Rough Hands Novels & Stories

He stuck out his hand across the table. Gingerly, I reached out and took it. His alpha-hot fingers enveloped mine, long and strong and rough. The heat of him lanced up my arm and lodged somewhere under my sternum, nearly taking my breath away. Unlike every other alpha I’d shaken hands with, he didn’t try to crush my hand or show his strength; he just shook like a normal guy, a firm pressure and then release. When he let me go, his touch lingered, like a brand.

“Hands on the tiles. Ass out. Don’t make me tell you twice.” Water cascaded over both of them as Jax yanked his own shorts down, freeing his cock. It slapped heavily against Alex’s ass cheek, already rock-hard again. The quarterback soaped up his hands generously with the dispenser on the wall, then ran them over Alex’s body—rough, possessive strokes that cleaned nothing and claimed everything. Big palms squeezed his slim waist, slid down to knead his ass cheeks, spreading them wide under the spray. “Look at this mess,” Jax murmured, thumb circling the puffy, cum-leaking rim. “My load still dripping out. Good. Means you’re marked.”

“Good girl. So good.” A hand, large and slightly rough—Hal’s hand—guided her own. She understood. Without breaking her rhythm on Nick, she reached out, her fingers wrapping around the hard, hot shaft of Hal’s cock. She began to pump him, her fist moving in time with the bobbing of her head. The contrast was exquisite: the smooth, wet heat of her mouth on Nick, the firm, dry friction of her hand on Hal.

He knelt in front of me, his massive frame blocking out the flickering streetlamp. "Give me your hand," he said. "I can do it myself," I muttered, though I held out my bruised, bloody hand anyway. His fingers wrapped around my wrist. His skin was calloused and incredibly warm. The contrast between his lethal, scarred hands and the surprisingly gentle way he held my wrist sent a confusing jolt of heat straight to my core.

"I... I can't write... My hands are so hurt from when I fell in the street... look..." ​I slowly pulled my hands out from beneath my cardigan sleeves, exposing my scraped, raw palms—pink, bleeding, and smudged with dirt. ​Julian’s eyes flicked down to my palms. A momentary shadow of impatience crossed his handsome face, but he quickly forced another warm, sympathetic smile onto his lips.

Let's just leave the world as prettily as we can, alright? She then held my hand up—the hand that was covered with cracks, blisters, and black chilblains from years of collecting garbage, washing dishes, and other miscellaneous odd jobs. My joints and knuckles were large and deformed, and my whole hand felt dry and rough like dead tree bark. Mom sobbed as she slathered a thick layer of the face cream onto my hideous wounds, rubbing frantically and trying to let the oils seep into my skin to smooth out the cracks.

“Sex isn’t the answer. Talking about your problems is.” “I’ll talk while I fuck you. I’m sure I’ll have lots to say about how good you’ll feel.” She forced her gaze down to his hands. They were big and she knew there were calluses on his fingertips, the pads of his thumbs, and his palms. Most of the survivors had that anomaly and she’d noticed in other sessions that he had it too. She wondered what his hands would feel like on her skin. Rough? Good? Or like sandpaper? It was tempting to find out.

She slapped Ji Hoo with all her might and still had the effect in her hand. "Let me see." Arthur took her hand and massaged it. This was the first time he had touched this woman's hand. In Ha's hands were smaller than his. He shook hands with women many times, but her hands were so much different from those that were so smooth as if they were flawless. The palms on the backs of her hands were a little rough, but that didn't make her look ugly. This was the prove how she endured all her hardships. And Arthur was almost present in all of those moments.

I want to sue someone! A large hand held his lower abdomen. Ritian was frightened. He flailed miserably. The hand exuded a light strength, the intent to freeze him in place is distinct. His energy was spent on the robe earlier and being soaked in the water for an unknown length of time, his non-existent muscles couldn't hold on much longer. He tried to remove the stranger's palm on his bare stomach. The hand was long and wide. A few times bigger than his hand although the fingers were slightly crooked. The callous tickled his skin whenever it slides to move a little.

Small Hand's body began to feel warm, so he forced Louis to the ground, placed the empty bottle of drugs that contained a stimulant on a shelf next to him, grabbed Kyle's shirt, placed it over his nose, and took a deep breath! Put your shirt on the floor! -There was pressure on Kyle to make a statement Then, with a smirk on his face, Small Hand asked, "Did you crave me like that?" after biting his lip and cussing out a sentence. After he finished saying that, he promptly removed his shirt and walked away. Because Small Hand had to put up with all of Mr. Joe's mistreatment throughout the day, from major incidents to insignificant tasks like carrying, the muscles in his body are extremely robu