Shoulder Blade Tattoos Male Novels & Stories

he said, backing away from me and rubbing his big hand over his face. My eyes fixated on the bright tattoo on his shoulder, the one he got in the army representing his unit. There was another across his hard, defined left pec, a twisting Celtic knot that he had done right after high school. My eyes wanted to drift lower, but first, I had to continue on with my plan. “Indeed!” I said brightly, putting the tray down on the dining room table, after pushing papers to the side. “I don’t have to go to work for a couple of hours,” Aden grumbled, heading back towards the bedroom. “Leave.”

For a minute there, I forgot even to breathe. Collins has a chiseled body and hard abs. He also has a sexy-as-hell black tribal tattoo over one shoulder and down his arm. Collins may have a few more tattoos, but I was worried he saw me drooling and turned away. Hopefully, he was too busy putting the grill together to notice my reaction.

Noah, his ego being too big for his own shoes to acknowledge the possibility of getting his a$$ kicked after all, just smirked at Shaylin and threw the cloth he used for polishing the blades just minutes ago over his shoulder. He wore light blue jeans and only a white cotton ribbed tank on top, his naked shoulders and huge biceps glistening under the slowly setting sun. His tattoos made a contrast to the light, looking like shadows creeping onto Noah's skin, ready to seize his arms from behind and subdue him.

He sits on the working table, hanging both his legs to the floor. He took off his shirt and lift his hand motioned me to come to him. I'm in awe right now, cause he had a great body, and what I observed is, he had a tattoo on his right shoulder muscle. It seems like a round shape with dots and swirling hurricane shape. I can't see that clearly, cause I'm not near to him and besides the light shadow is dominating his right hand. I stand there, contemplating to go to him or not, my face is flushed and becomes red I'm sure. Cause the view in front of me is very hot, hotter than a volcano, and I'm melting in this lava .

Sculpted to perfection. While he is still looking down, my eyes roam over his perfectly tanned skin and every carved-out muscle. I see the two swallow tattoos, one on either side of his neck. His one arm is covered in ink, beautiful images and I wonder what they represent and what story they hold. His shoulders are huge and shredded, and his chest… I swallow… I see the top of his rock-hard abs showing above the counter. And my eyes catch something glistening. Is that… a stud? His left nipple has a piercing. My eyes check his other nipple... nope, just one. Why is that so sexy on him?

He was ripped and it was clearly seen this time as he wore white sand. There were numerous tattoos on his body despite the flying dove. One on his left arm which was a circular design, written in Sanskrit. The other one was visible when he took off the sando to replace it with another one, it was on his upper back that ran down towards his mid-back, an ancient sword. Revealing his front was his buffed chest and sizzling abs, that looked hotter than the global warming. On his right chest was another one, numerous bullets were scattered as one tattoo.

Obsession by Calvin Klein. My hands felt magnetically drawn to reach out, to cup it with my palms, to squeeze each cheek and feel that firm, hard, glorious ass – It took all my willpower to keep my hands by my side and look at the picture on his shoulder blade instead. DAMN. Whoever had done it was one of the best tattoo artists in the world.

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

A second masked man had appeared and had succinctly sneaked up to deliver the blow. Fuck it! Fuck being weak! Before my consciousness went off, I caught sight of the tattoo mark on the shoulder of the second man. His sleeveless arm featured the tattoo of a tiger, a snake and a crown. That insignia was very familiar. But my brain couldn't conjure where I had seen it before. I kept staring at it as my eyes shuttered to a close, just then an image popped up in my mind's eye. Wait….what the actual hell?

And he begins to undress. The jacket first. Folded over a chair because even now his movements are precise. The shirt – button by button, revealing a chest that makes me forget to breathe. Broad, defined, covered in tattoos – black ink across his pectorals, down his ribs, over his shoulders. The tattoos aren’t decorative. They’re stories. Maps of a life lived in the dark. A scar runs from his left hip to his ribs – long, healed silver, the kind that comes from a blade, not a surgeon.