Little Devil Hands Off Novels & Stories

That old man! Devin smiled at me and placed Bumblebee on the shelf. I’m glad that it’s not scattered on the floor or I’ll have to make up a shitty explanation to him. “Let’s go?” “Yeah,” he offered me his hand, and I reluctantly took it. Do friends hold hands? ~

As I continued to suck on his nipple and stroke his cock, I slipped my free hand between my legs to rub my clit. I moaned when a hand joined mine and a second later, a thick finger entered my pussy. My head dropped back against Devrim’s shoulder. I fought the urge to move my hips as I rubbed my clit faster, but just as I was about to crash over the edge, the finger pulled out and my hand was pushed aside. Opening my eyes, I stared at Obsidian’s face before I followed his eyes down between our bodies. Devrim pulled my hand away from Obsidian’s cock and wrapped his fingers around him instead. He moved his other hand under my ass and tilted my hips up.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum. “You’re right,” Dominique said, his voice low and menacing. “But since you think I’m the devil, then I’ll gladly accept the name. And you, my dear, will be known as The Devil’s Handmaiden.” My heart raced as Dominique’s words hung in the air, a dark promise that sent shivers down my spine. The reality of my situation crashed down on me with the force of a tidal wave. This wasn’t just some cruel joke or a bad dream this was my new reality. And Dominique was the one holding all the cards.

I was kicked out of the moving car without warning and sent crashing onto the ground hard. The sharp pain sent a wave of dizziness through me. Even so, I stumbled to my feet, instinctively popping my dislocated hand bones and kneecap back into place. I then slowly made my way down the familiar path I'd walked countless times before. I still needed to return to the Sanders residence to retrieve something. Compared to what I'd felt in the past three years, this little bit of pain couldn't do anything to stop me.

"Cecil, I'm sorry. I was a bastard before. I misjudged people. I was fooled by Lucy, too. That b*tch already hooked up with some rich scion long ago." After spitting that out viciously, he grabbed my hand. "Cecil, let's make up, okay?" I looked up and saw the heavy darkness lurking in his eyes. Fear prickled up my spine. Afraid he might hurt me, I pretended to give in. "O-Okay." Satisfied, he finally let go. I hurriedly sent my friend home. When I returned to my apartment, lingering fear washed over me. Timothy's situation became too extreme. If things went wrong, he really might do something irrational.

He gave me a breathtaking smile. He raised my skirt far up and took his hands in between my thighs close to my cherry, I felt good, he turned to look at me and smiled. He was about to take his hands further but we were interrupted.

"And plus, that will come much later. After I mark you." Mark me. My head began to grow dizzy, and I felt my body purring like a cat. "Okay," I said, giving him my hand. He snaked his out, wrapping his fingers around my own, he brought my hand toward his mouth. "You're already making deals with the devil, Little One. Be careful, you may begin to enjoy my company." I snatched my hand away. "Tell William I'm ready," I said, avoiding his eyes. He chuckled. "I left you a pair of boots by the door. I'll see you soon, Little One."

But it was also offering her a lifeline, however dangerous. She placed her hand in his, ignoring the electric jolt that shot up her arm at the contact. "Deal." Later, as she signed the contract, Maya couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just made a deal with the devil himself. A devastatingly handsome devil with an Italian accent and eyes that seemed to see right through her carefully constructed defenses. What she didn't notice was the way Luca watched her sign, a flicker of something beyond professional interest crossing his face—something that made Sophia raise an eyebrow in silent warning.

Sandro added a third finger, stretching her, his thumb circling her clit with perfect, relentless pressure while his other hand tightened slightly around her throat, controlling her breath just enough to heighten every sensation. “You’re so fucking perfect like this,” he praised, voice rough with dark hunger and something deeper. “My strong, defiant wife. Pushing back during the day, dripping for me at night. Such a good girl and such a bad one all at once.” The degradation slipped in seamlessly. “Look how wet you get when I remind you who owns this pussy. Greedy little slut. Taking my fingers like you were made for them.”

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.