Blindfold Tattoos Reviews Novels & Stories

"Is that what the tattoo is for? Your Mom?" She slowly nods her head and averts her gaze back towards the window, her tattoo peeking out just a smidge above her uniform collar. "For her... and my Dad. Black angel wings usually represent fallen angels. My Mom and Dad? They were my angels." Silence looms over us as I pull into the department parking lot and turn the engine off. "Will you talk to him for me, Crayvin? Just check on him for me, please? I don't want him alone, and you two are close. He probably needs you more than you think right now, even if he isn't ready to admit that to you, yet."

Two weeks later, Kieran fulfills his promise. He got Annaliese a martial arts teacher, one of the oldest warriors in the pack. His name is James. She has been training for a week now. Her mate had told me that if she does well, he'll let Kim train her too. According to Annaliese, she would be lying if she says training isn't hard, Training is FUCKING HARD!. What was she thinking?. How is it possible to train a blind she wolf?.

“He just put your medical information in a press conference.” “I know.” “Your blindness.” “I know.” “Your procedure. The fifty percent.” “I know.” “In public.” “I know.” “He’s doing this to hurt you.” That time Damien didn’t answer. I looked at him. At the tension in his jaw. At the way he had gone completely still. At three years of a private life being dismantled piece by piece by a man who had decided that if he couldn’t win legally, he would win by burning everything down. I stood there for another second.

His cock stood rigid against his stomach, already leaking from the slow, teasing prostate massage she’d given him while the plug still nestled deep inside. He heard her moving—soft footfalls, the metallic clink of tools, the low hum of the tattoo machine being tested. When she removed the blindfold, the first thing he saw was her: naked, skin gleaming with oil, Harlan’s heavy signet ring hanging between her breasts on a thin chain. In her hand: the tattoo gun, needle already loaded with black ink. Alex’s heart slammed against his ribs. “The family crest,” she said softly, almost reverently. “On the shaft. Permanent. Unremovable. The final seal that you belong to the line—and to me.”

Her mesmerizing and radiant beauty and the graceful curve of her figure, a captivating silhouette, drew his gaze like a moth to a flame. Her eyes, akin to liquid emerald pools, shimmered in the light, and he found himself ensnared in her eyes – where he felt the intoxicating pull of drowning within their captivating depths. Yet, it was the way she ogled at him that stole his breath away. Her eyes fixated on his tattoos, drawn to the intricate details inked into his skin. On his left arm, the Celtic Knot work with Fangs unfolded a captivating narrative, where fangs seamlessly blended with ancient Celtic motifs. The Veins and Blood tattoo, like a river of life, traced mesmerizing paths within

"Son what do you mean by she is blind." Jake mother asked him looking at Anastasia who can't see a thing. I instantly tensed and Jake could feel it since our hands where kinda of brushing each other. "You heard me right mum. She is blind she can't see a thing mum." Jake said squeezing my hand under the table. The tension was so thick in the air that you could slice it with knife. No body spoke for a minute or two before the voice I came to realize as Jake mum spoke.

Fastening the collar around her neck, he said, “Drake has a dragon tattoo on the left side of his neck. Short curly hair. Black-framed specs. Dark brown eyes.” “Okay,” she whispered, biting her lip at the pinch of the collar pressing against her skin. “Carson Meyer is the person you are sold to. He has dark brown eyes, no specs, and straight jet-black hair. It’s short, though. And you already recognize their voices, if I’m not wrong, right?” Theo turned around, holding the blindfolds. “Yes, Theo,” she replied, keeping her voice low—most probably because she couldn’t speak boldly, knowing she was sold to someone who might kill her on a mere suspicion of betrayal.

“Right there. Your name and music notes on either side. Maybe some little butterflies.” “Are you serious, Reb? That’s permanent, you know.” “I know. You don’t want me to?” She traced a tattoo on his forearm with one finger. It showed a dagger through a skull. It was a beautiful piece of art, but masculine. “Would you rather I get one that matches yours?” “I would love my name permanently etched on your sexy little back. I could stare at it while…” He lifted her shirt and took a peek at the area in question. “Damn…” he said breathlessly and gave himself a little shake. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go.”

Blair stood up. “I understand. Thank you, doctor.” … After leaving the hospital, Blair headed to a famous tattoo parlor in Richworth. “What brings you here, Master Blair?” The boss of the tattoo parlor was named Samson Holt, Solomon’s friend who often frequented his bar. Blair had met him a few times before and considered him an acquaintance. Blair asked, “Who’s the most experienced tattooist in your parlor? I want to ask about something.”

Her face was red, almost incandescent, and her eyes burned with an inner fire. The driver, understanding without a word, gently pulled the curtain separating him from his boss, refusing to hear what was about to happen. Chantelle continued her movements, trying to calm the fire consuming her body. Her breath became short, irregular. The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a black blindfold, and gently placed it over Chantelle's face. He removed his mask. Collen's gaze was troubled seeing the state Chantelle was in, then he slowly approached, his lips meeting Chantelle's with infinite tenderness.