Fighting for His Princess

by Shaw Hart

  Fighting for His Princess

  Blurb:

  Stella Martin has had enough.

  Between the creeps at the strip club where she waitresses and her jerk of a roommate, Stella is over men. She is sure that every guy is just after one thing and she wants no part of it. She just wants to save up enough money to get out of this dead-end town and start over somewhere new.

  Then she meets Kit.

  Kit Rodgers is a retired boxer who settled down after his career ending injury to open up his own gym. He just wants to get his gym established and then he’ll worry about finding someone to settle down with. Then he meets Stella.

  Kit is used to fighting for what he wants, and what he wants is his Princess. Will this tough boxer be able to make it past Stella’s defenses?

  *Warning! This book alpha is over-the-top, head over heels in love with his Princess. If you're looking for a steamy insta-love story then this book is for you!

  Chapter One

  Stella

  I sigh, hopping from foot to foot while I wiggle my toes inside my shoes, trying to get some more feeling in my squished toes. I just need to wait while Bobby divides up all of the tips and then I can head home and get off my feet. I’m boned tired, drained from a long day on top of a long week. It’s a Thursday so I still have to work two more days before I’ll get a day off and I groan as I think about having to work again tomorrow night and then Saturday. They’re the busiest days so hopefully tips will be good, but my feet will be killing me.

  I’m a cocktail waitress at the local strip club and I’ve just spent the last eight hours on my feet, dodging dancers and the customers groping hands, all while delivering drinks and wearing five-inch stilettos. The strip club is probably like most small-town clubs. Dated, with old, scarred tables and chairs, and a dirty floor. I shudder to think about all of the things that are probably coating the carpet in here. There’s one main stage that wraps around the front of the room with a pole on each end and then one pole on the little strip that juts out in the middle. Bar stools line the edge of the stage and there are tables and chairs scattered around the rest of the room. A bar lines the left side of the room and behind that is a door that leads to the employee locker room.

  Working at the strip club isn’t exactly anyone’s dream job but I didn’t have a lot of options. Lindsborg, Kansas isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis. With a population of less than 3,500 people, it’s probably like most small towns in the US. It’s also in the middle of nowhere. There’s only one main strip in the town and everything is situated off of it. The strip club is a little further from the main strip than most, closer to the outskirts of town.

  I shift again, putting more of my weight on the bar as I try to take some of the pressure off of my cramped toes. I knew I shouldn’t have worn shoes that I hadn’t fully broken in to work but they went with my outfit and I thought that they would help with tips. I’m wearing a tight, neon pink, baby doll dress. It flits around the top of my thighs and I’ve had to worry all night about dropping things because I don’t think that I could bend over without flashing everyone my pale pink lace panties underneath.

  I just want to go home and relax but I stand at the bar with the other waitresses, Jenny and Sarah, waiting to get our tips for the night. They look as tired as I feel. I watch as Bobby, the bartender, counts out the tips, splitting it into four piles. I can tell already that it’s not enough. I need to pay for my share of the rent next week and I’m not sure that I’ll have enough. Tips have been pathetic the last couple of days and I’ve been stressing about money. I’m already living off of ramen and cereal and I live in the cheapest apartment that I could find. I don’t know how else to save money.

  I already know what my roommate will say if I can’t scrape together my share of the rent. The last time that I was a little short on rent, he had offered to cover my missing share if I would just blow him. In case you couldn’t guess, my roommate is a dick. His name is Larry and I only moved in six months ago. I should have taken more time getting to know him and looking at other choices but I was desperate for a place to stay and low on cash. Larry had made it sound like he had other people waiting to be his roommate and I had panicked, agreeing before I could think about it more. I’m not sure that I could have afforded anything else at the time, not unless I wanted to have three or four roommates. It’s bad enough having just the one.

  Larry is a slob. He leaves food and trash all over the place and I am constantly cleaning up after him. It only took me a few days to realize that he had lied to me when he said that he had other people who wanted to live with him. No one would want to live like this.

  My apartment is only three blocks from the strip club in a seedy part of town. It’s surrounded by rundown strip malls, pawn shops, and other crappy apartment buildings. My apartment with Loser Larry is on the first floor. He works from home as an IT specialist and I honestly don’t know how he still has a job. He talks to people over the phone and helps with their computer problems but I’ve heard him talk to customers and he’s so rude to them.

  He looks exactly like what you would picture an IT guy to look like. Slightly pudgy with no muscles, a pair of thick glasses, and shaggy hair. I had thought he looked harmless when I first met him. I had thought that he would be an ok roommate. Someone I only had to deal with part of the time, but he never leaves the place. He’s a total homebody who spends hours in front of his computer, playing games or checking out porn. Did I mention that his computer is set up in the living room? Yep, I’ve walked in on him masturbating more times than I can count.

  Bobby finally finishes splitting up the tips and I grab mine, saying goodnight to the other girls before I grab my backpack, stuffing the money inside, and head for the door. I want to get out of here before my boss can corner me and offer me a spot on the stage again. He’s been pushing for me to “move up” at work and start stripping instead of just waitressing. I’ve seen the cash that some of the strippers leave with and I would be lying if I said that I never thought about taking my boss up on his offer.

