Evil Demon Hand Tattoo Novels & Stories

A task she had neglected this past week, until today. She’d been at the library for a few hours searching for anything remotely about “self-appearing tattoos” and “burning tattoos.” The worst article stated that a person who had a tattoo suddenly appear was marked by the devil and was an instrument of evil. She discounted it, even though it still bothered her. She had never been one to think mean or evil thoughts, nor she had never done anything evil or mean to another person in her life. So, she reasoned, the description didn’t fit her situation.

Picking up my glass, I lightly sipped my alcohol, the stinging liquid coursing through my body. “We have, huh?” I said, putting my glass down with an intensity that made some of the stuff spill out. “Look at these pictures. Notice their hands. They all have the same tattoo on their hands… like the head of a cat or lizard. That must mean something. Find out the mafioso faction or any group with these types of tattoos and get back to me.” “Yes, boss,” he said, standing. He bent to pick up the pictures but I stopped him.

He did not bother to lift his gaze. But Dr montoya was able to notice the devil's fork tattoo he had on his wrist. She noticed it as she would have noticed Sin itself. She frowned. He had also a tattoo of triple six on his nape. Now, that was bad. Real badness. He must have changed within the years she hadn't known him. Had three years more made him more impossible?

I moaned in response to the fire Dominique touch did on my body. I couldn't bear it anymore, the fire in me was increasing. I tugged off Dominique’s shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion. My hands roamed his broad and muscular chest, tracing the contours of his muscles before sliding lower, exploring the taut skin of his abdomen, he had one of the most perfectly smooth abs you could ever see. By the right side of his abs, he has a tattoo of a majestic dragon seated on a throne. It was a sight to behold. I Instinctively roamed my hands round it, caressing it like I was appreciating the work of art my eyes was beholding.

But he was still anticipating seeing what would be his next move. Carson just placed his hand right over the blanket covering his hard rock dick. He had his one leg was stretched straight and other was bent inside... He was looking no less than a sexy model. Displaying his tattoos. Only Carson among the three had tattoos on his body. His arm had a black band; his right leg had an ANCHOR right above his ankle and not to forget the DEVIL TRYING TO CATCH HIS NIPPLE. Well it was a devil printed on his chest above his left nipple extending his hand as in to grab his nipple.

He was sitting on the other rooftop beside her. He raised his hand and the black fog circled his wrists, settling around on his wrist and forming a demonic tattoo on his skin. "Evandros?" She whispered under her breath and stared at him with a light frown on her face. He was far from her so she could not make out his expression clearly but he was looking in front of him. His long black hair was resting on his shoulder and dancing with every gust of wind. His black robe was slightly loosened and he was not having his sword with him.

My orgasm rips through my soul as flashes of light dance behind my eyelids. "Look at me, Erica. Open your eyes and watch." At his command, I open my eyes in time to watch as Callan reaches behind his neck, tugging his shirt off over his head, revealing the tattoo I've seen peeking through the collar of his dress shirts on several occasions. His tattoo is of two black and grey. The design is intricate and spans his whole right shoulder and over his peck. If I had to guess, I'd say the tattoo is a representation of his last name. My eyes travel south to where he is lowering the zipper of his jeans and pulling them down just enough for his length to spring free. I look on, hypnotized at the way

The side of his hand struck my face, and I tasted blood as my teeth clashed against his skin, the coppery taste flooding my mouth. “Fucking bitch,” he spat, slapping my face harder. The room spun. He pulled a thick tape from his pocket and slapped it over my mouth with cold efficiency, making my pulse race. He shoved me to the floor, my hands bound in front of me. I could barely move, barely breathe—the pain was suffocating. He walked to the door and locked it from the inside. Then he removed his white coat, revealing a tight-fitting black shirt. His arms were covered in tattoos, including one on his hand that read "GDL." The letters seemed to mock me. His body was full of ink, each design d

There was something everybody in the room had in common, and that thing is their evil and gut-killing aura. None of them were smiling. But if there was anybody that had the most notorious and evil expression, it was the guy sitting in the direction opposite the other six. He had the darkest hair in the world, dark-brown eyes that showed his hatred against humanity and his devilish personality. Across his left cheeks is a beautiful yet sleep-tormenting tattoo of the Indian red Scorpion. Raven seemed to be in torture as he looked at the six men before him. His hands were balled into a fist and it seemed like he was holding his breath as he observed each of their faces.

I shake my head at him and look away. He's sitting with his knees pulled up and his arms draped lazily over them, giving me a view of his arm and hand tattoos. He has 'love' and 'pain' tattooed across his knuckles; on his right hand, he has a rose, and on the left, he has a skull. My eyes follow up his arms looking at the artwork on them for a second before I rip them away and return my glare to him.