Mick: My Curvy Girl Read online

  Mick

  My Curvy Girl

  Nicky Fox

  Mick

  By Nicky Fox

  Copyright © 2019 by Nicky Fox All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Designer: Golden Czermak with FuriousFotog

  Editor: Karen McVino with Express Editing

  Proofreader: Jenn Wood

  Created with Vellum

  For Barret

  Contents

  1. Maggie

  2. Mick

  3. Maggie

  4. Mick

  5. Maggie

  6. Mick

  7. Maggie

  8. Mick

  9. Maggie

  10. Mick

  11. Maggie

  12. Mick

  13. Maggie

  14. Mick

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Check out these other books

  ~Books by Nicky Fox~

  About the Author

  Nicky’s Socials:

  1

  Maggie

  “I’m going for a donut run. Do you want anything?” I ask my assistant, Barret, as I finish sweeping around my station at Shear-Lock Combs, the hair salon I own.

  “I don’t see how you can eat that shit and have curves in all the right places.” He sweeps his hands down, mimicking an hourglass shape, then juts out his hip and rests his palm there with his mannerisms of exaggerated hand gestures. His tall stature, light brown hair, dark brown eyes, and lean frame do nothing to hide his feminine side.

  Barret. My assistant. My bestie. My spirit animal. He just happens to bat for the other team and we often crush on the same gorgeous guys. I love him, he’s like a brother to me. Needless to say, sometimes he annoys the shit out of me. But he’s the only man who totally gets me. I’m a Cumberbitch and so is Barret.

  After graduating from cosmetology school four years ago, we decided to open a salon together. We both loved the new Sherlock Holmes BBC series and everything just fell into place. I had some money saved from working three jobs during school. I found a great salon space in an up-and-coming area in downtown Plano for a reasonable price, so I snatched it up. Barret followed me and supported my every move.

  “It’s in the genes, babe. What can I say?” I’m your typical curvy girl.

  Luckily, a few of my clients have become some of my best friends. Lenora and Evie were regulars that are now my girls. Growing up, I never really had friends and was a bit of a loner. Most of the girls from my senior year were catty and I steered clear. With my huge breasts, ample hips, and dark red hair that touched my butt, girls treated me like a virus. Maybe pure hatred or maybe pure jealousy. I didn’t know, but I could tell guys were into me. Some of the jocks on the football team dug my curves but they felt they had to date the cheerleaders. It was their loss. I never let any of their shade hit my sun. That was their problem, not mine. Plus, it’s made me the confident, albeit weird, woman I am today. I wouldn’t change a thing from my past, not even the bad.

  “So that’s a no on the donut?” I dump the hair I’ve swept up into the trash bin as Barret watches me from the checkout counter.

  “Yeah, babe. That’s a big no for me. I need to keep this figure banging so I can keep banging the hotties. Speaking of hotties . . . there’s that new delivery guy I’ve had my eye on. Holy hell, he’s gorgeous. My gaydar goes off every time he’s near. I’m thinking about asking him out today.”

  His eyebrows rise up and down, and I giggle at him. He gets way more action than I do. My only boyfriend is B.O.B., as in battery-operated boyfriend. Yes, my vibrator and I are in a committed relationship. It’s been an ongoing thing for a year now. That’s my longest relationship to date. Now, Barret is trying to move on our new delivery guy. This courier won’t know what hit him.

  “Okay, I’m out to go satisfy my mouth. I’ll be back in ten.” I grab my wallet from under the counter and push open the industrial glass door. This is such a cool urban area. I’m so glad I found this place. Although there have been some break-ins around the complex that have driven traffic out of this neighborhood a bit, it’s an area that’s still trying to beautify and prosper. I have all the confidence it will.

