certain kind of madness

or of the club's private unit, the sharp sting on m

One of those men who wore expensive cologne like it could mask the rot

ht, sweetheart?" he said, vo

st

height. "I don't do nights," I said, the words sharp as razors. "But I can send in

ust flirted. Entitled

ith practiced hands. I scooped up the wad of bills left on the g

led. "You'll love to have my cock

good," I cut him of

hifted. H

t-lined wall. My back thudded, breath caught in my throat as he pinned bot

t. And I'm getting it," he hissed, lean

mist

. He gasped, choked on his own pain, and t

it

ed him face-first into the carpet, my silver-painted nails pressing

out, still cocky even with his balls shriveling

lly hear the smi

ll it that," I said, tw

yel

irst rode

e time-men who mistake power for permission, charm for consent.

e lounge, the sound of the door slamming beh

arms wrapped around my waist like a shield, navigating through the maze of b

air. Spac

aded straight for the last stall. The moment th

exha

h came o

an to cry.

h the cracks anyway-silent at fir

ry, Layla," I whispered betwee

ly made me

little girl who

ad so many career prospect

t get to have a childhood, who

started believing she didn't deserve happiness. That

. Ugly sobs and

I cried because I had carried s

face with some scratchy toilet paper, r

, I wou

ow, I woul

that's w