Ella Purnell Tattoos Novels & Stories

"You can have as many as you fucking like, Aaro. I am getting a tattoo today." "Can I get one too?" she asked softly. I nodded. "Want to get one for your sister?" By the end of the afternoon, she had three piercings in her ear and a small tattoo that said ERO on the inside of her upper arm. The tattoo guy had given her several options, but she said all the letters needed to be in caps. Which you don’t usually do with a name, but fuck it if that’s what my girl wants then that's what she gets.

My little escape for the night to be with my number one rebel partner, Ben. I padded across the room toward my dresser, opening a jar of lotion. The subtle scent of vanilla filled the air as I trailed my fingers over my arms, rubbing the cream in absentmindedly. My gaze landed on the small mirror propped on the corner of the dresser, catching a glimpse of the intricate tattoo curling along my collarbone. The mark. My mark. With a soft smile, I turned to face the mirror more fully, letting the towel slip just enough to reveal the dark, swirling design etched into my skin. I traced the lines with my fingertip, marveling at how something so permanent could appear so delicate.

“Keep teasing baby, circle your clit for me.” She doesn't hesitate, her fingers follow my command, circling her clit gently. “Caelum,” my name falls from her lips, a soft moan covering it. It sounds so pure on her tongue, so effortless. My cock hardens and I grunt, fighting the urge to devour her. My gaze lifts, meeting hers. “Hmm?” I retort, my hand undoing the buttons on my shirt. Aurora 's gaze drops to my chest, gazing at the inked bareness of it. Her name is tattooed on me, but I highly doubt she's noticed it, very few people do, they get too distracted by the sleeve or other tattoos on me to notice her marking tattooed on me. It was a drunk decision, but somehow I've never regretted it

He thought again, "sinuous, dangerous and supremely sexual." One tattoo in particular was prominent and drew the eye; it was a bright red "slut stamp" very low on her lower back that was repeated low on her belly, just above the pubic mound. It said, in both locations, "Candy Slut to Paulo Zero." The words of the tattoo were in a pre-Columbian language that Barnes would never have a hint of. In addition, like a Bay area poster from the psychedelic era the tat's lettering was very stylized, even if it was in English it would be near impossible to read. Some English word fragments were visible in the edging and lines of the distorted shapes. Incorporated into the tat were sexual images and tri

When she finally stepped out, droplets sliding down her thighs, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips slightly swollen from biting them too hard. Her eyes were glassy with something unspoken. And when she turned, she saw it again — the mark on her left hip. A tattoo - like crest. Etched into her skin like a brand. It shimmered faintly in the light, elegant yet powerful. A circular sigil framed by olive leaves and ancient runes, with an owl perched atop a spear pointed downward, its wings wrapped protectively around the circle.

And if you complain too much, I'll start rolling on you. With a little effort, Elena managed to get his shirt off and was amazed at how many tattoos he had. The room was only dimly lit – a lamp was turned on in the left corner of the bed – so she couldn't see very well, but she could see the shape of some of them. His left shoulder had some sort of tribal tattoo, very detailed, full of shapes and not leaving too much skin exposed. The rest of her arm had a fire snake that went all the way to the wrist, which is why she had never seen it, as she had only seen him in long sleeved shirts and they were hidden all the time.

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.”

He took off his shirt and threw it away. Elena was seeing it mesmerized when he removed his shirt and that’s when her eyes landed on the tattoo. It looked like a wound. But it was same as hers. “E” filled with red ink on his left chest. Her throat pricked. Her eyes roamed over his body which was indeed more spectacular than she remembered. Then their eyes met and she saw lust mixed with something else.

Luke's awe was clear as Clay finished my tattoo, his skilled hands bringing to life the intricate design we'd agreed upon. It was more than ink on skin; it was a symbol of our intertwined lives, our shared journey. The art was so quintessentially us, capturing the essence of our bond in bold, swirling lines and shaded crescents.