Felix Hand Size Novels & Stories

Without a word, knowing what he needed, Ace slid his hand back around to Liam's front. He stroked Liam's cock, his large hand sliding easily because of the lubricant, and Liam's hips began to move back and forth on their own. Every forward thrust pushed his rock-hard cock into Ace's hand; every backwards thrust took Ace's cock deeper into his eager body. He was crushed between a muscled body and an unmovable object, his hands in fists on the wall in front of him, his cheek pressed to the cool tile. All Liam could do was push up into Ace's hand, then push back to take Ace's cock; he was filled and utterly fulfilled, at the same time. **** Ten years ago, Liam “Spider” Valance met Ace Cuddy in the worst place possible: the Fallen Angels MC bar. Ace’s club. Ace’s world. A world where being gay would get them both killed.... and they fell in love anyway. Three years later, Ace chose survival over truth. Promoted to Vice-President, he walked away from Liam to keep them safe, making sure Liam hated him enough to let go. It worked... mostly. Now Ace has made a catastrophic mistake, and both their lives are in danger. The solution? Hide them together in a safe house until the heat dies down. Ace calls it fate, Liam calls it hell. Ace sees a second chance with the only man who ever truly knew him. Liam just wants him gone. But the past doesn’t stay buried, desire doesn’t die quietly, and love doesn’t fade on command. Is there a second chance at love, and at living honestly? Ace is ready to fight for it. Even if the hardest battle is against the man he loves most.

Bianca is a fresh out of college with hopes and dreams of climbing the corporate ladder. Dean on the other hand is already at the top and just got divorced . Her whole lives takes a spin when her whole word collides with his

Narrative: Awakening, I felt as though I was submerged in water. "Meow," I attempted to articulate, but to my surprise, a feline sound escaped my lips instead! What on earth had she done to me? Why had she bathed me? And now, what was to be done with her in her current state of undress? I found myself cursing under my breath as I took in the sight of her alluring, bare form. My head was spinning... The warmth was gradually spreading throughout my body as I gazed upon her nudity... A mere few moments with her and I was uncertain if I could restrain myself... This couldn't be my fault, could it? She was the one who initiated it. Her beautiful face held my gaze as she tightly shut her eyes. She was too stunning to resist, and I was merely a lustful vampire who was attracted to her. "Could you please touch me more?" she implored. What was this sensation? A fire was ignited within me, a burning desire to caress her. The way she yearned for my touch was irresistible. I was so engrossed in her bare, voluptuous form that I hadn't noticed my transformation back into my human shape. By the time I realized I was already kissing her, it was too late, and she didn't protest, even though her eyes were now open. I was positioned above her, my size dwarfing hers, as if I were a titan and she was merely a mortal woman beneath me. I leaned down to kiss her, my eyes drawn to her collarbone, "Please, more..." she pleaded, "Please, more..." "Are you certain, my dear? Once I begin, I may not be able to stop."

They were supposed to be on the same team. Santos Khyle arrived in Seattle as the Soul Reapers' most anticipated rookie in years, a natural-born scorer with something to prove and a chip on his shoulder the size of a regulation puck. Gunner Jäger had been tearing up the ice as the team's feared enforcer for two seasons, and he had zero interest in sharing his spotlight with some orange-haired twenty-one year old who looked at him like he was a problem to be managed. From the moment they met, it was war. On the ice, they were a disaster. Off it, they were worse. Screaming matches in corridors. Fists through locker room walls. A live on-air brawl that made every highlight reel in North America and earned them both a suspension, a lecture from their furious coach, and the undivided attention of the entire hockey world. Nobody could stand to watch them together. Nobody could look away either. Because underneath the fury and the bruises and the months of spectacular mutual destruction, something else was building. Something neither of them had language for yet. Something that felt uncomfortably like the only fight either of them was actually afraid to lose. The Soul Reapers are one playoff run away from everything. Gunner and Khyle are one honest conversation away from falling apart completely. Or maybe, just maybe, from finally figuring out what they are to each other. Pucking Up the Ice is a slow burn MM romance set in the brutal and beautiful world of professional hockey. It contains explicit language, on-ice violence, emotional gut punches, two men who are absolutely terrible at feelings, and a love story that had to break everything before it could build something worth keeping.

She fell in love with the notorious antagonist. On the other hand, his heart beats only for one thing: her destruction. 🔞❗❗Trigger warning: This story contains mature themes, graphic content, explicit scenes, and may be triggering for some readers❗❗🔞

“Ahh…” A helpless sound escaped me when the stranger’s hand cupped one of my breasts, his mouth trailing down my neck to my ear. “Fuck… your tits feel amazing,” he groaned. “Tell me, has anyone else touched you like this before?” Why was he even asking that? Didn't he know questions like that only made my body feel even hotter—worse? “Has anyone else ever played with these?” he asked again, squeezing harder. His hand was already under my uniform—God, had he slipped it in without me even noticing? The heat of his palm against my skin made my knees weak. “N-No one… y-you’re the first,” I said before I could stop myself.

There isn't any cure for migraines. But my billionaire wife, Ashley Weston, has not had a single migraine for years thanks to my daily massage with both hands. On the day I get into a car accident, I beg a passerby to call her to save me. She replies impatiently, "So you're resorting to such shameless tricks just because I won't answer your calls?" Through the phone comes the mocking laughter of her childhood friend, Jordan Hanson. My right hand is permanently fractured, and my left hand suffers from muscle weakness after the accident. A lawyer helps me draft a divorce agreement. With much difficulty, I sign it and send it to Ashley. On the day her head throbs with unbearable pain, she looks at my drooping hands and remains silent for a long time.

Kimberly leans on her family and fall prey to their underhand, murderous scheme and counter scheme. Peaches And Bottles takes the reader by hand into all her survival, sex, wealth, beauty and love escapades. This novel is awesome, intriguing, and captivating.

Did you know that there is no cure for a migraine? However, my wealthy husband never suffered from it because my hands massaged him every day. On the day of my car accident, I begged a passerby to call my husband to save me, but he answered impatiently, "Is it necessary to use such a cheap trick on me just because I refused to take your call?" I could hear the malicious laughter of his childhood crush from the other end of the line. My right hand suffered a permanent bone fracture, while my left hand had signs of muscle deterioration. When the lawyer was done drafting the divorce papers, I signed them with great difficulty and delivered them to him. On the day he suffered a massive migraine, my husband looked at my limp hands and stayed silent for a long time.

My boyfriend, Jules Gray, was the most ruthless young Don of his family, while I was the best mercenary who had once struck fear into the hearts of the underworld. He said he liked gentle women, so I laid down my weapons for love. We were at war. To settle it, he broke my hand and sent me to the Grays' rival family as a 'sacrifice'. "Skylar Shaw, it's your honor to die for the Gray family." Three years later, I returned as the Donna, took over his territory, and blew up his arms ships. When he knelt before me, begging for mercy out of our past ties, I grabbed his neck with my mechanical right hand and fired the gun without hesitation. "Survival rule number one—the loser dies!"