Rough Hands Novels & Stories

My head was spinning at the movement alone. “Do you guys always do this?” I questioned him as I rubbed my head. “About once or twice a week since it is kind of exhausting.” “I can’t imagine that.” I groaned as I looked at my bare hands. They were bruised and the skin was peeling off of my palms and knuckles. Jack grimaced as soon as he saw it. “That has got to hurt.” Jack commented.

Jai was hissing and sighing, and grunting as they were flying. He was putting his hands in front of him like a T-Rex, but it was only because he wanted to hug his hands but couldn’t due to the pain. He looked at his hands again and saw that they were gradually becoming very red very fast.

The silence was all that surrounded us now. I risked a glance at him. His eyes were distant and hard, his lips formed a thin line, his fists clenched. He was contemplating what to say. I gazed down at my lap yet again knowing that this was my cue to leave. I stood up. As I was about to leave I felt fingers wrap around my wrist. I froze. I was still uncomfortable with a man's touch. I flinched instinctively Sumit might have sensed my discomfort. He let go of my hand.

Her hands were in his. Their small and large hands stood out in contrast. His hands were beautiful, from the shape of the fingers, length, to the joints and nails–They all looked so beautiful. On the contrary, some joints of her hand looked a little unnatural, and two joints were particularly prominent. They looked just like hands that had done laborious work for many years. If one were to look closely, they could see some scars on the skin of her hands… Hands like that seemed very ugly when it was next to his.

Which was a damn crying shame, and a situation she’d rectify pronto. Skylar admired his meaty biceps and thick forearms as she ran the washcloth along his brawny arms. The back of his hands were scarred and scabbed; the palm side of his hands were callused and rough. The hands of a working rancher. She knew these strong hands could rein in a thousand-pound horse, or fix barbed wire fence or even knock a man out cold. But she also knew how unbelievably gentle these powerful hands could be on her body. On her face. On their child.

Smooth. He lowers my hand, but even then, he keeps playing with my fingers absentmindedly. His hands are big and surprisingly smooth. I expected them to be rough, considering how much he trains, but they aren’t. Of course, he drives me home and walks me to my door. He follows a step behind me as we climb the stairs, his presence heavy in the air.

I wouldn't be able to rely on Prince for so long. Prince came back up to me, his hand almost shaking. His eyes were even a bit glassy. Pointing to my hand with his heavily calloused one, I nodded. I lifted it and placed it in his. Rough fingertips brushed against my palm. It was soothing, warm, and had a hint of tingle. His eyes stared, fascinated with it, but I couldn't see what was so amazing. "I have four fingers and a thumb, same as you," I spoke, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

Donn silently listened to the plan and lowered his head to look at his hands. "Rich people like them make you crazy, don't they? ..." Zack remembered the girl's pristine and perfect hands. Those who have worked the land would never have such beautiful hands. From handling the hoes and all the hard work they did, everyone's hands were dirty and rough, right down to the fingernails.

I slide my hand halfway through before it catches my thumb. I close my eyes, willing myself for the next step. I bend my thumb into my palm. I roughly pull my hand through the cuff, hissing at the pain from my bent thumb. I slide my hand out and bring it to my eyes. I inspected my thumb, thankful that it was a bad bruise rather than a fracture. I turn on my side slightly, reaching up towards my left hand. I try to slip my left hand out, but the cuff is wound tightly around my wrist.

So what did Matzher say about loneliness? Yarsi shifted his gaze to his own hands, unclenched his fists with some effort, again bent his fingers and straightened them. Human hands, the hands of a young man, almost a boy. But that's just how it seems. Muscles itch with tension, rippling beneath the skin, ready at any moment to rear up and turn the arms into paws. Nails tear the skin, protrude from the fingers, bend into the curved blades of knives, they are stronger and more deadly than steel .... Yarsi again clenched his fists tightly. No, not now…