Tattooed Wife Novels & Stories

Smoothly. And this… This one hidden thing. The thing I had almost failed to hide from him… He had never mentioned. A husband knows his wife’s skin. The thought arrived cold. He had catalogued my history. My habits. My marriage. My mistakes. He always had an answer waiting. Smooth as poured cream. Yet through all those carefully arranged explanations… Not once had he ever said: You have a tattoo. You got it before the accident. Here’s the story. Which left only two possibilities.

The man beside her suddenly asked, “So, getting this tattoo means it’s a mark of exclusivity, right?” Recalling what she had seen online, Anna’s face reddened. They were already married. The law was more important than the tattoo, wasn’t it? She was already his exclusive wife. But with his possessiveness, she could understand. “Getting the slave tattoo would mean you’re the other person’s property,” she said softly. Lorenzo noticed her flushed face and with a knowing smile, he asked, “So... does that mean you’re my property?”

“Dr. Felix Lewis.” “Felix!” I said, the name tearing out of me. “I know that name.” My mouth opened stupidly, then shut again as if the sound of it had stripped me bare. “Does your husband happen to have a small tattoo of an angel at the nape of his neck? White hair? Big rim glasses?” Stella’s hand flew to her throat. She nodded, almost frantic. “Yes! Yes! That’s him. He got the tattoo when Noarah was born—oh my God—”

He only did it because it was for her, he would never use his dad's name because he hates nepotism. Edna smiles sweetly and runs her hand over his chin and lightly pulls at his cheek. He doesn't smile or frown, he is just looking back at her, tiredly. A little whimper of a child draws their attention off each other and they turn to see. It's a little infant in the hands of a young woman. She is holding the child close to her chest as she hums a song in its ear, trying to calm it. There is a man beside her, he looks a lot older and he is putting on a wedding ring. They are a couple, probably got married a few years ago.

It’s stronger this time and it’s coming from the redhead that is standing only a few feet from me. Her red hair is shoulder length and her pasty white skin is covered with all different kinds of tattoos. Her fingers have a variety of colors all the way up her arms, and her face has multiple tattoos with bright colorful butterfly covering her left eye. It’s beautiful but I bet it was painful to get. “I’ll be right back. Mia can you show you to the game room partner up and I’ll be there shortly,” Tyson says and gives a short nod to his wife and she nods in understanding. They were saying something secretly with their eyes.

" I thought this through. If you agree to do a tattoo with me we still keep the rings. Once the tattoo heals we wear the ring over the tattoo or something like that. The nice part about it is that no one would ask us where are our rings are when they are literally on our skin." " I'm okay with doing anything with you, but is that the only reason why you want our rings tattooed?" I hesitate before saying yes. " Baby please don't lie to me." "I didn't?" It comes out as a question. " you hesitated." " Fine, I've always wanted a matching tattoo with my husband. Killian called me stupid and uncultured to my face when I suggested it when we were married. So I guess it's an insecurity rooted deep.

However, the tattooed man in front of Wynn rolled up his sleeves with a hideous smile and stepped on Wynn's chest while cursing, “Pregnant? Haha, I’ll hit you until you have a miscarriage!” The tattooed man smiled lewdly, walked toward Wynn, and held her white hands. “Didn't you say that your husband won't let us off? I’ve checked into it and found out that your husband is notoriously useless! Hehe, why don’t you scream for him to come and save you then?” Wynn struggled desperately while shouting, “B*stard! Let go of me! You’ll die a miserable death! My husband will never let you go!” Hahaha!

No one knew about it except her or perhaps Kennedy, if he even cared to notice while they had sex. "I may have believed your acting, Misha," Ian growled, his face inches from hers, his eyes burning with a possessive fire. "But with this? There is no fucking way you’re telling me you aren't my wife." "Please, mister," she begged, her voice breaking into a sob. "I am not Misha. I don't know how I got this tattoo of her, I got it myself... I don't know who she is... just let me go. I have a baby to think about..."

He nodded, totally understanding what I was thinking through our connection. As he stood up, I could not help but let my eyes wander over him, pausing at his chiseled abs and then down to his pelvis. Right there in the middle was a thick, four-inch tattoo of an infinity symbol. Mated wolves have this thing where they let anyone who catches a glimpse of their skin below the waist know they have a mate. This tattoo meant a lot. A lump formed in my throat as my eyes began to water. How long had he been dealing with this?

She kept those promises, but with someone else. I grabbed a pair of scissors. Without hesitation, I cut the photo in half and carefully packed my half away. Since I was leaving, I wasn't going to leave even the smallest trace of myself behind. Once everything was done, I placed the signed separation agreement right on the coffee table. We never registered our marriage, but with all our finances mixed together over the years, it felt right to leave something in writing. I picked up my luggage and walked out the door without a single glance back.