Marco Reus Haircut Novels & Stories

"Hmm, okay. But Daddy and I still need to do something, alright? Go lie down in bed first and wait for me, okay?" She nodded happily and went to lie on the bed. When I turned back to Marco, he was already bowing his head again. I gently lifted his chin, kissed him softly on the lips, and gave him a small smile before handing him the scissors and razor once more. "Come on, babe. Maxien will stay up late if we don’t hurry," I said as I gently rubbed his shoulder. I knew he was only doing this because I asked—but he had no choice. He let out a deep sigh before starting to cut my hair.

Tate led the pack, his 6’3” frame dwarfing the aisles, his letterman jacket straining over shoulders carved from marble. His dirty-blond hair was tousled, as if he’d just rolled out of some sorority girl’s bed—which, given his reputation, he probably had. Behind him, the Sigma Rho council followed like a pantheon of depravity: Marcus “The Curve” Delgado, 6’2”, with dark, piercing eyes that could strip a girl bare from across a room, his cock rumored to bend at a perfect 45-degree angle, designed to ruin G-spots.