The Tattooist
- Reads 138,552
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- Parts 9
MatureOngoing1h 6m
Last published Sat, Aug 5, 2017
"I came to get a tattoo."
His eyes narrowed dangerously as he stared down on me, his fist clenched over his chest. I felt vulnerable under his blazing gaze.
I awkwardly shifted on my feet. His 6,1 form dominating the room. The t-shirt he was wearing didn't do much to hide his well build body. Tattoos rolling down his arms and neck, disappearing behind his shirt. I couldn't help but stare in awe.
"No"
No? I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it when no words came out. His intense gaze didn't break, I wanted to run.
I shouldn't have come.
His form grew larger as he stepped closer. I tried to swallow down my anxiety, but it only grew with every stride he took. He stopped right in front of me. It took all my power to stand my ground, to not stagger away from him like a deer.
"You are not getting a tattoo." The coldness of his blue eyes only intensified.
Next this I knew a hand grasped my waist and pulled me into a stone chest. I gasped in surprise. Before I could squeal in protest he already had me pushed up against the wall, one arm circled around my torso while the other rested on the wall beside my head. My body shook in fear, adrenaline coursing through my veins as he leaned in closer.
What was he doing. Was he going to hurt me? I'm sure he could crush my skull with his bare hands. I turned my face to the side, looking away from him, not wanting to see the satisfying look in his eyes when he hurts me.
I awaited the pain, but it never came. Instead my cheek tickled with the breeze of his warm breath, his lips touched my ear. I squeezed my eyes shut as I anxiously waited for his next move.
"If I see your body-" I gulped, his eyes boring into mine,
"- tainted-" his voice was raspy and painfully low as his palm caressed my cheek, trailing down my neck until it fell on the curve of my sides.
"-in any way-" it almost sounded like a growl,
"I will kill the person who did it"
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When love hurts you when there is betrayal and revenge, The heart, once tender, now bleeds with bitter ache, Yet through the storm of sorrow, strength you shall find, And from the ashes of pain, your spirit will rise anew. --------------- He held my hand gently, his touch was so gentle and firm. His other hand snaked around my waist, in a slow, torturous, yet blissful movement, and he swirled me in a graceful dance motion. The room spun around me, but then he let go, and I stumbled, my balance lost. In an instant, he yanked me back towards him, and I bumped hard into his chest, the impact taking my breath away. As I looked down, trying to steady myself, he lifted my chin with his two fingers, making me look into his eyes. The back of his fingers trailed from my neck to my cheek, turning my legs to nothing but a jelly. His gaze was so intense, and instantly the gentle emotions were gone, replaced by his standard emotion, rage. His eyes blazed with an almost frightening intensity. He swirled me harshly again, the movement abrupt and forceful. Then, he bent me backward on his arm, my body arching under his control. He drew his face closer until I could feel his warm breath against my skin. We were so close that I could see the fine lines around his eyes, the slight stubble on his jaw. A soft pink color of his lips were adding a touch of warmth to his face. His eyes bore into mine with deep intensity. Just when I thought he might kiss me, his expressions became colder and he made me stand upright, leaving me disoriented and confused. I was looking at him and he was looking straight ahead.
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