Tony Stark Haircut Novels & Stories

Pretend you don't care and move on to the next customer. Five minutes later, Tony walked into the coffee shop. I was only able to notice because his figure towered above everyone else's and cast dark foreboding shadows on the counter where I stood. Goosebumps erupted on my skin. I shivered visibly and swallowed hard. I'd thought he wouldn't be here until I had to leave. I'd made sure of that. How come? Why did his stalker schedule change all of a sudden? Tony was 6 '7, quite hunky, with logs of wood for arms and legs. When he smiled, no, when he sneered, he exposed the most beautiful set of teeth you'd ever seen. His gray eyes made him look like a psycho god, but a psycho nonetheless.

Juicy tried to hide her pleasure. "Sure, anything, Troy." "Well, since you do hair, I could really use a haircut." "You want me to cut your hair? Sure. Did you want a perm or maybe highlights-?" He was shaking his head. "Just a hair cut."

He placed his phone aside and reached for a cigarette, about to light it when something occurred to him, freezing his movement. With a rustle, the bathroom door opened. Tony emerged, wearing a white silk robe, while drying his hair. As he walked, he ran a towel over his hair. The robe's collar was open, revealing a broad expanse of fair chest. His ink-black hair cascaded over his shoulders, dripping with water droplets. His exquisitely handsome face, slightly flushed from the steam, carried a hint of allure. The originally features now added a touch of sex appeal. What a sight of a handsome man after a bath.

I had reached 148 pounds and it did not sit well on a 5'4" frame. The picture was not bad, even with shorts and a sleeveless top, but I wanted to be honest. The long dark hair with those silly childlike bangs caused me to grimace a bit. 'Short hair would have made me look thinner,' I thought. Tony was of Italian background and he looked great in his picture. Very muscular, short black hair, combed straight back, no smile, but inviting eyes- brown like mine. He had said he was short, but I couldn't tell from the picture. I decided he looked like a nice person I had a good feeling about this one. I trusted him enough to give him my work number and he called me shortly thereafter. I was even mo

He shut up. I took my hands to her hair, pulling the locks to the front of her shoulders. They were beautiful, silky, but they needed a cut. His strong face didn't match that hair size very well. He would be identical to a Hollywood star if the dark strands were at most to the back of the neck, besides that it would already be too much.

Stanley Batton was already seated inside. Dressed in a black oversized shirt and matching black leisure pants, there was a hint of laziness to his calm and composed appearance. His usual hairstyle of segmenting his hair into two disproportionate sections was changed to a loosely brushed-back style today. It made him look very cool and pleasant to the eyes. Right then, he had his head lowered as he flipped through the black leather menu with his long and elegant fingers. He was moving neither hastily nor too slowly, which perfectly embodied elegance and nobility.

“Hey. You. Honestly. Do you really think I’d let anything happen to you?” He grinned, and I grinned back. “Okay, pretty girl. Make me a star.” It wasn’t hard. A bottle of vibrantly red hair dye, a few white streaks here and there, and a haircut later, Reed Taylor was exactly my kind of man. “I love it,” I said and sat on his lap. “You’re perfect.” “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said and ran his hand down my newly black hair. “Seriously, these blue tips rock! Who would have thought a little hair stuff could make such a big difference?”

“Okay. I should have guessed. Well from now on, you will be using them. We’ll have you looking like a young Ben Affleck in no time.” “I quite like Chris Hemsworth’s hair.” Scott is quickly ushered to the sinks where he has his hair washed by a sixteen year old with an approach to shampooing like a WWE wrestler. After pounding his head for five minutes, she proceeds to give him an ‘Indian Head Massage’ using slow and rhythmic movements with a semi-pornographic expression on her face. Scott is then escorted to the mirror and Anna begins her work. It takes forty five minutes and some of the most extravagant scissor action I’ve ever seen, but the results are impressive.

He was used to being publicly owned, always on show, and every woman’s idea of a fantasy male. Which guy wouldn’t? Women falling at your feet every day. Hell yeah. He rubbed it through his hair expertly and spiked it up toward the center and forward in its trademark style. He was never really one for much fussing over his hair, this kept it sorted and then he never had to care for the rest of the day or mess with it unless he ran his hands through and mussed it up. If he had his way, he would shave it all off, but he had done that in his teens and he had just looked like a menacing street thug and was met with serious glares from Mamma Carrero.

But he…Stephan shook his head. Stephan again ran his eyes over Tony, who was walking ahead of them, showing the way to the event hall. He noticed his long brown hair, which was tied, an unhealthy pallor over his thin oval face, pale pink lips, and a skinny build. There was zero attractiveness about the guy. The only eye-catching feature of his was his pair of exquisite almond eyes. They were big, with long, dense black eyelashes under thick bushy eyebrows. When the light fell on his eyes, it appeared to be glowing. They were very pretty indeed. His sexual experience with Omegas has been extremely satisfying. Whether guy or girl, their body just seemed to be begging for a f*ck. He couldn't he