Wound Tight Novels & Stories

he clenched his jaw. My heart twisted in pain when I remembered how I treated her. "but thanks to you I finally met the love of my life....my Faith. If it wasn't for you then I would have never met her....so thank you but don't think I'll let go of you easily Mr Williams, I will make sure you feel all the pain you caused my wife 5 years ago" he said, staring at me with a deadly gaze. I clenched my palms into fists as my eyes filled up with unshed tears.

"For the final time, Orangelo, your pocket isn't that irresistible." Staring down at the distressingly large snapping turtle still holding on to his toe for dear life, Wound growled. "Can you stop being offended long enough to help me get it off? And if you act as though I meant that to be pervy, I'm going to strangle you with your own tail." "Don't threaten me with a good time, old-timer." Jinx teased as he tried to figure out how to get the huge turtle off Wound's foot without taking a digit or two with it.

“Miss at this time you don't need to be afraid, you just need to rest in this place. I will make sure that everyone will stay safe!” Then Dinda, who already trusted Luis, was now starting to fall asleep. It can be seen that at this time Dinda is very tired, she is running to save herself. When this woman was asleep, Luis immediately washed her feet with warm water. Luis saw a scar on this woman's leg, and immediately Luis put a plaster on this woman's wound. Now Luis only saw a poor woman sleeping very soundly. Right now it looks like this Woman is Tired, and also very scared.

“Lange you are burning up. We need to breathe or something.” He laughed. It was a broken weak sound. That laugh went straight to my balls. It made me harder. “Breathing is overrated. Touch me more. Here.” He took my wrist. He pushed my hand under his shirt. He put it right against his ribs. The fabric there was very tight. Too tight. It felt like he was wearing something hard under his clothes. Like some kind of painful wrap. I stopped moving. My fingers touched something firm and flat. It was wrapped so tight it felt like armor. “What the hell is this?”

One button after another. When the last one came loose, I pulled the shirt off and dropped it into the sink. The wound across my chest and arm was still open. The edges were dark with blood. But it was already closing. Slowly. The flesh pulled itself back together as my wolf pushed forward to repair the damage. I could feel the skin tightening, the muscles shifting under it. The pain faded little by little. One of the perks of being a wolf. Unfortunately… Humiliation didn’t heal nearly as fast.

“Go in. Shallow. Don’t tear my skin.” My first attempt was clumsy. He hissed, his muscles tightening under my touch. I flinched and withdrew. “Keep going,” he ordered. “Don’t stop.” I blinked back tears, forcing my shaking hands to resume. In, out. In, out. Torn flesh came together gradually, blood seeping out, making my stomach turn. Each stitch drew a small sound from him. A hiss. A grunt. Then he'd gulp more wine. He had almost emptied the bottle by the time the wound finally closed.

But then he took a sharp, shallow breath, his jaw so tight I could see the muscle feathering. “I was this close—” His voice didn't crack; it hardened, compressing into something dense and fierce. He held up his thumb and forefinger, a mere sliver of space between them, his hand rock-steady but charged with a violent energy, like a spring coiled to its breaking point. “This close to not even going at all.” The look in his eyes isn’t only desperate. It is feral. It is a raw, blazing intensity that pinned me in place.

I had slapped his chest a few times before giving up when I realized that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He opened the bathroom’s cabinet and took out a first aid kit, slowly bandaging the cut “let me know if I tighten it too much, we just need to stop the bleeding” He wrapped bandage twice before I flinched when he squeezed it a little too tightly. He nodded and loosened it before he put the rest of it away. He sighed and washed his hands before taking my hand in his and cleaning the cut that has formed earlier when I broke the things down to begin with. I couldn’t help but want to pull my hand away from him; however, he tightened his hand on mine, slowly putting ointment on the cut.

I want to adjust but my muscles are sore from tensing up too much. "So tight. So perfect." Linc's eyes are shut tight. His face is pinched with the amount of control he is exerting trying to stay sane and present. All that concentration. It is so hot. I lean up a fraction and take his lips, his eyes fly open, soft and dazed, he drives in fully and our lips still against each other. My head falls back on the pillow but he holds himself up on his elbows by sheer will. I am vaguely aware of the sting of my wound at the base of my neck.

Struggling to control her emotions, she gritted her teeth and said, "Have you seen enough? If you have, then get lost!" She turned her face slightly, and this tiny movement pulled at the wounds on her face. Her whole body felt like it was burning, and every injury, big or small, hurt—stabbing pain, piercing pain—it was unbearable. She had to clamp her lips together, and even her beautiful eyebrows wrinkled with pain.