Outer Banks Tattoo Novels & Stories

She slowly started walking her fingers across my chest and tracing my tattoos. “I like these.” She said as she continued to trace them. I had the wilderness I love tattooed across my chest and arms. Bear, deer, birds, owls, rabbits, badgers and of course wolves all amongst the trees and forest that they lived in. “Oh yeah. What is your favorite?” I asked lightly.

“Grandmother despises schemers. When she finds out you’re the reason I lost my inheritance, she will make you pay. I promise you that.” “I’m the reason?” I scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from you.” “At least I have true Moretti blood in my veins!” Dante suddenly thrashed, trying to get up. “You’re nothing! You’re just a cheap—” His words were cut short. In his violent struggle, he tore the sleeve of his hospital gown. I saw it then—a black tattoo on his forearm. The design was distinctive: a double-headed eagle with Cyrillic letters beneath it. My heart skipped a beat. That was a Bratva tattoo. The mark of the Russian mob.

I turn to study her, and once again our eyes lock on the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the destroyed walls. Are these two, mates? They must be. The omega is in heat. But her scent is weak. Alpha is meeting her needs. His neck, however, leaves no mark. There's a dark rectangular symbol, an Outsider tattoo, but no sign of his dog's teeth. He still hasn't tagged her. She's still unclaimed and her heat is calling to me, sending my body into a rut. It's clouding my judgment as my blood is redirected from my brain to my hardened cock. "Orchid!" a voice growls from below.

Adom quickly looked away and flushed even more. "Come on, let's teach you some other techniques." Sebestian chuckled and caressed his even bigger belly now. Adom leaned into him, and Sebestian handed him the gun back. Adom had gifted him this one; he even let Adom's name be engraved into it. He had never thought he would be happy having a gun. It was sleek black with a few golden details.

Tattoos are usually an expression of oneself. She hesitates for a moment; I can see the turmoil in her eyes but eventually she nods. CJ comes closer to me and turns around. I grab the back of the tank top and lift it over her head while her arms are crossed in her front. The realistic tattoo is a full-colored piece with an intricate golden bird cage in the center with a wolf’s head howling at the moon, an owl with its wings open, and portraits of a bear, fox and mouse intermingled with beautiful wildflowers. I run my fingers over the tattoo. Tingles touch my fingertips sending pleasure through me, but what gets me more are the scars I feel and not just a few but many scars. Now that I think

“I’m worshipping. There’s a difference.” Kai’s breath hitched as Damien’s thumb dragged over the phoenix’s head, right above his left nipple. The tattoo was intricate—flames curling in shades of red, orange, and deep black ink that seemed to flicker in the low light. It stretched from just below his collarbones down to the bottom of his ribs, wings wrapping around his sides. Geometric patterns from his full sleeves connected to it, making the entire piece feel alive on his lean-muscled swimmer’s build.

“You got another tattoo??” Em didn’t like the way he said it. Quinn was covered in tattoos. He had a huge wolf on his shoulder, several arrows and symbols all over his arms and chest and neck. He had a huge tattoo on his back that reminded her of their town. It was a lake and a mountain surrounded by trees. She thought it was beautiful, even though she had never seen it up close.

As in steaming-mounth-watering-panty dropping eyes popping out of my head-hot. Ryder's tattoos are on display. The viper wrapping itself around his right forearm is detailed and absolutely stunning. I can't see the word I know is tattooed above his right knee. Nor do I see the same word under Jem's collar bone when his back is too me. I absently trace the word on the left side of my ribcage the "A" starting right where my breast ends. My fingers pass over the cursive and four stars spread out around the letters. I was the only one who got the stars the others complaining it was too feminine for them. Huffing out a breath I take the last steps and head to the kitchen isle slipping onto a bars

It was a testament to his unwavering dedication to all aspects of his physical fitness. One of the most striking features on Logan's left arm was the anchor tattoo, a symbol known to represent strength and stability, perhaps even serving as a connection to his time in the marine. Yet, what made this tattoo particularly intriguing was an unexpected addition. Just below the anchor, a smaller, seemingly incongruous tattoo came into view. This tattoo was a depiction of a little girl holding a toy, a charming but puzzling image etched onto his skin. It seemed to tell a story of its own, one that didn't readily align with the symbolism of the anchor.

He took the hint and sucked hard, ensuring it was a definitive mark that no one could miss. Keeping Tasha behind him, Onyx opened the door. Whatever he’d been expecting to find outside, it hadn’t been the rebels. “We thought you might want to know,” began one of them, “someone vandalized the tattoo shop where your mate works last night.”