Short Spiky Black Hair Novels & Stories

Obviously, he looks masculine whereas I am clearly female. Oh, and his lips are not "fat" like mine. Not at all. They're manly, though. I don't know how else to describe them than that! His hair is where the similarities end, though. While mine is black, his is a dirty blonde. He keeps it short, with an unruly, scraggly "style". I swear he just hops out of bed and it's already perfect every morning. Like a god damn movie star. (I usually spend at least half an hour on my own hair.)

I said. Briana was jumping with excitement. Briana and I had similar hair, black curls. I had kept my hair shoulder length for years, while Briana had hair down to her back. She had been wanting to cut it short for years, but it looked so beautiful. I know the hair was getting in the way when she was training and she hated getting her hair combed.

"You are a literary inspiration." "Thank you," I said, smiling as I held her at arm's length. "Wow, you got such lovely hair," I couldn't help complimenting the richness and length of it. It was black, shiny, and abnormally long. When I say abnormally, I mean it reached right below her knees, and did I mention the girl is taller than me, even with the heels? It's so lush and shiny and long.

I am coming my love, I am coming for you. I call in the servants and ask them to help me cut my hairs. Like I said, it’s been so long since I had a decent haircut. As the boy cuts my hairs, I notice the dark black strands that bounce off my shoulder and finally land on the ground. Catty was right, I had the same hair colour as hers. Raven black. I whisper smiling.

He was that scary. He wore a black top that stretched taut on him, as if trying to accommodate all those solid muscles he was packing, and a pair of black pants that extended to his ankles. His hair was in spikes—like he'd been running his hand through it a lot—barely touching his nape. His beard was what really gave him the caveman look. It was overgrown and covered almost all his lower face.

Even with the baggy hoody, I can see the bulge of his chest and arms. His ivory skin compliments his blond hair, which is long and wavy. But not too long. Cut just right. And the roots are brown. Is that fake? No, it's real. I had to dye my black and straight hair once, and I would know. His sharp nose rests between two grey eyes. The color of concrete.

The simple yet stylish choice of attire hinted at a certain casual sophistication, a trait she couldn't help but admire. His jet black hair, still damp from a recent shower, framed his face in a way that added an alluring touch to his overall appearance. The dark strands seemed to glisten under the soft glow of the room's lighting, creating an almost ethereal effect. Veronica couldn't help but notice the subtle contrast between the wet and dry portions of his hair, a detail that heightened his innate charm.

The voice ignored his outstretched arms as she shuffled into the frame. She was gorgeous. A tiny little thing, especially compared to the beast that was pouting a few inches away. Her hair was a messy mane of curly ringlets. From the darkest shade of black to a glistening color of grayish lavender, her thick locks tumbled past her shoulders to her mid back. Her eyes were round, an adorable doe like appearance as they gleamed gorgeous shade of hazel. Dark, honey bronze skin colored her slender curves, a gentle pink flush peppering her plump cheeks.

“Not all men are abusive assholes. Don’t give up on the rest of us.” He had been so tender and gentle. Something that she was not expecting from a man like him. He was muscular like Reese, but several inches shorter and less bulky. His long black hair was shaved on the sides and braided down to his mid back. When he spoke with that deep baritone, you could vaguely glimpse a silver tongue piercing.