Steve O Knuckle Tattoo Novels & Stories

My name is Ivy. Tonight I’m half-naked on Knox’s tattoo table, shirt and bra shoved up to my neck, lying on my left side so he can start the huge blackwork piece that will crawl from under my breast, down my ribs, and over my hip bone. The shop is locked, lights low, just the buzz of the machine and the low throb of music in the background. Knox is six-three of pure inked muscle, sleeves of dark art, silver rings in his nipples you can see through his thin black tank, and a reputation for being a complete asshole unless you’re on his table. Then he’s worse.

The sneakers, the dark leggings, the headband, it all put it together, and I looked more masculine than I have ever. I slowly walked out to Knox. He had changed into fitted tanks, one that stretched over the taut muscles on his chest and accentuated the lean ridges of his stomach. He had a single, tiny star tattoo on his collarbone, one that the tanktop was not hiding much. He was wearing shorts instead, his hair pulled back. "Here I am," I said, opening my arms, my eyes looking up to his.

But the way Knives looked at me, you would think he just won the jackpot. “Sweetheart,” he groaned, his whiskey voice making me shiver in delight. “Your wish is my command...” He stood and, without hesitating, he took off his T-shirt. And for once, I didn’t look away, but instead, I took in everything he had to offer. His tattoos were gorgeous. Most of them were skulls, knives, and motorcycles, but I also liked the angles and the roses. They all melted together and perfectly led from one act to the next, telling the story of a boy who became an MC VP. And of course, the centerpiece was the snarling wolf and the moon, with the name of his club.

He pointed to his tattoos as he spoke. 'This is a tribute to Adrian," he said. He pointed at the tattoo that sat on the left side of his body just below his shoulder blade. It was the name Luca with a halo above it with angle wings on either side of it. Underneath it said, 'I am because you were'. "That's beautiful," I mumbled as I stood up and walked closer to him to get a closer look. "This is for Blade." On his arm was a dagger. The blade was cut in half and the word

The class murmured in surprise. “He’s never done that before.” someone behind me said, but my mind was abuzz as my eyes locked onto his left forearm. There, whilst mostly hidden underneath the black turtleneck was a tattoo. A tattoo of a snake. My pulse raced. It was unmistakable. The same intricate design I had seen on the mystery man’s arm during our private video call last night. The same dark ink that had been visible when he stroked his cock for me. No. No way. It couldn't be.

He nudged the unconscious man, pushing him to his stomach and just as expected, a black moon tattoo was carved onto the skin of his neck. A Darkmooner “Blow the horn”

The love of my life. Silvy The day after Goof proposed and claimed me he took me to Tank's tattoo shop to get my mark. Was I nervous? Hell yes. I was nervous about the entire process. Tank, bless the gentle giant, let me bring Ant in with us. Ant was a hit at the shop. I was a little worried the receptionist might not give him back. It took Tank forty five minutes to finish the work on my shoulder. According to Goof that is the least sexy part of my body. Did it burn? Sure. But not as bad as I thought it would be. I wanted to see what it looked like. Tank stood me in front of his mirror. It was amazing. It looked my the Renegades emblem with a motorcycle driving through the middle of it. A

It was so fucking frustrating! “I need answers,” I said, and three sets of jaws clenched shut. “Fine. Then go fuck yourselves.” I stood and headed for the door. I’d given them an out. If they got killed now, it was their own damn fault. I reached for the doorknob and paused, staring at my hand. The tattoo. I turned around. If they insisted on trying to protect me, they would need all the help they could get. Lifting my hand, I pointed to the spot between my thumb and forefinger. “The guy last night had a tattoo right here. It was all black ink. A stylized V with an ouroboros around it. I’ve never seen it before. I’m not sure—”

My uncles Craig and Montero are covered in all kinds of scars, and I’ve watched Aunt Natalya stitch up some of the gnarliest of injuries, so I’m used to seeing these sorts of things. The next man is large. Huge like a mountain and wide like a fucking bulldozer. Tattoos crawl up the side of his neck, his arms, all the way down to his knuckles sporting fat gold rings. I can tell in an instant his jewelry isn’t a fashion statement. These rings are meant to hurt. Instead of brass knuckles, they’d be a perfect substitute.

"I'll be enjoying every moment of it." My cheeks are steaming red and glancing over at Galina, she is also blushing with her gaze downcast. She proffers me her hand and I wordlessly take it as I'm burning with fury inside over the dastard. My eyes catch sight of the tattoo on his muscled upper arm. The black ink of the Christian Cross encircled by a fierce Dragon, made a dramatic striking contrast against his fair skin. Some girls would think it was bad of a guy, however, to me it was bad news about a guy.