Ed Hardy Tattoo Flash Book Novels & Stories

"Come over here and help Mommy open the presents, okay? Let's see what Lila brought for Mommy." A very exquisite gift box, Isabella was opening it while asking, "Misty, what do you think auntie would give mom?" Peeling back layer after layer, once it was opened, Isabella was immediately shocked. The exquisite gift box actually contained condoms, available in different sizes and even different flavors... Isabella thought that Lila, that girl, had forgotten about it. Unexpectedly, she really bought it and even packaged it like a boutique item, leaving her completely unprepared.

Then, surprise and sadness appeared in his eyes at the same time. He stood outside the tent and spoke softly, occasionally hiccuping, "Calista, I know that I've done wrong, and you can't forgive me for it. But I still hope that you'll forgive me. I really love you with all of my heart. I also want to have this baby with you." I scoffed coldly and answered sarcastically, "Vernon Grayson, you only care about having an heir. You don't care about me!"

“I mean, the tats aren’t exactly accurate, but they could pass for mine.” Jarrod said nothing. The bar lights were rotating colors so Hayden wasn’t sure if his face was red with embarrassment or not. He could however see the resolve in Jarrod’s eyes. His neck tattoos seemed grotesque, like he was trying to scare someone off. “Are you trying to be me?” Hayden teased. “Is that what this is about? And that chick, is she supposed to be Lola?” laughing wildly, he leaned back to study his brother. “I knew you were crazy, but not this crazy, right?”

Me staring at a naked guy for the second time in my damn life. My breath caught in my throat, trapped. I was trapped. My eyes completely rebelled against my brain's frantic commands to look the fuck away. Instead, they traced the dark, heavy ink of a tattoo etched across his upper shoulder blades. Three words, bold and unyielding: "Built Through Pain." The script wasn't flashy or arrogant. It felt heavy. It looked like a scar turned into art—a quiet testament to something survival-driven. A strange, unbidden ache blossomed in my chest just looking at it.

“Fuck,” I cursed in the hallway in front of Emily’s apartment. Another idiot is shouting to keep my mouth shut. “Fuck you!” I yell back and laughed at myself. What did I drink, or better yet, what a hell did Vicky give me to swallow? Emily’s door fly opened and I my god she looks beautiful in her short pyjamas, her perfect body screaming to be touched, and her soft poker lips, well I don’t think that’s poker lips, that’s more angry lips, but still looks like it wants to be kissed.

I hear a small laugh, but it's not a lie; this time I mean it. "The next time you text me in the middle of the night, I'll remind you of that." I hear talking on the other side of the door and I look up. "Don't worry. I locked it." Stacy confirms my unspoken question and I nod. "How much longer?" I ask, ready to put my clothes back on. There's a long pause and then the pain is gone. "You're all set." My feet are a little unsteady as I stand up and stretch. The muscles in my back ache but in a good way. Some people might not consider getting tattooed to be therapeutic, but in a weird way it helps me get through some shit in my head.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, my nails digging into his tattooed back. “Harder, Daddy,” I moan, voice breaking. “Please… I can take it.” Dean’s control snaps again. He grips my hips and starts pounding into me harder, faster, the bed creaking beneath us. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room along with my desperate moans. “That’s it, baby,” he grunts, slamming into me. “Take Daddy’s cock like a good girl. This is what you’ve been teasing me for, isn’t it? Walking around in those tiny shorts, getting my dick hard every fucking day.”

Always naked now. They found her in the hallway, still sleepy-eyed. Reid stepped forward first, temporary tattoo pen in hand—black ink, fine tip. He knelt, pressed her back against the wall, and lifted one of her thighs over his shoulder. The pen moved in elegant, looping script just above her mound: Ours. The letters were small, precise, curling like calligraphy. When he finished he blew softly across the ink to set it, then pressed a kiss to the center of the word.

In black, grey and blue ink, beautiful, intricate patterns of floral and wing designs mar my skin, but at its centre, Zefiro name sits majestically in stunning calligraphy. The bastard tattooed his name into my skin.

Fucking hell. My eyes greedily raked over her entire body, savoring each inch that was revealed to me. Her perky breasts with nipples that were already hardened peaks. Her trim waist that had our branded tattoo. There was a baby bump there now too, reminding me of our precious little blobs. The normally bare pussy had something new. The initials D and R were created by just a little bit of hair. Fucking right, babe. That pussy did belong to me. ‘Perhaps you should see if she’ll let you tattoo that right there,’ Byron suggested, excited by the show that she was putting on.