Front Neck Tattoo Novels & Stories

A few more hours passed and finally, he was done, letting me relax my sore neck muscles from sitting straight for a long time. "It's done" my hand went to rub my front neck slightly before I let my hand fall on my collarbone. Neck a little tense from the bowing position. He holds a mirror in front of me and I turn my body to the side, looking at the new tattoo on my skin and I smile in contentment. "So pretty" I gape at the tattoo with admiration before my eyes gaze up to look at Vincenzo only to find him looking- okay no, staring hard at it, and if stare could kill, my skin would be burned by his stare.

"When did you get ink on your neck?" "Are you going deaf or dumb, Xan? I said Scarlet has the tattoo. And on her chest, not her neck." Asher looked at his twin as if the other man was entering the beginning stages of senility. Xander rolled his eyes. "I know, and I can see that one as well. It matches, exactly, the one that's decorating your neck." Xander pushed his brother's head down, exposing the length of Asher's neck. I leaned up, curled my upper body over Asher's. "He's right, Asher. It's the same symbol, just done in heavy black."

Summer’s fingers shook as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt from the top by his throat. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck and knew that he was fighting the urge to bite her. He remained motionless, waiting for her to move further. She could feel the tension increase as she slowly made her way down, gradually releasing each button to display his muscular chest. Her eyes were transfixed by an emerging tattoo. On his sternum was tired tree branches that spread off in every direction. As she pushed her hand to open more of his shirt the patterns changed towards his arms which took a haunted vein and shattered glass appearance. On the end of some of the branches had numerous nam

Good for him. My eyes drifted up, catching on something I hadn’t noticed before: a tattoo peeking just above the collar of his jacket. A serpent—coiled, detailed, the scales inked in deep black and subtle greens. It curled around the side of his neck, the tail disappearing under his ear, the head resting near his Adam’s apple like it was about to strike. I tilted my head. “New ink?” His hand flew to his neck instantly, fingers pressing the collar higher to cover it. His frown was immediate and for a second he looked almost startled, like I’d caught him doing something wrong.

“is just for fun.” Heat climbed up my neck. “And what’s the fun one supposed to mean?” “You’d have to find out for yourself.” His voice dipped low again, and I swore my heart skipped. One of his friends Ryan grin leaned in then, resting an elbow on the table. “You’re not the only one with ink worth showing off,” he said, tugging up his own sleeve. The tattoo was intricate, swirling with roses and blades, like beauty tangled with danger. The other two joined in, each showing me their designs a phoenix across one’s back that peeked over his collar, a serpent winding down another’s arm in precise, dangerous curves.

He put the boxers back in his closest. He walked back. His all tattoos were visible. The first time his upper half was revealing the one tattoo that was stretched along his neck. The ink on his neck was a snake circling his neck like a permanent choker, the pattern looked like a compressed font of Devil with its scary fangs looking like they are permanently feeding on his blood. He also has many tattoos on his arm making a sleeve like an illusion on his right arm and also covering a little part of his chest.

the tattoo artist asked, and Athena was thoughtful for a few seconds. "Here," she moved the hair that covered her neck. "Behind my ear, make it small but with every stroke quite detailed." "Won't it hurt her?" the Italian asked the man. "It will be slight, you will only feel discomfort or some itching," the tattoo artist explained, preparing his equipment of tools. "Good, proceed." The penetrating aroma of the ink permeated the tattoo studio while Athena settled into the chair, slightly nervous. The tattoo artist, with experience and skill, prepared his tools, ready to capture the Leo constellation behind the young woman's ear.

Shorter than his brother’s. He also has tattoos. Prominent and black. There’s a bold text I can’t read across his throat. There are symbols and gothic-style lettering around the rest of his neck, and small tatts trailing down his forearms and knuckles. I bet his chest is tatted, too.

His hands wrap around my upper arms for an instant as he puts space between us, and the shock of his touch reverberates through me. "Hey," he says, his expression blank, but I could still see the subtle hint of anger. He wasn't holding the mask anymore, and I wondered if he had thrown it somewhere. The mask was part of what we agreed to use for identification. My lips form the word hi, but my vocal chords refuse to make a sound. His throat is directly at my eye level, and I'm staring straight at the swirling calligraphy inked into his skin. Tattoos. On his neck. Neck tattoos. And it looked a bit raw. There wasn't a neck tattoo when I booked him two nights ago. On closer look though, the tatt

Gerald grunted before stepping out of the tent. I pulled myself off the recliner and glanced around the tent. Situated in the corner was an old antique mirror, the kind that could turn and flip. I supposed some things didn’t change. I approached the mirror with my hands firmly clasped over my chest and turned. My jaw dropped to the floor as I took in the image on my back. I had thought the tattoo would be small, or at least small enough to be unassuming. I had expected a tattoo that sat just below my shoulder, but this had exceeded all of my expectations. Across my entire back, from shoulder to hips, was the flaming image of a phoenix.