In The Hand Of Dante Book Novels & Stories

He asks, “While you think of something to choose, I’m gonna get something. Stay here.” Goldie watches Darryl walk away from him. He stands still for a moment, before looking at the books that surrounded him. He notices a book that is not much bigger than his hand. The cover is simple, with nothing but the illustration of red circles within a circle at the bottom half, and the name “Dante” written on the top half. He picks it up and inspects it, trying to read other words on the back of the book. He was able to process some of the words, but could not understand the whole paragraph.

Aurora: “May I ask where we are going? As this does not seem like my house’s direction, nor is it yours” I said, looking at Dante who sighed and extended his hand to me. I put my hand on his, intertwining our fingers, and running my fingers over his own, he smiled at me.

I was nervous as we drove down the street Was it cold in the car or was my anxiety creeping in? I rubbed my palm together as I was very cold. Dante suddenly took hold of my hand while I stared, obviously startled at him. “You don’t have to be afraid, you can do this.” He held my hand. We finally arrived at the what looked like a company, it was actually a company, it was a tall building. The car door was opened and Dante stepped out before giving me his hand so I could help myself out.

I doubt all my clothes will be enough to fill even a quarter. “Give me your hand.” I jump, surprised by the unexpected voice, and turn to see Dante holding a platinum bracelet-looking thing in his hand. He waves it in my face. “Your hand.” “Whatever for?” He ignores me grabs my right hand and clips the bracelet on. I can’t ignore the tendrils of electricity I feel when he touches me. His hands linger for a second and let’s go almost caressingly. However, he quickly shoves them in his pockets after he’s done, as if he’s burned. “What is it?” My voice sounds so hoarse I clear my throat.

"Priscilla's idea is brilliant. There are 54 of us. It's enough for a deck of cards!" "The school banned playing cards, and Cassidy watches us like a hawk. Luckily for us, the admission tickets are with Priscilla for safekeeping. What is she gonna do now? Confiscate them? Hah!" "I'm playing this one! Who's going for it?" "I will! I've got Justin in my hand!" "Then, I'll play Priscilla!" Admission tickets were being smacked onto the desk one after another. Yet, the moment they saw me, the smiles on their faces were replaced by frowns.

"You were saying?" Dante inquired Orlando coldly. Orlando's hand is twisted awkwardly. With just some more force, his arm might break. Dante's hold is unyielding. Even when Orlando tried to pry his hand away from Dante, he failed miserably. Serene looked down at Orlando who is on his knees infront of her now. "Dante, look, they hurt my hand" she decided to show Orlando and Eugene a glimse of hell when still alive. And she knows how to do that clearly.

I pulled the trigger without a second thought. Leone's whole body jolted. He stared in disbelief at his mangled hand, then lifted his head to look at me, his eyes full of shattered shock. "You stabbed my hand. Now, I'm paying you back. Leone, from this moment on, we're even." "Anna! Don't go..." His eyes were bloodshot, his usually sharp features drooping with despair. The pleading in his gaze looked like a condemned man waiting for his death sentence, making one last, useless struggle.

His other hand dipped under her dress now, calluses scraping her inner thigh, inching toward her heat. The air thickened with her arousal, tangy and ripe, and he inhaled deeply, groaning. "Fuck, smell that. You've been dripping for me all night, haven't you, good girl?" His fingers found her panties, pressing the fabric into her slit, rubbing circles that made her knees buckle. She gripped the counter, nails scraping Formica, the cool edge biting her palms as her hips rocked instinctively.

Perfect in a way that made my mouth water and my core clench with need. I wrapped my hand around him experimentally, my fingers barely meeting around his girth. Dante hissed through his teeth, his whole body going tense, his hips jerking up involuntarily into my grip. "Fuck," he breathed. "Your hand. Jesus Christ, your hand feels so good."

Dante's silhouette loomed in the corner of my vision, powerful and unyielding. Dante's chest rumbled with a low, almost imperceptible laugh, a sound that held both amusement and a chilling approval. He walked over to stand behind me, his presence a warm solid weight against my back. His hands, calloused and strong, settled on my shoulders, a possessive gesture that sent a shiver down my spine. The roughness of his palms grounded me, igniting sparks of desire amid the cold calculus of our plot.