Brock Lesnar Tattoo Novels & Stories

Between them, in elegant black script, sat the tattoo: CW His striking glassy gray eyes darkened as he stared. “There’s another one,” I said, voice turning low and teasing. “On my hip bone. Want to see that too?” He nodded once. I stood, unzipped the prison trousers, and nudged them down just enough to reveal the smooth skin of my hip. The second tattoo read CROWE in the same beautiful lettering, right above the delicate line of my v-cut. “I can’t see it properly,” Ryker murmured, his voice dropping. “Come closer.”

I approach the covered painting board and try to look under it. " WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Shouts a male voice. His voice invades in me chills, warm chills and when I turn to look at the person who shouted of anger, I realize it is still him. Zack Torneur, with a tower attached around his waist, living his naked well-sculptured chest seen with his wings tattoo. When I analyze him more deeply, apart from his curly hair and his light brown eyes, he has a light stubble beard. On his forarm the word GO in very big capital letters had been tattooed, on his biceps a big moon tattoo and on his thorax a rose surrounded by thorns. All this tattoo? What for? It seems he has other tattoos, but right n

The love of my life. Silvy The day after Goof proposed and claimed me he took me to Tank's tattoo shop to get my mark. Was I nervous? Hell yes. I was nervous about the entire process. Tank, bless the gentle giant, let me bring Ant in with us. Ant was a hit at the shop. I was a little worried the receptionist might not give him back. It took Tank forty five minutes to finish the work on my shoulder. According to Goof that is the least sexy part of my body. Did it burn? Sure. But not as bad as I thought it would be. I wanted to see what it looked like. Tank stood me in front of his mirror. It was amazing. It looked my the Renegades emblem with a motorcycle driving through the middle of it. A

Tha- He-' His mind was almost refusing to register what was in front of him. Braum slowly raised his hand and pointed towards Christopher his hand shaking, and mouth agap. Everyone followed his finger and jaws dropped. On Christopher's chest was a large tattoo of a Wolfs head with blood dripping from it's fangs. It was The crest of The Black Guard.

Slowly, he turns away from me, tugs at his shirt, and lifts it up. There! Pristine and raw, is a new tattoo on his skin. A black crown on his shoulder. My mouth goes dry and suddenly I can hear Layla as if she’s standing here with me: Tattoos. Every man of the Bratva has some. Some signify their past deeds, terrible or great things they’ve done, and their ranks. It doesn’t take a genius to know what the crown means. I'd suspected Yannick planned to kill me, but now I know for sure.

Karl gets up from the couch and stalks towards him, stopping to cross his arms and lean against the archway. “Nolan says his brother was a member of that gang, and it’s said that the design of their tattoos tells you what rank you were. Doesn’t seem like yours was all that big, I’m guessing you weren’t that big a member then,” he snorts. Harken just narrows his eyes, fed up with the night’s events as is, but lifts his shirt to rip it over his head, revealing the large mixed tribal and Celtic style tattoo that runs from his left wrist up his arm and to his chest, the intricate symbol of the Lewis tribe crest in the middle of his breast, and the large head of a wolf covering his shoulder, wind

At least, that is what I tell myself. Ryker doesn't answer me. Instead, he crouches low in front of me, his massive frame folding down like a predator that wants to toy with its prey. I catch the nasty manner with which his knuckles are bruised with scars, looking so rough like they have seen more than their fair share of fights. I also recognize the serpent tattoo coiling up his right forearm, with another tattoo that is a dead man’s skull circled by a crescent moon in blood-red ink right on his left bicep.

He scoffed, taking off his trousers, and I looked away. A wave of dread washed over me, not sure what to expect next. Fear rose in my chest as I curled my fingers into the bedspread. By the time I looked back up, he was fully undressed, but he had his back facing me. I felt a drool escape my lip as my eyes traveled over his body—broad shoulders, his muscular back adorned with a large crest tattoo, identical to his brother's, except he was larger, taking up the entire top left side of his back. The tattoo depicted a shield with two swords crossed above it. Two lions stood on their hind legs, pulling the shield from both sides. Below the shield, a banner displays the name "Dontrell." The desig

“And today’s business was…mafia business?” “A bit of both, but I can’t say much about it for now,” I admit, then I point to my left shoulder. “The eight-pointed stars tattooed on my shoulders is a Bratva insignia. You’ll see most of my men with the same tattoo, although I’m the only one with the same stars tattooed on my knees.” She’s quiet for a few seconds as she seems to be thinking it over, then she lays back and sighs. “That indicates that you’re in a higher position?” she asks, and I nod. “Ah, okay.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stubborn man. I purse my lips and eye Liam once more. Like a mind reader, he picks up the iron bar and this elicits even greater fear in the young man. “No! NO! PLEASE NOOOO!” He is branded again, this time over his chest where a tattoo of a skull with a worm crawling out of its empty socket resides. He screams and reflexively draws himself toward the scorched spot, howling from the stinging pain even as his skin evaporates under the extreme temperature of the bar.