Fighting For His Queen: Kings Gym, #4

By Shaw Hart

He's found his princess, but will he be able to free her from the tower that she's locked herself in? 

Kit King is used to fighting for what he wants.

He worked hard to make it as a professional MMA fighter until that was crushed by a career ending injury.

Then he worked hard to heal and open his own gym and now he runs one of the busiest gyms in Pittsburgh.

When he saves Stella one night from a mugger, he realizes that he may have just found his most important fight of all.

Stella has been taking care of herself for her whole life and isn't about to just hand over control to some guy, even if he is super hot and did save her life.

Between her boss and her creepy roommate, she's over men. Her knight in shining boxing shorts isn't giving up that easily though.

Kit is used to fighting for what he wants, and what he wants is his Princess.

Will this tough fighter be able to make it past Stella's defenses?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Shaw Hart
• Release date: May 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223068242

Book preview

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 rundown 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. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania is expensive and if I want to make rent and be able to eat, I need to work wherever I can. I was working at a diner on the east side but it got shut down by the health department and now I’m trying to find a second job to make up for the lost income. It also means that I need to really make tips here at the club in the meantime.

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 four blocks from the strip club in the 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 has to have an entire folder with complaints against him.

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 okay 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