  While there have been a few hiccups in the business because of the dive in consumers, I still have dedicated clients like Lenora and Evie. Barret also has his own solid base, mostly comprised of his gay friends and old ladies. The old women love Barret. They’re always trying to set him up with their granddaughters. It’s hilarious watching him try to not offend the women. I stay late some days, just to watch him politely decline their efforts. He takes it all in stride though.

  Feeling my cell phone vibrate against my hip, I pull it out of my pocket and answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, chicka!” Evie nearly shouts. She just recently got into a relationship with Lenora’s brother-in-law. Lenora is already happily married with a baby girl. Both women are in great committed relationships. I’m envious of the hot sex they talk about in the salon. However, I’m not really looking for a relationship with a guy as I’m more of a “love ‘em and leave ‘em” girl. I do need some lovin’ in the worst way. It’s been a bit of a drought for me this year.

  “Hey, Evie. How’s the vagina? Cobwebs all gone now?” She used to constantly complain her vagina was sad because she wasn’t getting any. Now, I’m the last of us girls unattached. I’m the one with the cobwebs. I can’t even say I’m looking as I just don’t have good luck with guys. Men don’t really get me. They’re either intimidated by my curves or treat me like a piece of meat. I need a sophisticated man who knows how to touch a woman. An older man, who’s handsome and sophisticated and sexy but not a creeper. The older men I’ve recently come across have been seedy and just gross. So disgusting that I would rather continue my solo love affair with B.O.B. for an eternity than go on a single date with any of them.

  I’ve thought about trying online dating but honestly, I’m scared. I am a magnet for weirdos. Online dating could take the creeper effect to a whole new level. Nope. All good here. Tinder, no swipes for you. I don’t need a man. I just need my friends, salon, and vibrator, and I’m good to go.

  “It’s getting massaged daily, my friend,” Evie whispers into the phone and then giggles.

  “Lucky bitch,” I reply, wishing I could find a good man like hers to give my girl down below some love, and the rest of me too.

  “You’ll find a guy soon, Mags.” I huff and continue on my trek to the donut shop. “Anyway, Lenora and I want to schedule an appointment. We need some girl time with our best girl.”

  “Oh, you flatter me. I have some time today if you and Lee want to come in later?”

  Evie squeals and I pull my phone away from my ear. Geez. She should warn me before she does shit like that.

  “Perfect! I’m so excited. I want to get all primped for Jake. He’s been stressed at work lately and I want to surprise him with something special at the office.”

  Evie and Jake have sex at their offices all the time, even though they live together and can have normal sex in a bed. Desk sex sounds pretty hot though. Plus, they’re both workaholics. It works for them. I wish I could meet a guy who gets me like Jake gets Evie. I just haven’t found my type of weird yet, I guess.

  “I’m not waxing your vagina again. I draw the line at pubic hair. That was a one-time thing that was a mistake. One I can’t unsee. No more waxing friends.”

  I shiver at the memory of her booking a waxing appointment. I do them all the time, but it’s usually for strangers a
nd a few regulars. It gets really awkward when you know the person. I tried it once for her because she was in a bind from her previous waxer and needed it done ASAP. It didn’t help that the whole time I was doing the procedure, she was talking about the amazing sex she and Jake have all the time. I ran out of there as soon as I finished the last strip, nearly needing bleach for my eyes and ears.

  “I don’t need a wax, chicka. I’m all bare and ready for my man. I want my nails done, hair trimmed, you know, the usual.”

  She sounds extra perky this morning. She probably woke up to Jake between her legs. God, what I wouldn’t give to wake up that way once in a while. I reach the donut shop, but hang out before I go in. No one needs to hear me talk about my friend’s vagina.

  “Okay, good. I can’t wait to see you and Lenora later today.” We say a quick goodbye and then I hang up.

  Pushing the store doors open with a flourish, I’m ready to get some donuts. Eric is behind the counter, as usual. His parents own the donut shop and he plans on inheriting it someday. He’s a tall, lean Asian guy who always hits on me. He’s cute, but I like muscular older men. Thankfully, Eric isn’t creepy, just persistent.

