My Left Hand Man Movie Novels & Stories

Like just us in the kitchen. Then Kayden reached for the salt and used his left hand and I watched him register in real time that it was the wrong hand. Yulian was left-handed, Kayden was right — and the moment passed. "Do you think it's permanent?"

he says out loud and continues to slap hard against my ass while I continue to feel the annoying, irritating hardness of his dick against my legs. He finally uses his own legs to keep my legs wide apart, and I hear the unbuckling of his belt behind me while he uses one of his hands to keep my hands trapped above me against the wall. How the hell in heaven does this man just manage to be so extremely strong as to handle a single person with just one of their hands? I finally scream out loud with a certain desperate plea deep down within me when a commotion catches our attention coming from our left side.

At the same time, Sebastian also raised his head and looked behind Sabrina. A man fell to the ground. A blood pool appeared on the front of his chest. That blood pool was spreading out slowly and started to turn a bright red. Sabrina was stunned for a while. She did not see how Malvolio, who was holding a gun, was pinned to the ground by Sebastian's men. She also did not see how Isadora called for her brother hysterically. At that moment, Sabrina's eyes were only focused on the man laying on the ground and in a pool of blood. That man was still chained on one of his hands. His other hand was covered in blood from the wrist to the thumb. Sabrina only realized after taking a closer look that t

"Lewis, if Elliot hadn't shown up just in time, I would've been…" Just recalling what had almost happened made me shake with rage. My hand trembled as I held the hammer, but when I thought about the vicious way he had acted, I felt a cold resolve wash over me. "Left hand!" I instructed the bodyguard, who pulled his left hand over and placed it on the table. I raised the hammer and glanced at Elliot. He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, watching Lewis with a cold gaze. "No! No!" Elliot had already broken Lewis' right hand earlier, and now it was time for the left.

“It will help.” Lys turned her head, the movement dragging sore muscles. On screen: herself. Grainy footage at first. Then clearer clips. Standing beside a tall man in dark clothes. His face was obscured in some shots by camera angle, by smoke, by movement. In others, it was brutal in its clarity: strong jaw, tired eyes, dark hair cut close. He moved like a man who expected the world to get out of his way or be broken. In one clip, his hand rested on what should have been a neutral spot on her shoulder. The motion was nothing.

His hands were big, strong, and rough. My hand felt so small in his. Big rough hands were a turn-on for me. It felt good, so I gave his hand a little squeeze. He held my hand the rest of the movie, sometimes rubbing his thumb over mine. It felt nice. The movie ended and we left the theater. We walked a little in the outdoor mall, looking in the closed shop windows. He held my hand as we walked.

When he saw me, he paused. “Mr Hanson! I’m pleased to see you.” I walked over with my hand extended. To be honest, I had no idea how to show this man respect. He probably deserved more from me than an outstretched hand, but considering how he carried himself—like a youngster without any care in the world—it was hard to not go overboard. Gregory seemed to be hit by realization before he switched his wine glass to the left hand and took my hand in a shake. “Anna Vendel? Wait, you were supposed to come today? Why wasn’t I reminded?”

I liked to watch choices form on a man’s face. “Which hand?” I asked eventually, lowering my voice to a near-purr. It was an absurd question in one sense; he understood what I meant. Which hand had violated a woman who did not deserve it. The question made him squirm because the answer placed him firmly in the scene, not free in the realm of excuses. “What?" He looked confused and hellish afraid. "From which hand did you grabbed her?" I asked precisely now. "L-Left,” he stammered, voice gone thin.

I watch as my left hand is splayed open over the dirty metal table. Just as he presses the drill bit to the back of my hand, I yank free, shoot up, grab the drill from him and shove it into one of his men's eye.

He smiled, finally getting what he wanted to collect after all, I guess it's part of his interview. “Well, Ariana. Nice to meet you!” He gestured his hand towards me signalling me to shake it. For a few seconds of thinking, I claimed his hand and smiled. “See you around,” he smiled. Not yet holding back his hand. See you in hell. “Yeah,” I whispered, then got back into my business. He followed my steps as we got to the exit. “I must say goodbye to you right now, Ariana! See you again soon,” I just nod. He's too persistent and like argh, annoying. I nod out of interest.