Scraped Knuckles Novels & Stories

The scratch on my back painfully pressed into the grass underneath me and my hands came up to try and push him off. "Get off of me!" I yelled, my physicality and tone of voice screamed desperation as I attempted to remove the naked man from on top of me. I punched his chest as hard as I could which caused a grunt to leave his mouth, unfortunately it also forced my fist to snap out of place. A small cry left me as I realized I'd just dislocated my knuckle punching him.

I tried to control my jelly legs but he must have noticed my unstableness because he smiled knowingly. He was completely naked in front of me, and it was incredibly distracting and attractive at the same time as he walked off to the bathroom. *** I squeezed his hand and once more, I was aware of the prominent bruises on his knuckles. I realized now that when I briefly noticed them last night, I had completely disregarded the deep cuts also engraved in his fingers, forming deep red scabs. Jesus, I thought.

Likewise, Knuckles grunted as another palm strike drove into his ribs, forcing a step back. Someone near the railing scoffed. “He’s letting the bastard tire himself out. Watch.” “Doesn’t look tired to me,” another replied. Below us, Misha pivoted low and drove his knee up toward Knuckles’ gut, followed immediately by a snap of his elbow toward the throat. The sequence was so fast, it almost didn’t look real. Vincent let out a soft, thoughtful exhale beside me. “Huh.” Knuckles took it all. Not gracefully, but he absorbed the damage like stone. Relentless. His grin spread, wider now, baring teeth.

He is lying. I stared at his hidden hand. A heavy wooden scrub brush falling from six inches up does not crush a man's knuckles. It does not split the skin open like that. The only thing that could cause that specific, brutal injury was someone pressing their full weight down onto the bone with their heel.

On our eighth anniversary, my boyfriend, Liam Daniels, dragged me along to plan his marriage proposal. That exact morning, my pregnancy test came back positive. Outwardly, I teased him for ruining the surprise. Privately, I called everyone I knew to brag. My parents wept over the phone, saying time flew by too fast. My best friend, Mia Kyle, promised to beat him up if he ever stepped out of line. Even my older sister, Sarah Davis, choked up, swearing she would be there no matter how busy work got. On the big night, I wore the white dress Liam bought me. When I stepped into the venue, I realized the proposal had been transformed into a full wedding reception. I watched Liam Daniels

I gripped the tip of the wooden armrest and jerked my hands up, taking the wood tied to my forearms. One of the three moved faster than the other. He threw his fist and aimed it at my face. It collided with the splintered armrest I used as protection. He groans, blood dripping from his left knuckles. Throwing his right fist, hoping to redeem his first failed attempt, I sliced my elbow in the air, still armed with the wood fracture. “Fucking bitch!” he hissed, shaking his bleeding hands. I freed one of my arms from the wood, watchful of his friends, as they shoved Bloody Knuckles to the side.

But she looked… ruined. Her lips were split and grotesquely swollen—bitten until they bled raw. Her fingers were red and slick, nails jagged where she’d scraped them against the chair’s steel armrest over and over, until skin tore. Her bare toes were worse—angry, misshapen from the same relentless, mindless scrubbing. She didn’t look up. She didn’t even seem to hear them. She just kept digging her fingertips into the cold metal, as if trying to erase something only she could see.

Seeing them still frozen in place, I thought maybe it didn’t suit their taste, so I held out the half-cooked piece in my hand. "Want it cooked instead?" The three of them flinched violently. "N-No…" Zephyr Noct, the blind priest, suddenly dropped to one knee, his voice dry. "You are the noble Alpha Female. This prey is your trophy. By the rules, we must wait until you have finished eating completely before we are allowed to take what remains." I frowned. "What kind of bullshit rule is that?" Without hesitation, I tossed the meat straight into their arms. They scrambled to catch it, then froze again, unsure what to do.

Since I had deliberately hidden my injured right hand inside my loose white coat, Megan didn't notice it was hurt at all. She strode up to me and, without a word, slapped me across the face. "Donovan, as a doctor, how could you let jealousy drive you to kill your own patient? You're not even fit to be called human!" I pressed my tongue against the inside of my stinging cheek, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone from Megan's group already discreetly pulling out a camera. I chuckled inwardly. "What nonsense are you talking about? When did I ever kill my patient? Pierre's surgery—"

Steve was one of my nightmares. He loosened his belt, glanced around, and flipped my skirt open. My panties were made of pink lace. With his finger, he shifted my pants and brought out his huge cock. My body trembled as I watched his balls from under my spread thighs as I bent. “Please don’t do this, Steve!” I begged one last time, tears hanging in my eyes.