Novel & Cerita Inner Forearm Tattoos For Guys

The hoodie draped loosely over his head, obscuring his face, but the flicker of city lights occasionally illuminated the sharp lines of his jaw and the hints of a sinister smirk playing on his lips. The wind picked up, a fierce breeze whipping across the rooftop and causing the hood to flutter. As the fabric shifted, it revealed a chiseled, muscular torso adorned with intricate tattoos, each line telling a story of violence, power, and mystery. Prominently displayed on the left side of his chest was a large, bold tattoo—the words *Nosce Hostem* inked in a jagged, menacing script that seemed almost to pulse with life against his skin. The tattoo, a clear message, spoke of a deep connection to

Nadia's POV I lay in bed, hearing the chirping of birds and seeing the small amount of sunlight peeking through the curtains in mine and Nate's room. I bite my lip as I think about what happened between us last night. It was pre bliss. I roll over in bed and watch his peaceful sleeping form, bare chested and muscles fully on display. His left arm is over his eyes, which is where his forearm tattoo is. I take the time to admire it closely, the intricate vines, thorns and cracks perfectly placed, travelling up his arm until they fade away into his skin close to his elbow. I glance as his bare chest, realizing he has many more tattoos that I never noticed before.

He also wore an ash colored sweat pants and I could swear that he had no boxers on. For a minute or more, my eyes took in every detail of his hot banging body. Squared shoulders enough to contain ten of my thighs, biceps sexy as hell, lips tempting as ever, then the tattoo? My goodness! How could he draw something so filthy on his body? And of all places, he chose his arm? It was a beautiful picture of a dripping pussy. A closer look at it will make you think it's a waterfall, but then? Isn't that what a pussy is?

My body tingled, the pain on my butt cheek sending a jolting message to my brain. This time, he fully turned until he was staring at me. It was my turn to ogle him. Black and red ink ran the length of his arms, one sleeve extending to the outer side of his chest, and leaving his pectoral muscles bare. I traced the intricate design on that specific one, and when I made out an angry dragon swallowing the little red heart just right above his left rib cage, I knew damn well that any chances of redemption for this man were long gone. They were gone before decided to ink THAT onto his skin.

"Drink." I drank. It burned. My eyes watered. "Oh my God." "You'll survive." He finally sat down. One stool away. Close enough that I could see the tattoos on his forearms properly now – a date inked in delicate script on the inside of his wrist, a constellation I didn't recognize on his inner forearm, something that looked like a woman's handwriting curling up toward his elbow. Stories written on skin. I wanted to read every single one.

Yes, I want a mate, but I will not turn down an evening with the fine specimen of a male sitting across from me. Because damn, he is fine. He’s in a simple outfit consisting of a white button up and black slacks, but he is wearing it. He’s left the top three buttons of the shirt undone, revealing the edge of a tattoo on his left pectoral, and through the fabric of the shirt I can see it extends across his chest, to his shoulder and down his left bicep. He’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and there is another tattoo on the inside of his right forearm.

Except Alexei didn’t have a hairy chest, and the intricate tattoos on his arms were quite a sight when he removed his suit jacket. They were both full-sleeved tattoos on both arms, covering him from the wrists all the way to his shoulders. They were all in black ink, with some designs more prominent than others. A wolf’s head covered most of his right bicep, while something of an archangel covered the other. A snake wrapped around the entirety of his left forearm. The rest were too small for her to discern from where she sat. “No, you go home with your father, after this whole storm clears,” he replied, folding his jacket. “It’s not my style to keep girls hostage. Your father and I will keep

Dominique Gray in a short-sleeved loose T-shirt. I bring my gaze down his body, shamelessly eyeing the man and how perfect he looks right now. His left arm is fully inked with different tattoos and boy does this man look hotter than he normally does? His right arm is not left untouched, there are a few tattoos on his right arm but not a full sleeve tattoo like his left arm. He looks roguish, like a college bad boy, and not like the arrogant and cocky billionaire I’ve gotten used to. Who knew he had tattoos? A full-sleeve tattoo for that matter.

I inwardly murmured to myself. Ethan had a tattoo on his back. Right across his shoulders were medium- sized horizontal wings. They looked a little Goth and almost Greco-Roman in their black inked starkness. I loved the quote underneath the wings. No more yielding but a dream. I saw it in the shower when he turned to get the soap.

As I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him, shaking my head slowly, he extended an arm toward me. I focused on the tattoo printed on the back of his forearm. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt tonight. It was the first time I’d ever seen him in short sleeves. Sculpted biceps bulged through the black cloth of his T-shirt. But below that, both his forearms were covered with tattoos.