Jalen Green Tattoo Novels & Stories

I wanted this tattoo to represent both parts of him, and that's why I asked Madeline to draw his wolf's eyes blue. I wanted to do something special for Jarek, and what more special could be than to have his wolf as a tattoo on my body? I want to reveal my tattoo when we will take the next step and complete our mate bond. This tattoo will be a symbol of my love and loyalty not only towards him but his wolf as well. Closing my eyes, I think about Jarek tuning out the pain as Madeline starts working on the tattoo. It is not going to be a big tattoo, just a medium-sized one on my nape. But it requires a lot of details, so it will take some time to finish.

I didn't drink last night nor did I smoke anything so why the heck am I seeing things? There was no way in hell the Legendary Killian Greenberg was standing in this room. I'd recognize him even in my dreams. Tan skinned, long black hair he keeps plaited, ears pierced with small earrings, and the tattoos snaking up his arms and neck. This was the real deal. This is the real Killian Greenburg, my hockey hero and nerd 2.0 just called him dad?

"I want you, Jake." “I want you too, Rachel.” She climbed off his lap to finish stripping and his eyes landed everywhere they could. Once she kicked off her jeans and panties, she walked back over to him, and his hands grabbed her hips again, his thumb trailing over a new tattoo that was there. “What’s that?” She pushed her hair behind her ear and blushed. “Just a promise to myself.” It was a rainbow done in only three colors, but there were no clouds and no pot of gold.

Gianna gazed down at her wrist, looking at the small tattoo she got in her teenage years. It was a dandelion, some of the seeds scattered as if blown by the wind, forming a small musical note. Nothing about the drawing was unique, as surely, a lot of women already had the same tattoo as hers now. She had been thinking about erasing it many times over but decided not to. The black ink looked good in her milky skin, but she would rather it stayed hidden.

When I tapped the bell on the lacquered counter, I heard someone from the back immediately start shuffling toward us. “This is a bad idea,” HJ warned from behind me. He stood so close I smelled the mint on his breath. “Then, leave. I don’t need you here if you don’t want to be.” When the tattoo guy rounded the corner, I glanced back at HJ. “Okay, now I really don’t need you here.” He growled at my wink, but my attention was back on the tattoo artist. His greenish eyes popped against the bright green of the walls. Black designs on his neck contrasted with the white collared shirt he wore.

But when the tall, tattooed stranger stepped out of his beat-up truck under the glow of her cruiser lights, something shifted in the air. His name was Jax. Sharp jaw, messy dark hair, piercing green eyes that didn’t look guilty, they looked hungry. The way he leaned against his truck, arms crossed over a tight black t-shirt that showed off his biceps and a broad chest, made her uniform suddenly feel too tight.

Getting this tattoo must have burned like a mother. Zane’s penis lurched out so hard it felt like it was burning too. His hands seemed to find their own way onto Trey’s thighs, stroking the hairy muscles there. He swallowed, more turned on than he knew how to describe. “It’s not complete yet,” Trey said, his voice softened by shyness. “I could only stand to have one color done for the first session. You’ll see the letters more clearly once the green and red are there.” There were letters? Trey’s erection cast a shadow from the light on the end table. Zane pushed his shaft gently to the side so he could see better. He was panting and couldn’t seem to stop. Somehow, he thought Trey would forgi

Karl gets up from the couch and stalks towards him, stopping to cross his arms and lean against the archway. “Nolan says his brother was a member of that gang, and it’s said that the design of their tattoos tells you what rank you were. Doesn’t seem like yours was all that big, I’m guessing you weren’t that big a member then,” he snorts. Harken just narrows his eyes, fed up with the night’s events as is, but lifts his shirt to rip it over his head, revealing the large mixed tribal and Celtic style tattoo that runs from his left wrist up his arm and to his chest, the intricate symbol of the Lewis tribe crest in the middle of his breast, and the large head of a wolf covering his shoulder, wind

Battered hands, inked with tattoos: MAMA on his knuckles, a dove, and more ink disappearing beneath his tank top. Another man chuckles under his breath. “She stays, maybe we talk more,” Green Eyes says. I glance at Angelo. His face is stone. “She’s not payment,” Nate growls, fighting back the urge to stand. “Oh, come on. She’s a gift to the room,” another pipes up. “You sure you don’t want to share?” “Ettiene,” Angelo warns, voice low and lethal. But Green Eyes doesn’t stop. Maybe it’s just me or maybe I’m naive but I didn’t expect this from a man with MAMA tattooed all over his skin. Then again, what do I expect from unethical thugs?

All the waiting people have their eyes cast down except for three. A 5’8” man in an olive green shirt – that looks far too tight for his muscular frame – that shows off a colourful and intricate sleeve tattoo on his left arm, and camouflage pants. His black hair is cropped short to his scalp, he has dark brown eyes, a thick muscular neck, round jaw, square chin and just from looking at him I can tell he’s a cruel man. I can see it in his eyes.