Medusa Tattoos For Men Novels & Stories

When the pain finally eased a little, I opened them again—only to realize Nicholas was shirtless. My eyes lingered on his back. A massive tattoo stretched across it: Medusa, snakes writhing in her hair, her eyes pitch-black. Me: Why do you have that tattoo? He glanced over his shoulder, smiling faintly. Nicholas: You know why. Me: …You were abused? Nicholas: Yep. I bit my lip. I didn’t want to care. I shouldn’t care. But curiosity clawed at me anyway. Me: How? He set two plates down—pancakes stacked high, bacon on the side—and grinned.

“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.

"I want you. I want you inside me." He smirks and takes off his own t-shirt, throwing it aside. He is now completely shirtless, his muscled and toned torso on display. I want to run my tongue over his tats so badly. The Japanese characters on his torso, what do they even mean? I trace the tattoo with my index finger. Mason hisses at the contact.

“I'm Devin.” I shake his hand, smiling still. “Medusa.” Devon raises an eyebrow, “That's your name?” “Yes, do you not like it?” “Er, I do but why Medusa? It's an unusual name for a stripper.” It is, but it's not coincidental or because I like it, neither is the Medusa tattoo but this is the client so I go with a simpler answer. “It's because when you look into my eyes, I turn you rock hard.”

An artist from the wrong side of the river who didn't belong here. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> "A tattoo artist," he said. "That explains the ink. May I?" _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> He gestured to my arm, and I extended it without thinking. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> His fingers wrapped around my wrist, cool and precise, turning my arm to examine the tattoos. A geometric mandala on my inner forearm. Script in Sanskrit along the outer edge. A phoenix rising from ashes near my elbow.

“Well, hello handsome.” “What can I offer you?” the guy asked, ignoring her flirtatious greeting. “Club soda is perfect, thanks.” He nodded. “Jenny?” “Vodka.” “Right,” he said, turning to get the bottles. As he turned, Malvika caught sight of the tattoo on his upper arm. It was an intricate drawing of a snake. “Nice tattoo you’ve got there,” she said casually. He glanced at her, a little bewildered. “Um, thanks, I guess,” he said, hurrying away.

I tried so hard not to flush when I saw his naked torso; it was a sight to behold. Broad wide shoulders with lots of muscles, defined strong abs and on his left pectoral, there was a scary tattoo of a three-headed vicious dog, surrounded by flames. And a lot of scars were all over his abdomen. On his back, there was a full back length tattoo of some sort of grim reaper, angel! His grunts again brought me back from dreamland. I shook my head, clearing it; I gently touched the wounded area on his right, trying to understand what I was dealing with.