Lock Shock And Barrel Tattoo Novels & Stories

“Do I make you unhappy?” I swallowed, shaking my head. “No,” He kissed me deep and slowly before he pulled me apart, and I rested my head back on his chest, running the tip of my finger through every fascinating masterpiece on his chest. His torso was covered in black and white tattoos, from a Madonna and child on his stomach to a dagger weaving through his collarbone from shoulder to shoulder. A cross on one of his pecs and a rose on the other. A domed church on his side. A lighthouse on his left arm and on his right arm, below his bullet wound, was a familiar tattoo in red. I'd seen it on Savio's arm as well.

He liked that she knew it, too. Then he peeled off his shirt. Uncovering his tattoos. The wolf was fierce, bold, etched in sharp lines, and designed to project strength and danger. Below that, three interlocking rings, a crown, the word South, and a pair of crossed daggers. Subtlety clearly wasn’t his strong suit. Millie reached for the ink almost without thinking, tracing the wolf. And he slid his hands down her body, fingers finding her waist, tugging at her shirt. One swift jerk and it was off.

The first time I was supposed to meet my boyfriend, Grady Cabrera's parents, he stopped me at the door. The reason? His childhood friend, Mallory Pierce, had just drawn a tarot card. According to the reading, I was cursed with bad luck today and shouldn't step foot inside the Cabrera family home. Before I could say a word, Grady reached for the gifts in my hands. "Wait in the car for a while. Once dinner's over, I'll drive you home." I didn't let go. "I've spent over a month getting ready to meet your parents, and you're not even going to let me inside?" His expression hardened. "Brenda, this is for your own good." Before I could protest, he shoved me back into the car and shut the d

It disappears beneath the fabric of the tank top, hinting at a larger tapestry that covers his torso. "What’s that one?" I point to a symbol on his rear deltoid. It looks like a wolf, but abstract, geometric. "Ink," he deadpans. "You don't say. I thought it was a very specific bruise." I lean closer, squinting. "It looks tribal. But not the I got drunk in Cancun kind of tribal. It looks meaningful. Is it a gang thing? A badge of honor for every time you successfully intimidated a client into silence?"

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.”

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

She stood stiffly in the center, arms crossed. Lorenzo closed the door, locking it with a click that echoed too loud. He walked past her, unbuttoning his jacket and shrugging it off. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his strong arm and his dangerous tattoo. It was an eagle's tattoo. He didn’t speak. Just poured a drink from the mini bar, leaned against it, and sipped slowly. Nora stared at his tattoo for a while. Lorenzo never had a tattoo on his arm, only on his back. Did he get one recently? She thought.

He was still out cold, snoring against the stone. "Shh." He put a finger to his cracked, dry lips. He reached a scarred arm through the bars. On the inside of his wrist, there was a tattoo. It was a circle inside a triangle with a wolf’s head in the middle. He tilted it toward me, waiting for me to understand. "Just a rogue with nowhere to go," he rasped. His eyes dropped to my chest. I almost covered myself, thinking he was just another creep, but then I saw it. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the charm on my neck. It was the same thing. The circle. The triangle. The wolf.

I smiled, though my body trembled slightly with unease. He smirked, his eyes darkening as he sauntered towards me. Slowly, he reached out, invading my space. My gaze drifted to his chest, where intricate tattoos sprawled across his skin, half of his left chest completely inked. There was a large python coiled menacingly, its fangs bared as if ready to strike. Surrounding it were other symbols—a bleeding dagger, an intricate skull wrapped in thorns, and a blood moon rising behind them all. The ink seemed almost alive, dark and haunting, like it held secrets too dangerous to reveal. I had seen something like this before. The imagery was disturbing, almost as if he were part of some secretive c

Elian let out a low whistle and didn’t answer my question. "Alright, Sherlock, color me impressed." “But I wasn’t done.” I gestured subtly toward his tattoo. "And the snake? That’s not just a trendy ink job. The way it coils on the back of your hand, if it’s ready to strike anyone in front of you? It’s not for show. People who get tattoos like that usually have a deeper meaning attached. Protection, maybe. A warning. Or a mark of affiliation."