"ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴍᴇ ʀᴀᴜʟ" ɪ ᴡʜɪꜱᴘᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴍʏ ʟᴀꜱʜᴇꜱ.
Angel's life has been quite a roller coaster ride since she graduated with an exceptional degree from one of the finest schools in her hometown.
Securing employment proved to be ch...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Stripping? It's the most shameful and degrading job imaginable. At least, that's what I used to think. But when it comes to saving a life—especially someone you love—you'll do things you never thought possible.
The path I chose was ruthless, lined with thorns, but isn't every rose guarded by them? Each wound, each struggle, only prepared me for what lay ahead, a life of fame, temptation, and a love I was never meant to have.
Angel's POV
The shrill buzzing of my alarm filled the room, snapping me out of my restless thoughts. My hand shot out, silencing it before I groaned and sat up, rubbing my temples.
Another night. Another performance. Another round of strangers throwing cash at me like I was nothing more than a fantasy come to life.
I sighed, pushing the thoughts away as I swung my legs off the bed. Dwelling on it wouldn't change the reality of my situation.
I made my way to my closet, pulling out a pair of tight leather pants and a matching bra top.
Slipping them on, I draped my long coat over my shoulders, making sure it covered me properly before grabbing my bag and heading out the door.
The club wasn't anywhere near my neighborhood—intentionally so.
The last thing I needed was my mother finding out where I worked. It would break her, and that was something I couldn't afford.
The cool night air kissed my skin as I walked down the dimly lit sidewalk. Streetlights flickered above, casting long shadows as I made my way to the subway.
I pulled my coat tighter around me, ignoring the occasional lingering stares from passing men. Fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my stop, stepping out into the livelier part of the city.
Neon signs blinked above the bustling streets, advertising bars, strip clubs, and all kinds of nighttime pleasures. Among them was Velvet Desire, the place that had become my second home—whether I liked it or not.
Two bulky security guards stood by the entrance, their expressions unreadable.
"Evening, Angel," one of them greeted with a nod.
I gave a small smile in return. "Hey, Mike. Hey, Rico."
Without a word, they pulled the heavy doors open, letting me slip inside.
Immediately, I was hit with the overwhelming scent of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and sweat. The bass of the music pulsed through the air, vibrating beneath my feet as I made my way through the sea of bodies.
It was already packed. I checked the time. Six PM. Seriously?
Shaking my head, I navigated through the crowd, slipping past eager patrons and intoxicated dancers.
Finally, I reached the back hallway, where the dressing rooms were.
Pulling my key from my pocket, I unlocked my door and stepped inside, exhaling in relief, but just as I was about to shut the door, a voice stopped me.