  I know that I’m attractive. I have wavy blonde hair that hangs halfway down my back and large green eyes. I have a heart-shaped face with a light dusting of freckles over my nose. I’m not sure that many people even see those things though. No, the one feature that everyone notices isn’t my face or my hair.

  It’s my boobs.

  I’m 5’4” with a slim build but a size 34 G bra size. My boobs are always getting in the way and I know that they’re why my boss keeps asking me to strip. I’m also pretty sure that they’re how I got this job in the first place since my boss couldn’t seem to pull his eyes off of them for the entire interview. Most people, especially guys, have a hard time pulling their eyes away from them.

  I can’t stand the way guys treat me because of my cup size. Working at the strip club and wearing the short, revealing outfits doesn’t help. Most customers treat me like a piece of meat and as soon as other people find out where I work, their view and attitude towards me start to change as well. I’m used to people looking down on me or treating me like dirt.

  Most guys treat me like a sex object and I hate it. That’s probably why I’ve never had a boyfriend. I’ve been out on a few dates but it’s like because of my boobs and my place of work, guys just think I’m going to put out on the first date. I wonder how surprised they would be to find out that I’m still a virgin.

  I nod goodnight to the bouncer standing guard outside the door before I hitch my backpack higher and start to head home. I walk as quickly as I can in my high heels down the cracked sidewalks, making sure to walk near the working streetlamps. In this area, that’s few and far between. Luckily for me, there’s a full moon tonight and i
t helps to light my way. It’s a balmy night and for once, I’m thankful for my skimpy waitress outfit. I pull my hair up, grabbing a hair tie off of my wrist and wrapping it up so it doesn’t hang down on my neck. I blow out a puff of air, fanning my face as I turn down the dark alley. It’s a shortcut that I found a couple of weeks ago. Almost home, I think, relief washing over me.

  That’s when I feel it. A tug on my backpack.

  At first, I think that it got snagged on something but then it comes again, stronger this time. I’m pulled back, teetering on my high heels as I try to turn around and see what’s happening. I jerk away, spinning around and coming face to face with a tall guy. He’s wearing dirty jeans and a black hoodie with the hood pulled up. I can’t make out much of his face but I can tell that he’s at least six inches taller than me and probably has one hundred pounds on me.

  “Give me the bag, you fucking slut.” He snarls at me, trying to reach past me for my backpack again.

  I know that I should just hand over my bag. There’s no way that I can take this guy if he decides to get physical and, in my high heels, there’s no way that I could outrun him. I know all of this but the thought of handing this guy my backpack, with all of my tips inside has anger firing in my blood. I straighten my shoulders as I face off with the guy trying to mug me.

  My mom always told me that I was too stubborn for my own good. I narrow my eyes, backing away from the guy. He walks towards me, his hands tightening into fists as he closes the distance between us. My eyes look around, trying to find anyone that I could yell to for help but at this late hour, there’s no one on the streets. My attacker steps closer to me and I scamper back another couple of feet.

  My heel catches on a crack in the sidewalk and my arms pinwheel, trying to keep my balance. I close my eyes, bracing myself for the fall but it never comes. Two strong arms wrap around me, tugging me back into a firm chest. A feeling of safety, of being where I belong washes over me. It’s a weird feeling for me and I’m not sure why I’m feeling it now but I don’t have time to analyze it. I barely have time to react to being caught before my savior sets me on my feet and jerks me behind him.

  I stare at his wide shoulders as he faces off with my attacker. I know that I should run now. I’m street-smart enough to know that there’s no reason for me to stick around and yet something keeps me rooted to the spot. Something about the guy who caught me has me sticking around.

  Like the guy who was trying to mug me, this guy is wearing a dark hoodie but that’s where the similarities end. The guy who saved me is taller, at least 6’ 3”, and wider. I wish that I could have gotten a better look at the guy's face before he put me behind him. Now, all I have to go by is the guys back. They both are thick but my attacker is flabby, with a beer gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. The guy who saved me is thick with muscle. I wonder how much he works out.

  I shake my head, trying to clear that thought away. I shouldn’t be finding anyone attractive right now. The guy who saved me steps forward, forcing the mugger back a step.

  “You should pick on someone your own size.” The new guy says.

  “Stay out of this man.” The mugger says, trying to sound tough.

  My savior doesn’t say anything back, just kind of chuckles to himself before he draws his arm back and sends it crashing into my mugger’s face. The hood flies off and the guy drops to the pavement with a sickening thud. I can see his lip is bleeding and he seems shocked. I watch as the mugger hurries to his feet and runs off down the sidewalk.

  Going, going, gone.

  I’m frozen with my mouth hanging open in shock as my savior wipes his knuckles off on his jeans and slowly turns around to face me.

  Chapter Two

  Kit

  I doublecheck that all of the lights are off before I close and lock the door behind me. I had stayed late at the gym, finishing up all of the paperwork that had been piling up for the last couple of weeks. I opened this gym because I love boxing and working out. I had boxed professionally for a couple of years before I blew out my shoulder in a fight. After that, I had gotten my license as a trainer and used my winnings from fighting to open up Rodgers Boxing Club.

