing my brows. He's fucking with me. "Do the move again, only tuck your left hand behind my head to where it's touching your shoulder instead of sitting on my head, and then push your head against mine. This way it locks your hands in to where I can't pull them down."

“That’s exactly how I want you. Starkers and ready for me. But first things first.” He walked to the head of the table, trailing the tail of the sash up her body and smiling as she bit her lip to keep from giggling. “Raise your hands above your head,” he ordered, smiling as she obeyed without hesitation. “I’m going to restrain you a bit differently. I don’t want you to be able to lower your arms.”

They fell back into my lap, disappointed that they failed to catch their query. Long, strong fingers wrapped around my wrists and lifted them above my head, pressing the palms together. Holding them there myself, he released his grip. My breath caught for a second as the smooth satin of another ribbon wrapped around my wrists, the ends fed up between my hands instead of tying them off, draping down my arms freely.

Her legs, still weak from her orgasm, threaten to buckle beneath her, but he supports her, using his own body as an unyielding brace. His hands shoot up, catching her wrists, pinning her arms over her head. Her fingers splay against the wall, palms flat, a desperate, futile attempt to push away, to create a barrier. He holds them there, firm, unyielding, effectively rendering her helpless, exposed. She stares up at him, her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat, a choked sound escaping her.

I whisper, my voice cracking. I place my palms against his chest, trying to shove him back, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. He doesn't budge. Instead, he lets out a low, dark chuckle that vibrates under my fingers. He reaches up and takes hold of my wrists. His thumbs trace slow, rhythmic circles against the sensitive nerves of my inner wrists, a touch so deliberate it makes my skin prickle. He easily lifts my hands away from his chest, pinning them above my head.

The position of having his back to the door gave Moreau the prospect of only paying attention to the man's shoulders. Perhaps she needed to underline something; the whole thing revealed how the hand—dotted with veins that seemed to come to the surface was in a position to pull the lever back with both legs straight, then Abihirt would return to the front covered by the position of the legs bent near the chest.