Tales Of The Guns Novels & Stories

'Sorry. In a dim room, Tales, holding a knife, dashed towards an underling with a gun. Bullets whizzed, but Tales dodged them, getting close. The clash of knife meeting gun filled the space, a fierce dance in the low light. Tales aimed for precise strikes, while the underling struggled to keep distance, firing wildly. The room echoed with the clash of metal and gunfire, a tense battle for control.

the first man answered walking away, "How about you? I said gripping him the his shirt "No sir" he replied like someone who had seen a ghost "How about the injured patient that was brought here a while ago by a red ambulance, any ideas on where he was taken? I continued asking still holding his shirt "Hmm, he was taken to the central hospital, it just few blocks from here" he replied releasing himself off my grip, then ran away, I quickly ran to the central hospital there I found Linx, he was in the blood storage room consuming blood as he pleased, he had even killed two nurses with the aim of sucking their bloods

He. stood in his office, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the room. He stared at the collection ofguns displayed in a glass cabinet, each one meticulously cleaned and maintained. These weapons were more than just tools; they were a testament to his journey, each carrying its own history and memories.

Then she jogged upstairs to change clothes to meet Lacey. An hour and twenty minutes later, Layla and Lacey were walking into Tampa Guns and Range. The place was huge. As soon as they walked in, Layla saw guns everywhere — rifles, sniper rifles, shot guns, handguns, AKs, and scopes. The place also had bulletproof vests, sunglasses, crossbows, backpacks, and knives. “Can I help you ladies?” the man behind the glass casing at the end of the room asked. He had a buzz cut, and he was stout in stature.

“Do you want a weapon, Talen?” “No,” Talen shook his head. “I don’t like guns.” Rhett had a gun on his hip, as did Cameron and Heath, Aislen noted. “Do I get a gun?” She wondered. “Do you know how to shoot a gun?” Heath arched an eyebrow. “Point and press?” She guessed. “No. No gun for you,” Cameron grinned and shook his head. “We’ll do some lessons in gun safety, but in the meantime,” he patted his hip. “I’ll be your gun.”

“Lead the way.” His tent was large and private, set back from the others with a thick canvas door. Inside the space was warm and dimly lit by a lantern hanging near the corner, casting everything in a soft golden glow. There was a big sleeping bag laid out like a bed, a small table, and a portable heater humming softly. It smelled like him — woodsmoke, pine, and something deeply masculine. Jake poured two small cups of whiskey and handed me one. We stood close, almost too close. I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

The week goes by quickly, we find ourselves in a routine. I sit working. Emmi has gone out shopping with Zane and Bear, and Gunner holds the baby. As I look over at him, I roll my eyes. “Gunner, daggers away from the baby.” He’s showing Harlem the different daggers, telling him who has died by them. “Also, let’s get the crazy killing people at a low, please. He isn’t even a month old, and you’re already telling him horror stories.” I have to laugh, he is soft and gentle with Harlem, but he still talks to him like Harlem won’t be fucking creeped out when he can understand.

Brenda stared at him as she moved the handle of the gun upward, pushing it hard in quick little strokes against the underside of her clitoris. Each time the gun made contact, she moaned, tugging hard at her nipple, twisting and pulling it between her fingers. "Dan... oh God, Dan..." she breathed hard, her eyes devouring the sight of his hand working over his cock before shifting to the other men stroking themselves, then returning to him again, repeating the pattern. Before she could react, the tattoo artist grabbed the gun, took it from her, and jammed his head between her legs in a single motion.

Danielle screamed as they started shooting at us. "No no no, not my Bugatti" I screamed as two bullets hit my windshield. Thank goodness it's bullet proof. I bought out a double barrel shotgun from my car. I purchased these and a pistol in a gun shop in the US. "Is that a..." "Yes it is" "Do you even know how to fire that" "I wouldn't buy it if I don't know how to fire it. Dating a billionaire with so many enemies is not an easy task" "I agree" "We wait for the reload and then you take the wheels"

Simon remarked, his voice low and steady. Drake's gaze was drawn to the guns, their sleek frames and polished finishes reflecting the dim warehouse lights. Pistols, revolvers, and automatic rifles stood side by side, their barrels glinting with a cold intensity. The sight was both captivating and intimidating, a reminder of the lethal potential these objects held. "Each one has its purpose," Simon explained, his hand gesturing towards the guns. "From self-defense to more... specialized tasks."