Mature Content 17+ || Savage Wolves MC Book One
Recently escaped from the only home she's ever known, Letha moves out to Las Vegas to start a new life away from the people who sought to ruin her. Broke and jobless, with no employers calling her back...
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•Letha•
"You're late." June reprimands me as I rush into the dressing room.
"I'm sorry. Really, I am. It won't happen again." I stare up at June from where I'm sitting in the vanity chair, attempting to rearrange my hair and touch up my makeup.
Her arms are crossed over her chest and for a moment I get a horrible flashback to the Madam from the brothel standing over me, chastising me for yet another thing that pissed her off.
June must see the look of terror on my face and her gaze softens, her hands falling to her sides instead.
"It's okay, sweetie, don't let it happen again, yeah?"
"Never. You have my word."
She nods and leaves the dressing room, closing the door on her way out.
I adjust the few random braids in my hair and pat my lipstick with a tissue before standing and shimmying out of my skater dress and into a slinky bustier-esqe outfit that hugs my curves. Tassels hang from the bottom and dangle over my ass, barely covering anything.
Slipping on a pair of sky high patent black leather heels, I check my appearance once more before nodding to myself.
"You've got his. Easy peasy."
I enter the lobby and make my way over to a table filled with a group of young men with military haircuts.
They're buff and drunk and potentially willing to part with more than a hundred dollars if I play my cards right.
"Hey there," I sidle up to the largest one and drape my legs over his lap and wrap my arm over his shoulders, grazing my fingers through his short dark hair.
His amber eyes drop to my ample cleavage due to the massive push up effect of the padded bustier I'm wearing.
I feel the beginnings of his cock stirring in his pants under my thighs and try not to recoil.
He can't hurt you.
"And what's your name, baby?" His hand reaches out to trail along my thigh and I allow it, as long as he stays on the outside.
"Jezebel. How about you fellas?" I look up through my lashes at the rest of the party and take in their handsome faces.
Not many customers here are as attractive as them, that's for damn sure. Most clients are middle-aged or just flat out geriatric. Aside from the Wolves themselves - who are all obviously former Greek Gods reincarnated.
These guys are young, hot, and wasting their time in a strip club. Any one of them could have any lady they want outside these walls.
Hell, I'm willing to bet the first woman they come across on the Strip would be willing to bang them.