  “Maggie, my love. You come here almost every morning. Why don’t we just run away together? You can have my donuts anytime you want then.”

  Okay. I take that last remark back. He’s laying it on thick today. I shuffle to the counter, not really knowing how to respond to his comment, deciding to ignore it and order my usual two chocolate glazed donuts. Nothing like a chocolate donut for a pick-me-up. I so need this chocolate right now.

  “Coming right up, my lady.”

  I roll my eyes and pull out some cash to cover my order. I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

  “Excuse me.” I turn from the counter and a broad chest meets my eyes. My eyes go up, up, up to a strong jaw with dark stubble. Pink pouty lips meet my eyes next and then I move on to an angular nose that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. I bite my lip and continue my gaze to a set of piercing steel blue eyes framed by dark lashes I would kill for. His thick eyebrows complement the whole look. I’m awestruck as I stand staring at this guy like some sort of stalker, but I can’t look away. I’ve never seen a man this gorgeous. It’s then that I notice he’s wearing an officer’s uniform. Fuck. He has handcuffs—oh my, do I want Hot Cop to handcuff me to him right now—and a fitted uniform that shows just how much he must work out. I lick my lips and try to form some words, but nothing comes out, so I wait for him to continue.

  “I’m surprised your boyfriend makes you pay.” He grasps his utility belt and adjusts it slightly. I could watch him do that all day. His muscular legs don’t deter me from noticing a sizeable package between his legs. Is he hard? Hard for me? Focus, Maggie. Eyes off of his bulging package and back up to his beautiful blue eyes.

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. I’m too busy fantasizing about a bed, sweaty bodies, and someone bound by handcuffs. He chuckles and scratches his perfect jaw, then points behind me.

  “Yeah, your guy there makes you pay for your own donuts?”

  Oh yeah, I’m in a donut shop with a hot cop and my obsessive donut nut. I shake my head to clear my clouded thoughts. I love a man in uniform. I bet his chest would be nice to cuddle and straddle. My wandering eyes glance down again at his package. It looks so inviting, almost whispering to me, touch me, caress me, ride me . . .

  “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend, or my guy. I mean, I guess he’s my donut guy. I like his nuts. I mean, donuts.” Wait, what? Of course, I say this directly at his crotch. I swiftly turn around and face palm myself. What the hell did I just say? Humiliating myself around hot guys is apparently a frequent hobby of mine. I should not be allowed out of the salon, especially around Hot Cop. Just about that time, Eric calls back from the kitchen.

  “Just one moment, my Maggie. I’m getting you some fresh donuts.” My body sags and I hide my face behind my hands. This is so embarrassing.

  “Maggie? Is that your name?” Hot Cop almost whispers my name like it’s a dirty secret. I can’t help but turn around and look at Greek-god Body-of-Perfection again. I just want to lick him like ice cream. From the glance I got, his popsicle is screaming super-sized. A popsicle that is probably perfectly-trimmed. I wonder if he’s ever been handcuffed? My mind is all over the place. Well, all over a certain officer I suddenly want to arrest me for indecent behavior.

  “Yes,” I reply breathlessly. I subconsciously jut out my already large chest, giving him a peek of the ample girls. What the hell am I doing? His eyes go round for just a moment before he gulps and then looks away. Did I misread the situation? Is he just making small talk and not into me at all? He’s probably married. I glance down at his left hand. No band and no indentation. I know sometimes with hands-on jobs, the men take off their rings so they won’t lose them. There’s also no tan line. He probably has a girlfriend and he’s just passing the time until Eric gets back. I’m sure he noticed how uncomfortable Eric makes me. He’s just trying to be nice.

