Dylan Wang Tattoo Novels & Stories

A woman in a green polo shirt for the greenhouse with a giant rose tattoo on her left arm. “Thank you.” Shiloh smiled as she folded the shirts. “How is it going outside?” “Really good. We’ve already sold everything that we brought.” She offered her hand. “Rose Lowery. My husband and his crew are doing the temporary tattoos.” “Shiloh Montgomery.” She shook her hand. “Dino, Rocky and Gremlin. Right?” “Yeah. I’m married to Dino. Ink and Tats are out there too.” “Your husband has done several of my tattoos.” Placing the shirts in the bag, all black with silver writing and handles, Shiloh gave her the total.

I got even more wet and excited just by thinking about the things he would do with me and the positions he'd put me in. Gasping at the discovery, I couldn't believe it. No way it couldn't be, not him, not Mariah's brother. The tattoo was proof it was the exact same one, an angel with burning wings falling, it was in the exact same placement as well on his chest. Fuck! it was him, Danny's the guy from the fucking club.

Dylan lounges back in a plush chair, savoring a glass of whisky while watching Cheyne’s movements inside the ring. “Why don’t you take a seat? Dylan asks the man standing beside him. Adorned with intricate tattoos on his arms and a lengthy scar across his forehead. He’s unmistakably Dylan’s personal bodyguard. “I’d rather not, sir ...” he says in a serious tone. Dylan shoots a swift look his way. “Chill out, Marco. This fight’s gonna end soon,” Dylan asserts confidently.

Dylan looked to be in his early fifties and had a strikingly bald head, but that was not the only thing special about him. He also had a giant tattoo of a tiger spanning across his entire upper chest, making him look even more menacing than he already did. Dylan turned to stare at his son, who was at this moment sobbing as he clutched his swollen cheek. The next moment, he raised his arm and slapped Watson across his face, snarling, "You useless piece of sh*t! Have I not taught you enough? How can you even get beaten up by a weak man like this, and he has a child with him, no less! I'm ashamed of you!"

I tell him and went into the kitchen. I prepared two cups of hot chocolate and went to the laundry for a pair of black sweat pants and a white shirt. The shirt belongs to Felix but the pants is from Marielle Corp. I went back to the living room and almost dropped everything I was holding in my hands. There he was,Dante was standing there naked . I gulped and turn red,I couldn't take my eyes off him. He has gotten more tattoos on her torso up to his chest. His right chest has Ireal's name engraved in wings.

They both stood up and to their amazement, Yohan Dixon walked into the living room, his dark presence filling the room. Yohan's appearance was dishevelled. He seemed to have had a few drinks too many. The top two buttons of his light grey shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his well-built chest. The sleeves were casually rolled up, exposing a massive tattoo on his right arm. A golden watch adorned his left wrist, glistening. His long legs were encased in impeccably tailored black pants, and he carried himself with an air of undeniable authority. His eyes, usually so piercing, were now dark and bloodshot, indicating the effects of his drinking.

Not after canceling her work at Mari Vanna today because I need to imprint myself on her and until I get that done I won’t let her go. She hops into the car after me, slamming the door shut. Putting the car in reverse, I begin steering us toward the tattoo parlor a few minutes drive from here. “Where are we…?” Dawn leans down and gazes at the name of the place when I kill the engine. “A tattoo parlor?” “Yes. I figured it’ll be good to have our names on each other’s skin. That way people will know who we belong to.” I can see she's about to say no and call my thoughts crazy.

The ladies decided to host the dinner on the balcony. It was a safer bet to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. “How did you know he’s Anthony?” Daniel asked as they sat for dinner. “That’s my superpower.” Dana giggled. Tyrell made an ‘o’ shape with his lips while the others joined in the humor. “Every one of his men I have met so far had some sort of a tattoo on their left arm except this one. I made a gamble.” Dana shrugged.

I can recognize his ring form here. His eyes was still on me when I blinked out of my daze of shamelessly checking him out. I’ve never wish the club manager gave me a waitress job instead of pouring drink here all night as much as I do now. I could have walked up to him for his number or something. A waiter came to get an order and when I was done there was no sight of the tattooed man and the guy he was sitting with. With him gone, I tried to ignore the erotic scenes in my head to no avail.

Light spilling out. I move closer, staying in the shadows. And then I see him. Dante is at a sink, washing blood off his hands. His hair is wet—he must have showered. Water droplets are running down his bare back. His scarred back. With FARFALLA tattooed down his spine in elegant script. My name. My nickname. Permanently etched into his skin. I swallow hard, my eyes tracing the letters. Tracing the scars around them. Evidence of everything he survived. Everything he endured.