Hold On My Hand Michael Jackson Novels & Stories

I just moved. One second, I was watching. The next, my hand wrapped around his wrist, and I squeezed. His entire body jerked. His fingers twitched where they were gripping Michael’s shirt, and I tightened my hold, feeling his bones shift under my grasp. I could break them. Right now. Easily. I leaned in, my voice cold and controlled. “Let. Him. Go.” The man’s jaw clenched. For a split second, I thought he might be stupid enough to resist.

Why would he hold my hand if he hated me? I halted my step, making him stop as well. I looked down at our conjoined hand, still not believing what my eyes were seeing. He looked at me with a brow raised, confused. “Why'd you stop? Did you forget something?” He actually looked like he was concerned. I shook my head. Why is he still holding me? I wondered. “Your hand…” I started. “You're holding my hand.” Justin cocked his head to the side in realization probably wondering how that was a problem. “Please let go of me.”

The video was taken at the hospital's ward. A burly, middle-aged man with a buzzcut was on the screen. His left arm was in a cast and hung before his chest. He was Tristan, the guy I saved from certain death. His eyes were red, and he was roaring at the people beside him. "On your knees!" The camera moved. A middle-aged woman and two young men dropped to their knees. Those people were the ones who had snarled and yelled at me.

is keep holding his hand. Just a little longer.

he raised his hand to slap me. I close my eyes and wait for his hand to land on my face, but it doesn’t. I felt someone grab my hand and pulls me away, then my back slams on something hard. I slowly open my eyes and see a hand holding the guy’s hand, preventing it from landing. I traces the hand that saved me and my gaze lands on Mike. His eyes held anger, I can see flames coming out of his eyes. My back rests on his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist protectively and possessively.

Michael wanted to say something, but no words came out. For the first time, Ivanka took the initiative to hold Michael’s hand. For a brief moment, Michael’s mind went completely blank. Then he flipped the dynamic and firmly grasped Ivanka’s hand in return. He held on tightly. He was worried that she would change her mind the moment he let go. Ivanka did not resist and let him hold her hand as she guided him out of the mall. They ended up sitting quietly at a small barbecue stand nearby. Michael had to let go of Ivanka’s hand. He could still feel her warmth linger in his palm.

“Be fast, I don’t have forever Sorahiko” Well, it’s either go along with this new whim or piss him off. It’s not even a debate. I place my hand gingerly in his, while staring him in the eyes the entire time. What if this is some kind of prank and he decides to crush my hand? I don’t want to end up disabled because Aronohai Miyamura thought it’d be fun to mess with me. His hand curls around mine and holds it firmly. It’s warm. In one swift move, he pulls me to him. I find myself holding onto his hand tightly, while my other hand curls into the front of his shirt. What the fuck just happened?.

“Of course.” He extended his hand, and I placed mine in his, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. He led me to the dance floor, his grip firm yet gentle. The music swelled around us, a slow, melodic waltz that seemed to pull us into its rhythm. His hand settled on my waist, and I placed my other hand on his shoulder, our bodies moving in sync as we began to glide across the marble floor.

He held my hands there, and I didn’t try to pull it out of his grip. Then he cleared his throat, and with one hand, he took something out of his pocket, still holding my hands in his. He turned one of my hands around, my palm facing upwards. He hesitantly placed an object in my hand.

Ten minutes had gone past, yet my hands clung onto his tightly, body drawn to his form. "Mr Holden?" That muffled voice came right outside the room, followed with a couple taps on the door. But believe me, that never for once got Mr. Holden to a stop. His hands remained held around me, body against mine, and at each second his fingers came sliding in and out my vulva, I was sure to catch the judders.