Hold Hand Reference Novels & Stories

he moans a bit , but says it in a joking manner. “Here you go…” I place my hand out for him to take , while still trying to contain my laugh. I watch him playfully roll his eyes at me , while he reaches for my hand. I feel my fingers tingle when he places his hand in my own , it felt soothing and ticklish – which is a weird combination. My laughter dies down , as I am now looking at his hand gently holding mine – our hands looked perfect together. His hands rough with callouses , yet holds my hand so gentle as if I were to break. Whilst I look at our hands , I feel a snout on my lower back.

He offers me his hand, palm up like a promise. No hesitation. I take it.

Kneeling down in front of me he narrowed his eyes once more as he held up the palm of his free hand, “Do you know what iron does to those of you’re kind?” Gulping hard I shook my head before looking at it once more. I noticed a symbol scarred into his hand, it must have been burnt into him. He held up the iron symbol and I realized it was the same symbol, “Give me your hand,” He said sternly. Gulping again I frowned as I instinctively pulled my hand against my chest,

She lifted her wrist slightly and slowly clenched one hand into a fist. "Let me show you what real strength looks like."

He's not looking at me, he's looking at his brother and drinking water, but his hand is moving. He's fucking holding my hand. We're fucking holding hands! He held my hand! He's holding my hand! Dang! I thought it will be just for a moment because he let go of my hand after a few seconds. But he just moved my hand. He flipped the position of my hand. Earlier my palm was resting on my legs, now that he flipped it my palm is facing above.

Her other hand then went to the side of my boxers, tugging it down a few times before it fell. She let out a little gasp as I stood completely bare in front of her, only with her one hand covering me. She was about to pull her hand away once she realized what she'd done, but I was quick to hold her hand down so she couldn't move. Pressing on her hand gently, I motioned for both our hands to move in sync. Once she understood what I wanted, I took my hand off her and I just watched her. Her small hand was moving slowly up and down on my length. She put a little bit more pressure with each stroke, and her thumb would rub over the tip every time she reached the end.

I know. He looks at me. "You have her hands," he says. "I noticed this when you were young, and I have not said it until now." He pauses. "The same width. The same length of the fingers. The same specific way you hold things." He looks at my hand on the coffee mug. "Exactly the same." I look at my hand. The charcoal under the thumbnail. The paint on the knuckle of my index finger. The specific grip on the mug—that is simply how I hold things, learned without knowing I was learning it.

Dominic's voice called her softly. She looked up but his eyes dropped so she looked down to see he was holding his hand out once again, palm up. He smiled as she slipped her hand on top of his. He moved his hand so it was lined up under hers and bent his fingers through hers entwining their fingers like a boyfriend or lover would. Aria flicked her gaze up to his face with a gasp as he squeezed her hand.

Her smile was so wide she looked like a cross-breed between an orange tabby and a Cheshire cat. Wishing to silently convey to Levi the decision he had made, Noah took the initiative to pick up the larger of the two rings with his right hand. Noah shook his left hand that had been holding Levi’s, signaling the other to let go. When Levi obediently released it, Noah changed his hold to bring Levi’s right hand in front of him.

Isabella beside him, in the position she had established as hers, the specific proximity that was close enough for oversight and close enough for contact if contact was required. She reached over and held out her finger. Not her whole hand. One finger, extended, offered at the level of his hands in the way she offered things to him now, with the deliberate care of someone who understood she was working with something small and new. Alexander looked at the finger. Looked at her face. Looked at the finger again. He reached for it. Both hands first, the two-fisted approach he brought to most objects, and then one hand, wrapping around her finger with the complete grip of a person who had recent