Fighter (Relentless Alphas Book 5)

  Fighter

  Relentless Alphas

  Jenna Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the book

  My whole life just became a fight for her.

  I never expected to find my angel in Hell.

  She didn’t belong at that club.

  So I gave her every penny I had to leave with me.

  I have to claim her. Show the world she belongs to me now.

  But I have one rule – a rule I can’t break:

  No release before a fight.

  I need my mojo if I’m going to win.

  The rest of our lives depends on it.

  I have to hold back, but I don’t know if I can resist.

  She might ruin everything.

  Or she might just save my life…

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  Contents

  1. Samantha

  2. Maximus

  3. Samantha

  4. Maximus

  5. Samantha

  6. Maximus

  7. Samantha

  8. Maximus

  9. Samantha

  10. Maximus

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  1

  Samantha

  “I don’t know if I’ll be able to move in this, Tressa.”

  I smack my lips as I finish coating them in cherry-red lipstick and glance down at the dress that’s clinging to my body like someone has wrapped me in shiny black Saran wrap. “I can barely walk. How am I supposed to…dance in it?”

  “You know, Sam, you’re my best friend,” Tressa says with that tone that lets me know there’s a but coming. “But sometimes I wonder if you have something wrong with your brain. You’re not dancing in it. You’re dancing in lingerie. You’re just wearing that into the club.”

  “Er, right.” I frown and twist my body and feel the tiny excuse for underwear that I have on underneath the dress that is so thin and tight it’s basically like wearing another layer of skin. It’s nothing I’d ever be caught dead in. Normally it’s sweat pants, a T-shirt and Uggs. Yes, I still wear Uggs. They’re comfortable.

  “You can still pull out if you want,” Tressa says. “I won’t hate you for it.”

  “Right. Except that I can’t. Not unless you want us to get evicted next week.”

  I’ve been living with Tressa since I was 16 when I ran away from home. You could say my parents were less than ideal. But I’m three months behind on our rent, and now that I’m 18, Tressa came up with the brilliant idea of having me join her at the strip club to make money off of my “fresh virgin ass.” Her words. Not mine.

  She’s been dancing for three years now, so she knows the ropes. She’s prepped me on what to expect, but I’m still shaking as we go out to her car. She’s right; I do want to pull out, but I also want to have a place to live and I don’t see any other way of managing that. There’s not exactly a big market for girls who wish they were artists and think they can paint.

  Tressa, who looks as calm as she usually does, glances over at me as she drives. “So, what do you say when they ask you your name?”

  “I tell them it’s Roxy.”

  “And if they ask you if that’s your real name?”

  “I tell them they only get to know my real name after becoming a regular,” I reply, remembering what she told me this afternoon. “And if they want to be a regular, they have to have seen me at least ten times.”

  “And…?” she asks, lifting an eyebrow. I think for a second, then it comes to me.

  “And tip well.”

  Tressa nods and clicks her tongue against her teeth. “That’s my girl.”

  Tress is my best friend, and I think it’s because we’re complete opposites. She’s everything I’m not: confident, boisterous, comfortable in her own skin and fully aware of her own sexuality.

  I, on the other hand, am shy, quiet, and have about as much experience with guys as I do with machine guns. The only reason I even have a boyfriend right now is because of her. Richard, or Dick as Tressa calls him, and I have been dating for a week and a half now. He’s friends with Tyler, Tressa’s boyfriend of two years, and she convinced me to give him a try so we could go on double-dates.

  He’s okay, I guess. There’s no spark, but I’m starting to wonder if “the spark” really even exists or if it’s all just a big lie told by Hollywood and romance novel authors to get girls to spend their money.

  My hands are shaking as Tressa pulls into the club and parks. Leave it to Beavers. I shake my head. I guess there are more comedians in San Diego than I realized.

  “Tressa…what if I make like…fifty dollars?”

  Tress looks at me like I’m crazy. “Bitch, you’re nuts. With that body? Those tits? Those lips? You’re gonna make more than I am as long as you don’t do something stupid like puke on a guy or toot in his face! Just keep your shit together, do as I told you, and don’t give any handjobs, no matter how much he offers you.”

  We get out and head into the club through the back entrance and into the locker room, where a few other girls are getting ready. I’ve never seen so much skin in my life. Most of them don’t have tops on, and their bottoms are basically pieces of colored floss. I don’t even know where to look.

  “Hey, bitches!” Tressa exclaims. God, I wish I had her personality. “This is Roxy. She’s my bff, so if any of you girls give her a hard time, I’ll put my foot so far up your vag that when you have your next kid, it’ll just fall out of your cervix. Got it?”

