Cute Badass Hip Tattoos Novels & Stories

He also wore an ash colored sweat pants and I could swear that he had no boxers on. For a minute or more, my eyes took in every detail of his hot banging body. Squared shoulders enough to contain ten of my thighs, biceps sexy as hell, lips tempting as ever, then the tattoo? My goodness! How could he draw something so filthy on his body? And of all places, he chose his arm? It was a beautiful picture of a dripping pussy. A closer look at it will make you think it's a waterfall, but then? Isn't that what a pussy is?

Nate's hold on my hand tightens into a grip. Gosh, Killer is so massive. The side of his forehead is plastered with a bandage dotted with a large red stain, which is obviously blood. His upper lip is split, the bruise now swollen with a purple colouration. A long straight scar runs from the left side of his mouth up towards his earlobe. He is shirtless, his black tattoos covering every inch of the skin of his neck and chest and shoulders and abdomen. His tattoos make me wonder why Nate doesn't have even one. I thought it is like a formal tradition for all fighters to have at least two or more tattoos on their bodies. But damn, this guy's tattoos are like legions of dark ink crawling all over

Did I forget to mention that Jake is a giant? Okay that's a bit of an exaggeration but he is at least six four. I'm sure the leather jacket over the tank with the tattoos on his neck and some of the ones on his chest peeping through added to the visage of a badass. People just automatically got out of the way and pretty soon we were in the cool night air. His grip on my hand was tight and sure and gave me strength. I don't know what was coming next but I knew this time I was going to fight. "Let's go baby we'll take my bike and come back for your car later." He pulled me over to this monstrosity of black and chrome. I'm not an expert but I do believe it's what people in the know might call a

Damn. My mate stood before me in just a pair of basketball shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips. Underneath all the bruises, dirt, and sweat, his body was magnificent. There was a large tribal tattoo on his right arm that spilled over onto his chest. I wanted to feel every inch of that chest, commit that tattoo to memory. His 8-pack was so well defined it looked like it was airbrushed, and that v-line? I just want to run my tongue... My thoughts were interrupted by Aaron clearing his throat.

He had just one tattoo drawing, on his heart area, like a comic parody of — is that Cat Woman? And more than that, he emitted a darker aura than the other two. For the love of God, are those abs even real? They were all so fucking ripped, like those men who give hardcore BDSM fucks in those p**n videos I watch with Gilda. Oh gosh! Was this the sex suite? The one sitting seemed ripped, as his shirt fit him like a glove, stretching out his muscles, and also the one standing with a phone, he was fucking ripped. But the one dressed in black and had a shirt on his shoulder? He was fucking shredded. A buff fellow, my God!

Toys, objects and violent sex and it amazed me that I still found a way to focus on enjoying the act even after he was done with me, but I guess the human brain can normalise anything when it’s done enough. I only have one visible scar, hidden by a tattoo of a dandelion head on my hip. One mark where Rick slashed me in rage because I wouldn’t hold still while he drunkenly abused me. He smashed his bottle and somehow managed to get me across my hip bone. I had seven stitches and the stem of my tattoo means you never see it. Cleverly placed, so unless you trace it with your finger it looks like a stem and nothing more.

That night, Henry finally let go of all restraint. The room lay in shadow, and he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, the lights of Riverton flickering like stars beyond the glass. “Claire…” “Yes?” “I want to get another tattoo.” “Where?” He gripped my hand and pressed it to his lower back, mirroring the spot that corresponded to mine. There, with each of his breaths, a faint outline of a feral totem emerged. “I want to tattoo your image. I want to carve you into my bones forever.”

However, both men were covered in tattoos and muscles. Alpha Jace was a natural bleach blonde with freckles. He had such a baby face that he put a snake tattoo across his chest, around his neck and on his cheek. With working out for ten hours a day, he transformed his adolescence appearance to a bodybuilder in months. Jacob and I always wondered if he used any enhancers because of this.

“As I did before.” The white puppets from outside hurtled toward Stringmaster, gathering around her. Footsteps echoed outside, as if the inmates all stepped toward the cell at once. “Do not test me, sylph.” “I’ll fight back,” she said, holding her ground. “I won’t feel guilty hurting your current human shields.” Her eyes swept over the big man beside her, noticing the tattoos covering his skin. At first glance, the inkwork seemed chaotic—a mishmash of poorly shaded lines and jagged outlines. Sloppy work, she thought. But the more she looked, the more deliberate it seemed. Hidden within the mess were grotesque images—women in chains, women with animals…

At the same time, the bald man grabbed my legs, spreading them wide and pressing my knees toward my chest, leaving my pussy completely exposed. The bearded man and the bald man stared at my pussy in awe, their hungry eyes devouring every inch of my pussy, and their look alone sent a rush of heat through me. It made me feel wanted and desired. The bald man pressed his rough, calloused thumb against my pussy before sliding it lower, tracing the delicate skin of my asshole as he followed the swirling rose patterns inked there. The design flowed into the large butterfly tattoo spread across my pussy, the dark ink disappearing between my slick, swollen, pierced pussy lips. His touch lingered, sav