Cross Stitch Tattoo Novels & Stories

Touching her tattoo, I ask her what it means. “I don’t know how to explain it. You’ll think I’m crazy if I do,” she says. “Try me. I’ve had my fair share of crazy,” I offer in response. “I had the tattoo done after suffering a loss a few years back,” she explains. Pointing at it, she continues, “You see this? It’s called a Nautilus shell. Can you see how it curls up into itself, almost like it’s never ending? For me, that represents infinity with no end and no beginning.”

Katherine pov For me, the sexiest spot a tattoo can be found is on a man’s rib and of course his fingers. I’ve heard a number of time how painful getting one on those spots can be, maybe that’s why I find it sexy. But is that why I can’t tear my eyes off this hot dude across this counter as well?

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

She was shy away and hid her in my chest. I placed her in a hot shower, pressing her back to me and kissed her neck. I was stunned when I opened my eyes. There was an old Italian tribal tattoo on her neck. What is it doing here? It was an arrow design with a crown holding double letter A. It was a symbol of the deity of death.

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

Stacy kept up a running conversation about nothing in particular to keep Angel's mind off of the little pain she was inflicting in order to stamp my name and ownership on her body. I kept one hand in hers while playing with her hair with the other; my eyes on the needle as it moved in short meticulous progress across her flesh. Three hours later we were done and my baby was sporting a brand-new tattoo right across her Mons; it said simply Colton Lyon's on top with a butterfly that covered both labia majora in the same color scheme as her angel wings. With the clit piercing in the middle it was fucking hot and my mouth watered at the sight of it. Stacy gave her a mirror to look at it and she

A tattoo—small but intricate—etched just below my skin. The infinity symbol, its delicate lines looping and intertwining seamlessly, radiated a sense of endless continuity. It was beautiful but haunting. A chill ran down my spine as I lightly traced the design with my fingers. My skin tingled at the touch, as if the mark carried some latent energy.

Both of them looked at me like I was insane. "First, he can tattoo? Second, you let him put his family crest on you? Damn girl." Becky laughed. I rolled my eyes. "Obviously. And well, it seemed fair. He let me tattoo him. The same spot, but his is a lotus flower sitting on a crescent moon with the five moon phases under it." I shrugged. "Wow. So you two are next level in this relationship. It's that serious." Becky whistled.

“I’m here for a tattoo.” He leaned back, arms folding across his broad chest. The motion made the fabric of his shirt strain. “You? A tattoo?” He laughed, low and cruel. “Let me guess. Tiny heart on your wrist? Or maybe a quote about ‘strength’ in some flowery script so everyone knows how deep you are.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the design. “Lower back. Crescent moon with vines. I have the reference.”

The tattoo artist asked Julie Williams what design she wanted. Julie turned to me with a faint smile on her face. “What did Annie choose? Maybe I’ll borrow some inspiration from her.” I remained silent. Zach Cross answered for me. “Give her the rose.” The tattoo artist froze for a moment. The tattoo pen in his hand hovered over the stencil. “Mr. Zach, that design was custom-made for Miss Annie. By tradition, the Godmother’s tattoo can only be placed on—”