Little Devil Hands Off Novels & Stories

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 rolled my eyes, "it's doing nothing on my trouser." She bit her sexy lower lip, 'come let see? Please...' I smiled and tilted my phone down and she saw that my hand was just resting at the hem of my trouser. She groaned, 'why am I not there? I wish that was my hand there.. I'd know exactly what to do...' A devil thought hit me and I snuck my hand inside my pants, "do you know what it can do when it's in there..." I heard her gasp and I knew I got her where I wanted her...

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.

The gun I was holding fell off my hand, “Davis”

He let me climb down. "I'll just get my clothes and be on my way," I dropped my eyes and moved my legs but he held unto my hand. I had no plans on letting go of his hands till I was ready to leave his sight. I had understood that that contact with me kept the devil in him away. "I'll hold your hand while I do that. That's not a problem. I just want to get my clothes and put them on." I told him when he wouldn't let me beyond hi reach.

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.

My hands shake as I scrape eggs and bacon off the marble, bile rising in my throat. Behind me, I hear his quiet chuckle. And I know this is only the beginning. Because Dante Moretti doesn’t just want to own me. He wants to break me piece by piece until I can’t tell where his cruelty ends and my desire begins. And I hate myself most for one thing. A small, twisted part of me wants to see how far he’ll go.

He was holding my hands all through, and I couldn’t help the illicit thoughts my mind was making up. My eyes darted to the partition, and I wondered if the driver could hear him asking me the questions I would term inappropriate. The last time we had been together, he was only able to eat me out before he was pulled away for essential duties. This man usually confuses me; one day, he acts like I’m an enemy on his soil, and the next, he acts like I’m a vital part of his life.