Tattooed Wife Novels & Stories

Olivia asks, running her slender fingers over my tattoo. "Don't you know how to read?" "Stop being boring, Tyler!" Emily says, smiling at both of us. "Okay," I lift Olivia off my back and put her on my lap. "When you were born, you were quite a handful, you know? From the moment you decided to come out of your mother's belly, you were trouble. And as you grew up, you were and still are a little firecracker. Never stopped moving. So, I got this tattoo, patience. Because that's what it takes to take care of you."

He asked, blowing out smoke. “My wife has been kidnapped. I need your help,” I told him. He was my only hope. Most of the gangs come to him when they want a tattoo for their gangs. He would surely know who the fuckers are that took her. He looked at me wide-eyed as I told him everything that had happened. “Show me the tattoo. Maybe I can help.” Richard took out his phone and showed him the tattoo. Tinny’s eyes went wide and his face pale. He looked at me with concern in his eyes. “Are you sure this is the tattoo?” he asked.

- Of course my wife Riley. - Your wife sir? he asked with a strange voice. - Yes my wife, she is working at the company and she is a low-position screenwriter and no we are not allowed to help her in any way. Riley heard him and her eyes were sparkling and she could see that he really listened to her and respected her decisions. - Of course sir. Jack responded. - Thank you, Jack. Riley grabbed his wheelchair and went toward the exit. They sat in the car and at that moment he decided to kiss her.

I replied. "We'll be fine sweetheart!" I said as we still held onto ourselves in tears. ******* I opened my eyes in tears and looked at the mirror. I slowly pulled down the shoulder of my dress as I stared at the tattoo on my shoulder in tears. It was a scar from all the beatings I got from my ex-husband, I tattooed it because the questions were be coming too much and I was tired of lying it was a birthmark, so I decided to get thet tattoo!

“You’re still holding onto this wife thing? Didn’t you say your wife was dead? How can I be your Yasmin if she died in an accident? At some point, you’ve got to admit that losing her is driving you crazy and check into a mental institution.” “You’re right. I might’ve been acting out of turn since she died, but it’s only because I’m convinced she isn’t dead. Now I have proof.” “Proof? What proof do you have that your wife—whose car burned to ashes in an accident—is still alive?” she asked, then immediately groaned. She realized she shouldn’t have asked that, and my smile widened. “Your tattoo. My wife had the same tattoo. What are the odds you have it too? You’re either Yasmin or a long-lost

There, stark against his skin, was a tattoo. A complex, intricate design of two family crests intertwined—the Moretti lion and the Castellano eagle, forever wrapped around each other. He got it on our wedding day. He said it represented the eternal alliance of our families, and our eternal vows to each other. “Aurora,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Do you remember this tattoo?” The cold night wind blew past, whipping a strand of hair across my face. I looked at the tattoo in silence. After a long moment, I reached out.

May glanced at the tattoo peeking out from Stone's shirt collar before continuing her question, "Are you getting a new tattoo?" "Not me," Stone replied as gently as possible. "You are." May immediately shook her head and stepped back. "W-what? I.. I...don't want to." "I'm sorry, May, but this is non-negotiable. All my men have special tattoos on their bodies, and as my wife, you need to have one too." May's eyebrows furrowed in the middle. "What special tattoo are you talking about?" "Show her, Jake," Stone instructed Jacob.

In fact, he once helped her shop and organize everything in the cabinet. “Eat this sandwich,” he said when he returned. She groaned, feeling famished. She took several big bites of the sandwich, finishing it quickly, followed by a swift gulp of the drink he brought. While Wulfric shampooed her hair, his shirt got wet, revealing the tattoo on his side. To her, it was beautiful, yet had a dark, mysterious aura. Her curiosity grew as she stared at the tattoo, a tragedy mask inked on his body. She wondered what had driven her husband to choose such a design.

Just a video attachment and three words: "Encore performance, brother." I knew before I opened it. Some part of me that had been holding its breath for three years suddenly understood why. The video loaded and there was Carter, my husband, in what looked like Marcus's penthouse, with a woman whose face I couldn't see yet. She was bent over the back of a leather couch and he was behind her, one hand fisted in her hair, and I watched for five seconds before I closed it because I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but stare at the frozen frame on the screen. The woman had a tattoo on her shoulder blade. A small bird in flight.

My eyes roamed her beautiful face, a distinct shade of red. "Don't touch me!" She scowled, slapping off my hand when I tried to cradle her face. I understood her devotion to her husband, the imposing blond who had pranced the hall with a huge grin tugging his face. But the need to make her mine was just too overwhelming to ignore. "What is your name?" I mumbled, lust clipped to every word I spoke. The need to touch her all over again became irresistible. "No, I'm married." She shook her head as though trying to wake from all of this. Yet, this became the most pleasant dream I could ever live in. The blue moon tattoo on her back confirms she's all I need to be at peace.