Ryan Ashley Malarkey Tattoos Novels & Stories

It’s now a white dove, wings out, soaring. “It’s a symbol of freedom, peace, purity, and hope, because you are all those things, Ashley, and I never want you to forget that.” Jackson unwraps the bandage on the inside of his wrist. He’d gotten a tattoo a few days ago. He’d told me he’d show me later, refusing to let me have a peek. My gaze flies to the spot where his own brand was. Now there's a dove, double the size of mine, but in his, in bright blue letters, right in the middle, he has the word Ashley written in a pretty font. My gaze connects to his, and I burst into tears.

Aarya “Wow! It’s exquisite!” I marveled at the stunning neck tattoo that adorned my best friend Lea’s skin. My fingers traced the lines of the intricate design as I asked her, “I want one too, but I’m such a wimp thinking about the pain. Did it hurt?” Nestled at the base of her neck, where the curve of her neck met her shoulder, was a beautifully detailed wolf outline tattoo. Below the tattoo were Steven's initials, symbolizing their connection. It looks amazing.

I muttered, averting my gaze as he pulled off his drenched T-shirt, standing in just his low hanging track pants. His curly hair was tied in a bun and the way his body and muscles flexed and bunched as he took deep breaths was almost disorienting. There were so many tattoos on his body and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious to touch them and explore what they all meant. “Twenty-one,” Asher said, pouring himself a glass of water. “What?” I frowned. “I have twenty-one tatoos on my body,” he said, flopping down in front of me. And way too close for my liking. “My birthday falls on twenty-first so,”

They were just giving each other a high five; Ash felt relieved. The man introduced himself to Ash as “Fernan.” He was their driver. Ash glanced at his hands and saw that he had tattoos on his knuckles: hearts, diamonds, clubs, spades. The tattoos were all in black: the symbols for the suits in a deck of cards. This man was built like an MMA fighter and he had casino tattoos on his knuckles; he seemed physically overqualified to just be a driver. Ash thought Fernan likely provided security as well. Ash smiled and introduced herself; she didn’t want to be rude. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to or if that was considered tacky, but Hunter didn’t say anything and didn’t seem to mind.

Her mind is all occupied by the tattoo and how crazy this whole situation is. “What do you want?” Hector asked when she kept staring at the menu card and the waiter was patiently waiting for them. “Mushroom risotto,” she said. “Thank you,” the waiter gave a smile and left the place. “Your tattoo is nice,” Ashley said. “Thanks, I got it when I was twenty. My close compelled me to get this,” he said and he soon covered it rolling down his sleeves. “This is more like a date to me, what do you think?” Hector asked.

he asked as he checked his tattoo machine. “Permanent,” Yash replied. “Of what you want a tattoo of and where do you want me to crave it? Sir?” The tattoo artist asked Yash. “On my backbone,” Yash replied as he took off his shirt and lay down. “Are you sure? Backbone tattoos hurt the most,” He informed Yash, but all Yash needed right then was pain; only pain could tackle his pain into not killing himself, he needed to be alive and only another pain could help him.

Is he naturally built like this? Asher steps backward to give me the full picture. I see stars on his knees that match his shoulders. He twists, showing the rugged expanse of his back. I was right: it’s a church inscribed over his shoulder blades and spine. It’s lovely, but above it is the terrifying image of a spider. “Layla told me about the tattoos in the Bratva,” I say. Inching off the desk, I approach him. He remains where he is, watching me over his shoulder. My hand touches one of the stars. “What do these all mean?”

James snapped sarcastically as Ash looked at him in annoyance. "Well it would make more sense then the fucking weird eye and rose design you decided on like some player." Ash responded. "Oh sorry I didn't go with the manly tribal tattoos and the lone wolf depictions that you favoured and found more useful." "Useful? You couldn't be useful if you tried. If you were a teapot you'd be a fucking chocolate teapot." Ash shot back. "This is all your fucking fault, why did you want us to run?" he added. "We could of stayed and come up with a plan."

"Say it, baby. Come on." I can no longer speak. All I can do is act. I turn my head to the side, exposing the place where my neck and shoulder meet and Asher’s eyes darken as Thor brings himself forward. "Mine!" He says. His voice now a combination of his own and his wolf. Asher leans down and he pumps himself into me harder and harder. I feel my orgasm ripping through my body at the same time Asher sinks his fangs into my neck, marking me as his.