Carnation Drawing Tattoo Novels & Stories

"Yep. But why is there a bandage on your shoulder?" He grinned. "I didn't think it was fair for you to get pierced without me having something painful done. So I got this." He peeled back the bandage to show her the tattoo. Clearly visible, even with the skin around it an angry pink, was a red and black Celtic knot in the shape of a heart.

The heavy fabric shifted off his shoulder, and that’s when I saw it. He had a big tattoo running up from his chest, over his collarbone, down to the right side of his neck. No, not a tattoo. A birthmark. Dark ink under the skin. The drawing was a wolf and a dragon, entwined, hugging each other, their tails forming a circle. My blood went cold. “Daron,” I whispered in my head.

Cain scoffed, feeling his anger begin to resurface. "My relationship is none of anyone's business but mine." he said. crossing his arms. "Is it not her business too?" Evelyn asked rhetorically. "What about your pack? Is it not their business that they have a Luna?" "In order for her to be a Luna she has to be marked by her mate, the Alpha, and inducted into the pack." "And you're not going to do either of those things?" Evelyn asked. Cain shook his head. "I can't mark her."

He say but I'm to focused on his tattooed body to care about anything he says right now. My fingers trace the inked skin. He has a huge tattoo of Kali, the goddess of destruction, on his front. Different designs litter his skin but my favourite has to be the flower on his neck. It is the only tattoo that has colour out of them all on his front. He has his nipples pierced and I never thought I would say this but it looks really sexy.

As my eyes follow his neck I find our mark sitting there like the most beautiful tattoo with its simplicity. The triple moon sits on our neck, the outlines clean and crisp. Inside the full moon sits two paw darkened paw prints. Three stars connected by thin lines rest above the full moon and waning crescent. Tracing the image I enjoy watching Damon shiver while I whisper, "it's beautiful."

The denial hurt, but it made every touch feel sharper and more intense. She turned toward me, her hand resting tentatively on my chest. Her fingers traced my tattoos through the tank top, light but curious. The contact sent fire racing through my veins. I caught her hand and guided it lower, pressing her palm firmly against the thick bulge straining my shorts. Her fingers curled around the outline, squeezing gently. “Oh God,” she whispered. Her eyes widened with a mix of awe and raw want. “You’re so big…” “That’s going to stretch you open, baby,” I growled, thrusting lightly into her hand. “Gonna ruin this tight little cunt so no one else ever satisfies you again.”

I sighed as I removed my finger on my lip. I describe my tattoo to be a heart, not a love shape. A heart precisely, with a lock at the left ventricle. I described the lock to be the one you see on a door handle, where your key fits in. I added the heart should be in red ink and the lock darkened to create a real image. Then 'Bunny' should be written in calligraphy at the bottom side of the heart. "You know, that would require more lines on your skin, yeah?" the tattooist responded.

But he was still anticipating seeing what would be his next move. Carson just placed his hand right over the blanket covering his hard rock dick. He had his one leg was stretched straight and other was bent inside... He was looking no less than a sexy model. Displaying his tattoos. Only Carson among the three had tattoos on his body. His arm had a black band; his right leg had an ANCHOR right above his ankle and not to forget the DEVIL TRYING TO CATCH HIS NIPPLE. Well it was a devil printed on his chest above his left nipple extending his hand as in to grab his nipple.

CINNAMON He stood shirtless in the cabin's warm light, and I couldn't stop staring. There was a freaking tattoo of my face, inked slightly left, centered over his heart. Not some generic artistic interpretation, my actual face. The artist had captured the slope of my nose, the curve of my lips, even my thin eyebrows. Below it, my name was written in my own handwriting. The looping C, the way my n's always tilted slightly right, the flourish on the final n that I'd developed in high school and never lost, all accurately inked.

Then he walks around the car to slide in behind the wheel. "Nice tattoo you got there ... if one above the ass is a tramp stamp, what is that one called". My eyes rest on the drawing that starts between her breasts and spreads out into a beautiful rose under them. She lets her fingers slide down over the tattoo. "It's a 'I'm a bad ass bitch stamp'" "Well the bitch part fits perfectly". I can't stop staring at her fingers caressing her skin. Damn no doubt she has the upper hand right now. My body is almost unable to contain the desire.