Shoulder Blade Tattoos Male Novels & Stories

Mark was slightly taller than I and was a hundred and ninety pounds of rock solid muscle, his shoulders were wide and his waist narrow, he was not muscle bound, but there was not a damn thing on him that was not exactly where it should be including a set of abs that would make a twenty year old jealous. Mark, like me in a sleeveless shirt caught a bit of attention. Both of his arms shoulder to elbow were covered in enormous tattoo's, on the right was Pan the Celtic devil; horns, hooves and red eyes glaring, on the left was an incredibly detailed image of the Pale rider of revelations fame. With his build, the tats and his five o clock shadow Mark was flaunting the "Bad Boy" look and carried

He looked at me as though I was faking my feelings. “Are you done with your drama? Or whatever the fuck that is?” he smirked, “you’ve ruined the fun” he retorted, standing up straight and pulling both his sleeve higher up his arm, his arms were covered with tattoos, these are new? The last time I saw Mateo he had just one, his mother’s name on his left shoulder. Every pattern of his tattoos was unique, there was a phoenix on his left arm, but it was bathed in blood, what could be the story behind that I wondered.

– He declared, letting go of my wrist, passing his thumb over his mouth, my eyes fixed on that man with a broad, defined chest, with a pecs designed as if he had been sculpted. On his neck he had a tattoo of a dragon that released a blue-green flame from its mouth.

His legs are strong and well defined with muscles. Then my eyes reach his crotch and the very obvious tent there, and it's huge! Is it larger than an average human male? It is certainly larger than Jason. Can that even fit? I tear my eyes away from THAT and they wander over well defined abs with a light blue hair that goes from his underwear and up his chest, that has an even, and very sexy, amount of hair covering it. I can see a scar going down from his left shoulder and ending about halfway down his left pectoral. There is also a small scar on the right side of his thorax.

My God. The candlelight plays across his chest, illuminating a canvas of ink and muscle that makes my mouth go dry. His shoulders are broad enough to block out the rest of the room, tapering down to a waist that speaks of discipline and control. But it's the tattoos that steal my breath— intricate Russian script wrapping around his ribs, disappearing beneath the towel's edge. A hawk spreads its wings across his left pectoral, feathers so detailed I can almost feel them beneath my fingertips. His abs aren't the gym-sculpted perfection Viktor obsesses over. These are working muscles, carved from something harder than vanity. A scar cuts through the ink near his hip— pale against bronze skin— a

But God forgive me, Blake Luca is the definition of ‘A man made in sinful flesh…’ tall and broad-shouldered, his body carved like he’d spent every minute of his life lifting heavy dumbbells in the gym. He wears a tight white shirt that shows off his hard chest, the sleeves rolled up to expose thick, veiny forearms. His black pants cling to his strong thighs, and the heavy bulge pressing against the fabric between his legs is impossible to miss. A massive dragon tattoo curls up his right arm, its dark scales etched in black and red. The beast’s snarling head disappears beneath his collar, right at the base of his thick neck. And his face—God! This man is a beautiful sin.

Ash let out a long breath and then turned to face forward. He stayed quiet for a long while, making me very uneasy. “Tell me about your tattoo?” I asked, hoping the light topic will change his mood. “What tattoo?” He asked drily. I touched his left shoulder, “the one you have here.” He looked at my hand on his shoulder, “it’s a tribal mark. I got it after the initiation.” “Is it supposed to show that you are a man? Was the bear not enough to attest to your manhood?” I joked.

My pulse thundered as I glared at him, my breath coming fast. “You bastard!” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. My breath caught as he pulled it off and tossed it aside without a care, revealing a body that looked like it was sculpted from stone. My gaze landed on a tattoo stretching from his back to his shoulder, winding down his left arm in bold black ink. His chest was strong and well-built, his broad shoulders lined with network of veins and muscles. He leaned closer, his golden eyes holding mine, daring me to look away.

BLADE 2. He forced his tongue into my mouth and pinned my two hands roughly on the bed. He doesn't allow me move. I wiggled my body but he ended up hitting my boobs with his palm. The pain sent the wrong sensation down my pussy. It throbbed shamelessly. He stopped kissing me and before I knew it, I landed a slap on his cheek which I regret doing. His demeanor changed instantly. I presume it didn't sit well with him.

They played for a bit she sighed dreamily as the Carson, Matthew, and Chuck took off their shirts, a few minutes later Leon, John, William and Blake followed suit, and she couldn't help but smile as she noticed that Carson and Blake had similar eagle’s tattoos on their left shoulders. But she also noticed the black jaguar that ran mid-back on Blake and the lion on Carson.