The madness of life

Crouching to pick up my clothes from the sticky floor of the club's private unit, the sharp sting on my ass landed before the rage could. I whipped around.

There he was-smug grin plastered across his chiseled, fake-tanned face. One of those men who wore expensive cologne like it could mask the rot underneath. His suit screamed money, but his eyes-those were all gutter.

"Why don't I pay for the night, sweetheart?" he said, voice dripping with entitlement.

Bastard.

I straightened, holding his gaze, heels clicking threateningly as I stood at full height. "I don't do nights," I said, the words sharp as razors. "But I can send in someone who does." I tried not to snarl, but I couldn't help the edge in my voice.

He chuckled like I'd just flirted. Entitled men hear what they want.

Clipping the underbelt of my strip dress, I adjusted the sides with practiced hands. I scooped up the wad of bills left on the glass table-tips I earned the hard way-and turned toward the door.

"Oh come on, sweet tits," he growled. "You'll love to have my cock deep inside that tight little cu-"

"No thank you, I'm good," I cut him off, voice calm, firm.

The air shifted. He lunged.

In a flash, his hand gripped my wrist and shoved me hard against the velvet-lined wall. My back thudded, breath caught in my throat as he pinned both my arms above my head, face too close, breath sour with whiskey and power.

"I wasn't asking for it, cunt. I want it. And I'm getting it," he hissed, leaning in for a kiss I never consented to.

Big mistake.

I brought my knee up hard between his legs. He gasped, choked on his own pain, and tumbled to the ground, clutching his groin.

"Bitch-"

Before he could finish, I twisted his wrist behind his back and shoved him face-first into the carpet, my silver-painted nails pressing into the side of his neck. I leaned in close, voice laced with venom.

"This all part of foreplay, darling?" he panted out, still cocky even with his balls shriveling in pain. "'Cause you should know-I take it rough."

I could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

"Yeah, sure. You can call it that," I said, twisting his wrist harder.

He yelped.

"Not my first rodeo, cowboy."