Hardin Scott Tattoos Novels & Stories

As I’m sliding them on, Jack walks into the backyard and I freeze when I see the snake tattoo up his side, the skull on his left peck and the scorpion on the other one. Individually these tattoos are fairly common, but how many people have all three in those same spots? Because JackDaddy21, my highest paying client, does. And his name is Jack. There’s no fucking way that’s a coincidence. No no no no no no. This is not happening. I’m gonna vomit.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."

“Come back soon, okay?” “Okay,” she hung up then. “I’m going to town. Am I needed for anything?” I asked Mr Stark when he walked in. My eyes were glued to the tattoos littered all over his upper body. His left sleeve looked like a forest scenery of some sort. Right at the back, he had numbers, a date, with a tiny baby handprint. I wondered what they meant. “You can go,” he said his back to me. ***** | Emmanuel Stark |

"For as long as you need. At least until the shareholders trust you as CEO. Then, you can end a marriage that never even existed. As simple as that," "And I'm not tied to him forever. It is unorthodox, to say the least, but desperate times called for desperate measures." "The most important question to ask now is: Will Scott agree to this madness?" I murmured. ******************* Scott asked me to meet him at a tattoo studio. I texted him saying we need to talk and this boy, as the gentleman he always is, directed me to a tattoo studio that reeked of alcohol. It buzzed with the steady hum of needles and the faint scent of ink mingling with antiseptic. It also smelled like failed dreams, disa

Scar kissed her neck softly as she traced every line of the ink as if she was re-inking them herself. A large skull was surrounded by an array of roses. A Christian cross in the back, behind the skull, stuck out to Lani because of the dove perched on it so innocently. Scar's tattoos were a mixture of dark and light, they described him perfectly. The same happened on his arms, one was decorated with the ideas of Satan, the other those of holy angels.

I gape. ‘What the heck!?!’ “Huh?! No!” I answered. “Why not, coconut, Xyna? You have the looks, you have the perfect skin, and you have the perfect body too because you're a boxer, your body is naturally beautiful” she said. Not that I'm ashamed of my own body, because like she said I have the body. I just don’t really like to expose my body. Also when we are at the resort. Of course there will ne a lot of people there, there's a possibility that they’ll see my tattoo — the tattoo crest of the Scotts. Scott's Tatoo Crest is a sign that you are a Scott. I’m sure people will wonder why I have a tattoo like that. It's on my back, people can't see it when I'm in the ring (boxing ring), because i

I really can’t stand how girls swoon over his looks, he’s not that cool if you ask me, he isn’t even muscular, just great hair, brows and tattoos. Wait a moment… Is it just me or, Hardin and I are just too similar for this stuff to pass off as a coincidence? Great hair, great brows, I don’t have tattoos but I do have a scar on my torso though, its really long though I don’t know how I got it if you’re planning to ask. I kinda like to think of it as my birth mark. Anyway… back to Hardin, I’m still pretty cooler than him though, right lil players? If you agree then I might send you a picture of my scar someday, hehe…

''Take off your shoes,'' I blurted. He didn’t move. I knelt down and tugged at them myself. Left shoe. Right shoe. Socks. He grunted something about pressure and bent down to pull off his coat. Then his shirt. And my brain flatlined. Tattoos covered his torso, ink winding through muscle and scar tissue in ways that were impossible not to stare at. A hawk spread its wings across his ribs, bold and dark. A skull, a rose, some Latin phrases. And beneath it all, scars. Faded lines that told stories I couldn’t begin to imagine.

I walked upstairs and straight into the bathroom and I took off my clothes to get in the shower and as I was waiting for the water to heat up I got a glimpse of the really large tattoo that covered the whole bottom of my back. I could hear my screams and the whip cracking over my back when I was a lot younger. The scars didn’t heal, which is why I got the tattoo. It’s of a large forest with wolves in the distance and in the forefront with a moon and everything. It’s a perfect scenery but just tattooed on my back. It was the only way to hide the scars. I don’t know why they didn’t heal on their own, but I hate them and I hated being reminded of that day. So I covered them up and tried to move

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c