Zayn Malik is ready to make life miserable for Syreena, ready to throw bombs that will inflict pain, and ready to get his bittersweet revenge on her. And Syreena is ready for this battle, ready to hold her ground, and ready to rip Zayn Malik apart. Both want their revenge, instead this game of theirs turns out to be a cocktail of hatred, jealousy, lust, obsession, addiction, family, and love. And who said love was easy when in truth, it’s the biggest bitch of all. Sequel to Malik’s Stripper.

"Are you... lost?" Someone asked, her tone impatient. I stopped scanning the room to find the woman behind the voice. I blinked. She had the most luminous blue eyes I had ever seen. Even in the dim glow of the bar they glowed brightly, like her pupils were some type of smooth stone at the bottom of a clear blue ocean. Within her blue there flickered tiny speckles of silver, which gave her an icy, somewhat stony appeal. But it was her slight, lopsided smile that erased any signs of wanting to be alone. No wonder this bar was so popular. "Uh, no," I said, holding up the Help Wanted sign I had snagged from the front window. The woman's cool eyes flickered between the sign and me. She didn't say anything, only looked slightly thoughtful as slender fingers raked through her long blonde hair. "What can you do?" She finally asked, definitely not expecting me to be able to do much of anything at all. She'd be right. "Anything and everything," I answered-lied-instantly, hoping I didn't look too desperate, didn't sound too eager. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't worked a day in my life. My hands were used to weekly manicures not hard labor. But desperate times call for desperate measures. The blonde appeared thoughtful again. Those magnificent eyes gave me a once over, slow and steady. You could see the cogs turning in her head as she considered it. I decided to try and sound more convincing. "I have many skills," I added. Okay, so I stole that from Xena, but I was hoping it worked as well for me as it did for her. The blonde lifted a sculpted brow and the smile was, once again, back on her lips. She seemed amused. Maybe she was a Xena fan? "Alright... I'll start you off cleaning the bathrooms, sweeping the floors, doing the dishes..." Crap.

Syreena Wate, mostly known as ‘The Dirty Angel’ is Zayn Malik’s personal stripper. She’s the one who dances for him and entertains him late at night. She’s the one who gets the cash stuffed in her underwear by him. She’s the one who gets money thrown by him. And she’s the one Zayn Malik is falling deeply in love with.

So, hey guys. Today I was looking through some stuff I found from 6th grade... I found my writing journal My teacher in 6th grade was all about creative writing And I mean, she was CRAZY about it So, We had writing a lot I apparently was a messed up 6th grader cause I wrote about some strange stuff. And me, being well, me thought, Hey, here's a good idea, how about you post these stories on Wattpad? So I am. And let me warn you, These are UNEDITED Which basically means they are going to sound like a little kid writing I will be putting side-notes though So that's a good thing Anyway, I hope you "enjoy" my messed up 6th grade mind Kaybie P.S The cover on this is th cover of the writing journal that all of this is in. So yeah Kaybie

What happens when you fall in love with your close friend?

Emma Miller didn't know that one run in with the school's bad boy, Aiden Black, would make her life go in all different directions. She didn't know that one little accidental bump into him would throw her into a world of drugs, violence and bad guys. Even with all that, she didn't know that one little accidental bump would cause her to fall for this certain bad boy. Join Emma in this exciting twist with love and danger.© All Rights Reserved 2013 (Lisa S.)

Your typical cliché story where the good girl falls in love with the bad boy but this story has a twist (;

Tessa Young is an 18 year old college student with a simple life, excellent grades, and a sweet boyfriend. She always has things planned out ahead of time, until she meets a rude boy named Hardin, with too many tattoos and piercings who shatters her plans.

[This is a spin-off of The DILF but can be read as a stand-alone] [The story you are about to read is intended for readers age 18+ due to its sexual content and language. It may not be appropriate for all audiences. Please read at your own discretion.] There was nothing Ophelia wanted better than to gouge Nikolai's long-lashed, consuming blue eyes out with a butter knife and mail them to the rest of the Alvonich family. Too bad they were in a very public, very esteemed place - Mikhail's wedding. "You don't think I'll press the button?" Nikolai's breath was warm and teasing in her ear. Ophelia had no idea what possessed her to take up his challenge of a vibrating thong, except that it was too late to back out now. She turned to glance at the infuriating man beside her. "Honestly, I don't care. It won't affect me." "Sweet Ophelia," he whispered, surprising her by flicking his tongue into her ear. Jumping, she glared at him, ignoring the important guests at her table, her father included. Before she could curse at Nikolai, he pressed the button, the swearwords turning to soft moans under her breath. Gripping the edge of the table, Ophelia felt the attack on her cl!t like a burn to her skin. Her father shot her a concerned look from across the table and Nikolai's voice was again in her ear. "Before the end of the night, Ophelia, we will f**k," he promised, releasing his finger from the remote control. "Only this time, it will be my name you scream."