  Not wanting to further humiliate myself, I turn back around and stay in my own bubble. Tapping my foot, I drum my fingers on the counter. Gosh, Eric is taking forever. It’s so quiet in the shop I can hear Hot Cop breathing behind me. I wonder what his name is. Inconspicuously, I peek over my shoulder at his nametag. It reads, M. Styles.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “What?” he replies. Did I say that out loud? Damn. He’s caught me staring and talking to myself like a weirdo.

  “I’m a stylist,” I blurt out. What is wrong with me? I’m taking weird to a whole new level.

  “Okay.” This guy is so confused by me. Hell, I’m confused by me too. Guys usually don’t get to me like this. I usually tell them to either go to hell or . . . I haven’t had a guy I wanted to hook up with in a long time. I shake my head. Breathe, Maggie. He’s just a regular guy. A regular guy with an amazing physique and lips I want on my body. “Right?” he asks.

  Oh shit. I wasn’t listening. I turn to face him again. “What?”

  He glances at my breasts, probably waiting for me to thrust them in his face again for a front row show to the golden globes. He gulps and repeats his question. “You own the haircut place a few shops down, right?”

  He clears his throat and fondles his baton, lightly stroking it as I watch like a certified creeper. I bet that’s how he jacks off. His dick is probably thicker though. Goodness, I need to rein my horny in right now as I am acting all kinds of crazy. Then, I remember he asked me a question.

  “Oh, yup.” I nod like an idiot. “How’d you know?”

  He seems awkward too now and he keeps adjusting his belt as well as crossing and uncrossing his arms, making me even more of a horny hot mess. Please, just reach out and grab me. Bend me over and have your way with me right on this donut counter. You can even use your baton and handcuffs. I think I’m actually drooling right now so I swipe around my mouth to be sure.

  “I patrol this area regularly. I’ve seen you around.” He gives me this boyish smile that causes me to blush. I’m sure I’m staring at him like he just saved my cat from a tree. Or is that a fireman? Either way, I’m crushing on Hot Cop so hard. I barely know him but I want him. So much.

  “Here’s your donuts, my love.”

  I ignore Eric and stare at the handsome officer. Something else is cooking inside this donut shop besides the sugar. I can feel the electricity surging through the air. A current between us that is undeniable. Suddenly, the door opens and we all turn to the man huffing and puffing into the shop. It’s another cop. Except he’s your stereotypical round robust shape, who looks like he eats all the donuts. Shaking his head at Officer Styles, the other officer motions for him to come with him.

  “Stop flirting with the fat chick. We got a ten-sixteen in progress. We gotta go now.” He rushes right back out the way he came.

  Before I can even take a breath to reply to the officer�
�s incredibly cruel remark, Styles looks back at me. His look is remorseful, which pisses me off even more. His shoulders rise in a shrug and then he charges out of the shop.

  “What a dick!” Eric says after everyone is gone.

  “Yeah.” I’m so embarrassed and pissed at the whole situation. How ironic that the fat cop called me fat, but even worse is the hot cop saying nothing. That shrug he gave me gutted me. I usually don’t let things like this get to me, but the way officer Styles reacted hurt. He did nothing. No defending me. No apology. He just shrugged it off. It’s like those jocks back in high school all over again. Well, I guess first impressions really are everything and this one turned into an epic fail. The worst epic fail in a while as I actually felt a connection to Styles, something that felt real.

  When you know someone likes you and to save face or fit in, they put you down to make themselves look good. Which they really don’t. They look like dicks. I slap my hand down on the counter. I thought that stage of my life was over.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Eric places his hand on top of mine. I look up and realize I’m crying. I quickly pull my hand away and wipe an errant tear.

  “I’ll be okay. Thank you. How much do I owe you, Eric?” I make my voice sound calm. It’s not like this hasn’t happened before. I don’t know why this incident is bothering me so much. I just need to forget both of those jerks.

  “No charge today, Maggie.” When I begin to argue with him, he holds his hand up. “If I hadn’t taken so long, you wouldn’t have had to go through that. Sorry. I won’t serve that dude any of my donuts anymore.”