Gangster Pitbull Tattoo Designs の小説・ストーリー

Then he walks around the car to slide in behind the wheel. "Nice tattoo you got there ... if one above the ass is a tramp stamp, what is that one called". My eyes rest on the drawing that starts between her breasts and spreads out into a beautiful rose under them. She lets her fingers slide down over the tattoo. "It's a 'I'm a bad ass bitch stamp'" "Well the bitch part fits perfectly". I can't stop staring at her fingers caressing her skin. Damn no doubt she has the upper hand right now. My body is almost unable to contain the desire.

Rough, tattooed men with reputations for taking what they wanted. She’d heard stories about the Iron Wolves gang that hung out at The Rusty Nail, a dive bar on the outskirts of town. Five of them were legends, Jax, the brooding leader with a scar across his cheek; Rocco, the massive Italian with arms like tree trunks; Blaze, the fiery redhead known for his stamina; Diesel, the mechanic with oil-stained hands and a wicked grin; and Thorn, the quiet one with piercing eyes that could undress you from across the room. They were all hung like gods, or so the rumors went. Perfect.

As long as it wouldn't hurt anyone. I got Max's call after a few minutes. Walking away from the men who were mopping the floor, I took the call. “Any news?” “Yes, my alpha. The tattoo belonged to the men of the Scorpion Syndicate. That's their symbol mark. It's of a skull being pierced by an axe and an arrow prodding from its left eye. I can't be wrong about that.” “I see.”

"What the fu-" "The tattoos." I push the mass of doctors away from her and turn my gaze to her ribcage. There are several small tattoos, but each one is easily distinguishable from the others. The first in the line is a wolf's head with a number eight between the eyes. Next is an arrow, a dagger, two crossed arrows, a gun, and a target symbol.

He asked as he breathed out his smoke. I take off my jacket and my shirt to show him my tattoo of the Criemsons. The tattoo shows a blood sword that encircles with vipers and roses that symbolizes our gang or mafia name. I swiveled to indicate my identity while his ladies gape at me like the last cupcake in a bakery they wanted to devour. "Holy mother of great mercy" He grinned. "Now can we converse interaction?" I asked before I put my clothes in and I know his kittens will groan for consuming clothes.

Then she took a good look at his tattoos. Her gaze traced the ink that stretched across his chest, dark and patterned against his golden skin. The tattoo sprawled over his left pectoral, a fierce black wolf, its eyes red and dangerous, as if it could leap off his skin and bare its fangs at her. The details were breathtaking, each strand of fur etched with perfection.

“is just for fun.” Heat climbed up my neck. “And what’s the fun one supposed to mean?” “You’d have to find out for yourself.” His voice dipped low again, and I swore my heart skipped. One of his friends Ryan grin leaned in then, resting an elbow on the table. “You’re not the only one with ink worth showing off,” he said, tugging up his own sleeve. The tattoo was intricate, swirling with roses and blades, like beauty tangled with danger. The other two joined in, each showing me their designs a phoenix across one’s back that peeked over his collar, a serpent winding down another’s arm in precise, dangerous curves.

The guy who is part of the number twenty-seven has a bald head with a scorpion tattoo on his head and a dagger tattoo stabbing his neck with blood drops tattooed red. "This man here, Lucifer, is twenty-seven. He killed that guard without hesitation." The leader of the twenty-eight gang then approached him as they stood up. "Listen, just because you got the number doesn’t mean anything. In here, we run this joint." Lucifer, without hesitation, gripped the plastic fork and stabbed the twenty-eight with the plastic fork into his neck. After stabbing the guy, Lucifer looked around; the inmates looked down as a gesture to say they had not witnessed anything; the twenty-seven then said, "he made h

he suppressed his anger and reprimanded Woody. Ginger looked confused too. She didn't understand why they had to fight each other. Woody said, "This woman is a mole." "What?" Both Gerald and Ginger were dumbstruck. Woody pointed at the bodies on the ground. "All of them have scorpion-shaped tattoos on their bodies. You can have a look." Gerald's men then went up to check. "Mr. Whitlock, there is indeed a tattoo on the bottom of this man's neck. "The tattoo of this killer is on his waist!

Then he gestured his hand towards our back. "I'm Thunder." Then she leaned on the wall. "I'm Boston." I took a glance at the guy who talked to Rhyme earlier. A tattooed man. He shifted his position, then he pointed his shoulder. He shoved his black shirt to show me his BRIT tattoo, the fifth that I saw in his skin based on my quick count as I scanned his arms. I was stunned after realizing that Rhyme also had that on his wrist. But the guy named Boston had it in his right arm and it was bigger. I nodded to myself.