Little Devil Hands Off Novels & Stories

"I fucking hate you" He didn't even seem fazed by my little outburst. Just stared at me like I was boring. "I haven't even started Matilda, you can't break already, that would be fucking boring" I was starting to realize why they called him the devil. His eyes spoke of torture and for the first time, I was truly scared of what he might do to me. A notification cut through the silence. His phone. He glanced at it once. Then his expression shifted slightly. Not emotionally, Just focused now.

With that, he threw the cigarette on the floor and stomped on it with his worn out black Nike. The devil wears Nike. "I'll do it, you'll return my soul, right?" I tore my eyes off the Nike and focused on his gaunt face currently wearing a crooked grin. "Deal?" "Deal, Ruby Davies. Deal." He extended his bony hand out for a handshake which I chose to ignore. No way on earth was I touching that man. "How can I even trust you?" The stars were returning now and the night's noises seemed to be coming back gradually and most importantly, the devil seemed to be fading bit by bit.

he stood up. Man, this was a bad idea, I just knew it. “So we are in agreement?” He asked holding a hand to me. I fisted mine behind my back. Why did I feel like I was about to make a deal with the devil? Shutting my eyes, I reached forward even knowing I’d likely regrets this “Nothing crazy” I stated as firmly as I could, and shook his hand. “Anything” he corrected on a whisper. His handshake was business like, firm.

“Oh…shit!!” Phone switched off !!!

Right when he was about to tap on Chana’s stomach, Harvey immediately spoke. “Stop!” he coldly exclaimed. “You need to stop this right now! “Are you trying to kill her or something?!” Waylon’s body shuddered, causing him to miss. He angrily glared at Harvey afterward. “Where did you learn the Devil’s Hand?” asked Harvey coldly. Waylon’s eyes twitched with a horrible expression after hearing those words. ‘How could he tell what I was doing?’ He learned the trick all the way back from Seed Frontier. The Devil’s Hand could temporarily bring back a person on the verge of death, making it seem like the person actually recovered.

He backed and saw the new portrait hanging in front of him; Her nipples clamped while her legs parted with the spreader bar. But the Devil was not done yet. “I want you to say those words to me, Adele.” She quenched, listened but didn’t answer him. The next thing she heard was a vibrating sound coming from behind her back. “No, no, no, Decker,” she begged. She tried to get away, but it was not possible. “This is not what I want to hear,” He pulled her tiny waist at her bare chest and trailed the little monster in her folds. “I am begging you,”

The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage. The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life. “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage.

“Then I’ll remind you why they call me the devil.” A chill crept down her spine. Dante stepped back, the tension slowly draining from the room. “That will be all for now,” he said, dismissing her with a flick of his hand. “You’ll start your duties tomorrow. Be ready.” Emilia turned and walked out, heart pounding. She didn’t look back. That night, she sat on the edge of her luxurious bed, staring out the window at the endless woods beyond the estate. The rules echoed in her mind like a curse.