Intertwined Hearts Tattoo Novels & Stories

I sighed as I removed my finger on my lip. I describe my tattoo to be a heart, not a love shape. A heart precisely, with a lock at the left ventricle. I described the lock to be the one you see on a door handle, where your key fits in. I added the heart should be in red ink and the lock darkened to create a real image. Then 'Bunny' should be written in calligraphy at the bottom side of the heart. "You know, that would require more lines on your skin, yeah?" the tattooist responded.

The world outside the closet faded away, leaving just the two of us. When my tears finally stopped, I leaned back, my face drying but my hands still trembling. My gaze flickered to his lips, so close and inviting. Without thinking, I rose onto my toes and pressed my lips to his. I placed my hands on his shoulders as our lips locked. I liked the taste of it and without even realizing, we were already deep into it. I took out my tongue and let it tangle with his.

"This is the reason we're in this situation in the first place." "I want to see you." I pulled the fabric up and over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. The firelight played across his skin, turning him golden. My eyes found the tattoo over his heart, my face, rendered in delicate ink. A permanent promise etched into his skin with my name. I pressed my lips to his chest, right over the tattoo, right over his thundering heart. He sucked in a sharp breath as I trailed kisses across his collarbone, along his shoulder, back to the center of his chest.

“I’ve never counted. At least three.” Her hand glides over my chest, slow and grounding, drifting downward — anchoring me to the present, to being alive, to her. And for the first time in a long while, the demons hesitate. “Is this where the iron went through you?” she asks after a while, her voice barely louder than a breath. Her fingers trace the tattoo on my hip, slow and reverent, following the ink that hides the scar beneath it. Two laurel branches — a symbol for her name — curve like angel wings, delicate yet strong at the same time. And a tiny heart.

He shook his head against her neck. “Why?” She snarled angrily. He kissed her over their wedding chain on her neck. “I love you, Sweets. I love you so much….” His fingers fastened down there. Sanvika twisted in pleasure. “Vivaan,” she gasped. He did not stop. He went faster, licking away the sweat on her collar bone. Sanvika shivered, she felt it, she was going to…

Expect Lyra, of course. Here I am talking with the wedding planner about the arrangements with Brian by my side. He is sitting on the couch right beside me, his one hand is holding my hand while the other is on my waist, keeping me close to his as fit as a fiddle torso. If anyone sees us this way, they will think we are in love, we can’t stay away from one another. However, the reality is far from this visual, don’t worry, very soon the madly in love part will come true.

he whispered him her ear. she opened her eyes and they met his. they had that glow she had missed. the glow she had longed for. lewis held her face concavely with both his hands like an egg, something precious. her heart started beating first, in her mind she was hoping he wasn't going for one of his asphyxiating kisses, the body wanted it though. it was now a battle of superiority between the two distinctive components of self. "from now on" he said his guess fixed on her, "i promise to try and never make you cry again"

What does he mean that’s for later? Cutting off the straps of my thong as well, he takes a step backward and removes his bowtie, which was already loose and hanging around his neck. As he gets to work unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes do not leave mine and even as they’re filled to the brim with anger, I can see the hunger. I was right about his body being covered in tattoos, but in this case, only his back and sides, save for one tattoo over his left pectoral, right over his heart. It is a black heart with a dagger with the words SANGUE PER SANGUE.

His hair was wet, and he had nothing but boxers on. I had a vivid view of his tattoos. Adorning his back was a fierce-looking wolf, jaws agape and poised to seize its prey. On his chest, a heart ensnared in thorny vines bled profusely, the tendrils winding their way to a blossoming rose, seemingly coloured by the lifeblood drawn from the heart. Positioned on the left side of his chest was a strikingly fierce yet captivating eagle. Additional intricate designs adorned his arms, crafted with bold strokes of black ink. The well-defined muscles accentuated the synergy between his movements and the artistic lines. I found myself pondering about the talented artist behind these captivating creatio

No matter how hard she searched, though, she couldn't find him. She clenched her fists to her sides as her chest became a burning fire, hotter with each new second passing. He is mine, she silently said in fierce rebellion, he should belong to no one else but I. All three of them stood together, yet the tension between them was palpable some sort of invisible wall that nobody knew how to break. Their whole lives, they had been interwoven into some kind of fragile tapestry, with all things shared in between. Tonight, that tapestry seemed to be coming undone.