  Business has been good with new clients signing up every month. We started a kids class a couple of months ago and that has by far been our most popular class. I was having a hard time running everything so I hired two more trainers last month to start some new classes. Having more employees is great for business but it also means more paperwork for me. I hate paperwork.

  I start to walk across the parking lot to my truck. I always park it in the back of the lot and I head that way when I hear a sound. I look up towards the sound and see a spot of pink down at the end of the alley across the street. I squint my eyes, trying to make out the shapes in the dim lighting. I take a couple of steps closer and that’s when I see what’s going on.

  There’s a hooded guy, prowling down the alley towards a pretty girl in a neon pink dress. The girl is shaking her head no as she tries to back away from him. He reaches out towards her and I’m running before I even realize that I gave my body the command. I sprint down the sidewalk towards them, keeping the girl's slim form in my sight the entire time.

  I see one of her heels catch on the pavement and her arms shoot out, bracing for a fall. I’m there before she can hit the cold cement. I wrap my arms around her, tugging her upright and staring over her shoulder into the eyes of the man who was trying to hurt her. I don’t want to let go of the girl but I need to take care of this piece of shit.

  I place the tiny girl behind me, protecting her with my larger form and making sure that she’s out of sight from the guy who was trying to hurt her. I take a step towards her attacker and smile slightly when I see the guy's eyes widen as he takes a step back. He looks up and meets my eyes, trying to hide his fear with a sneer.

  “You should pick on someone your own size.” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  The guy's eyes dart down to my arms and I see him gulp.

  “Stay out of this man.” He says, trying to sound tough.

  This will be too easy.

  I laugh slightly as I ball my hand into a fist, pulling my arm back and slamming it into his face. My knuckles crash into his mouth and I see his lip split open and start bleeding as his hood falls back. The guy lands on his ass with a thud, wiping his mouth off on his sleeve as he stares up at me with shocked eyes.

  He scampers to his feet and darts back down the sidewalk with only one backward glance at us. I watch until he turns the corner before I wipe the blood on my hand off on my jeans and

  turn back to the girl behind me.

  I freeze, sucking in a breath as I get a good look at the princess standing in front of me. Her pale blonde hair is twisted up on top of her head with just a few loose strands falling down around her thin shoulders. She looks pale and I’m sure she’s still scared from being attacked. She has long lashes framing her large green eyes and she’s staring up at me, unblinking. Her eyes are perfection and I think I fall in love right then and there. I could drown in those green eyes.

  My eyes scan down the rest of her small body and I have to wipe my mouth to make sure that I’m not drooling. She has the body of a goddess. I frown momentarily at her outfit, scowling down at the bright pink shoes that are obviously cutting into her feet, judging by the angry med marks I can see. She’s tiny, only coming up to my chest with long legs that lead up to rounded hips. I lick my lips, picturing gripping those hips while I plow into her from behind.

  I bite back a groan as I will my erection to go down. My eyes trail over the rest of her, taking in the tiny scrap of a dress that swishes around her upper thighs as she shifts on her feet. I want to tug it down so that no one else can see what belongs to me but as my eyes scan higher, I realize that might be impossible.

  The small bodice of her dress is barely able to contain my princess’s tits. They’re spilling over the top and I realize that she’s not wearing a bra so if I were
to just tug on the thin straps holding the dress up, she would be topless before me. It’s obvious that her tits would be more than a handful, even for my large hands. I wonder what her nipples look like. Are they pale pink or a darker shade of red. What do they taste like? How will they feel when I suck them into my mouth? I try my hardest to shake those thoughts from my head as I take a step closer to her, smelling her floral scent. She’s absolutely delectable. She’s lucky that guy only seemed to want her backpack from her.

  I look back into her green eyes and anger and panic grips my throat. I can’t believe this girl. I mean who wanders around in dark alleys by themselves at night? She obviously needs someone to protect her and that someone is going to be me. She belongs with me. I can feel it. I can’t believe that I could have lost her tonight before I ever even found her. I’ll take better care of her. With that settled, I grab her arm, twirling her around and marching her to my truck.

  “What were you thinking? Wandering around at night in dark alleys? Don’t you have any self-preservation instincts? Or just common sense?”

  My princess seems shocked that I’m speaking to her this way and I’m not trying to be mean. I just need her to understand that she needs to take care of herself. Or she did. From now on, I will be the one looking out for her.

  “Excuse me?” She screeches, her gorgeous green eyes flashing at me as she tries to jerk her arm out of my grip.

  “What were you thinking? Do you know how stupid it is for you to be walking down dark alleys by yourself late at night?”

  “Thanks for the assist back there, but I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.” She says, trying to tug her arm away from me again.

  I lead her back out onto the main strip and we cross the road towards my truck. She’s dragging her feet but I must have a hundred and fifty pounds on her and she’s no match for me. I lead her across the street as she tells me about how she can take care of herself. She reminds me of a tiny kitten who thinks that she’s a lion. I smile to myself as I drag her behind me to my truck.