  A few of the girls sneer and give us both the evil eye, but most of them just laugh. Tressa unlocks a locker and puts both of our purses inside, then takes me by the hand and leads me down the hallway to the main room. The music grows louder as we walk, but I barely notice it over the sound of my heart thudding in my ears.

  I’ve never actually been inside the club. There are three stages, two small ones on the sides and one big one where a woman in her late 30s is dancing, dressed in assless chaps and a cowgirl hat. And God, does she know what she’s doing. How am I supposed to compete with that? I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get down to my lingerie without fainting.

  “You’re nervous. It shows,” Tressa tells me, shouting in my ear over the music. “I’ll go find us guys. You wait here!”

  Before I can say anything, she’s gone, threading her way through the sea of bodies. It’s mostly men of course, but there are some girls who seem to be having a good time. I stand there fidgeting as three men who look like lawyers in their 60s stop a few feet from me. Their eyes move across my body like coyotes eyeing their prey.

  “Hey,” one of them barks. “What’s your name?”

  But before I can answer, Tressa saves me. She comes racing back to my side, takes my hand and starts pulling me toward the bar. I almost fall in my five-inch heels. How do girls walk in these? Give me my flats any day.

  “Oh my God, you lucked out, bitch. I found you a gorgeous guy. He’s playing all hard to get, saying he doesn’t want a lap dance, but when he sees you, he’ll change his mind.”

  Yeah, unless he doesn’t, I think. I guess I should be grateful that my first customer is going to be good-looking, but now the pressure is on. I
’d almost rather dance for a creep with low expectations. I take a deep breath and stand up straight, doing my best to make my boobs look good. Tressa pulls me forward, and when I see him, all the air goes out of my lungs.

  I’ve only ever seen men like him in magazines. He’s leaning against the bar in a tight t-shirt that looks like it’s ready to tear around his thick, strong arms. He’s got muscles I don’t even know the names of. He’s sitting, but I can tell he’s tall just by looking at him.

  My nervousness reaches a whole new level and I pull against Tressa’s hand.

  “Tressa! Tressa, no! No, I can’t!”

  “Yes you can, bitch,” she hisses. “Stop making a scene!”

  She practically drags me over to his side, where another two girls are doing their best to get his attention. But he’s completely ignoring them. His eyes are fixed right on me.

  He has the face of a model. What’s a guy like him doing in a place like this? He should be in front of a camera somewhere, sweeping girls from Milan off their feet.

  “Maximus, this is Roxy. Roxy, this is Maximus.”

  Maximus? Did she really just say that?

  The gorgeous man grunts out a laugh. “Call me Max…Roxy.”

  “So…do you two want to get out of here?” Tressa asks. I feel like a show pony being put on display. I’m sweating. This is worse than when I sang for my 4th grade talent show. “Maybe go into the back for a dance? I know you said you didn’t want one, Max, but now that you see her—”

  “Yes,” Maximus barks. He gets to his feet, towering over me, and steps so close that I can smell his sweat. Something stirs within me as he looks me up and down. “We are going to get out of here.” He nods.

  “Great!” Tressa exclaims. “I’ll show you to the booths—”

  “No,” he says firmly. “Not the booths. Out of here.”

  Tressa glances nervously over at me and then back to him. “You mean…out of the club?”

  Still keeping his eyes on me, Maximus shows the tiniest hint of a smile. His eyes flash, causing my heart to flutter. He nods. “You’re goddamn right I do.”

  2

  Maximus

  Who is this little minx?

  Strip clubs aren’t my thing. I didn’t even want to come here tonight, but after my win, my trainer, Elmore, wanted to take me out before my fight tomorrow. He’s got this theory that seeing naked girls gets your testosterone up which will make me kick ass tomorrow. As long as I don’t get off, that is.

  See, I’m a bareknuckle boxing champion. I have a match tomorrow against Crazy Carl, who is a real tough son of a bitch. The purse is big – forty thousand – and I need the win. I figured I’d grab two drinks and duck the slimy girls trying to milk me out of my hard-earned cash; I never expected to run into a girl like this.

  I’m curious. While the rest of the girls are all in lingerie, she’s still wearing her dress. Either she’s a veteran with a shtick, or she’s new and doesn’t know what she’s doing, and by the look in her eyes and the way she’s shaking, I’d put all my money on the latter.

  A new girl, and the other chick is obviously her friend putting pressure on her. But if she thinks I’m going to take her out back for a lap dance and then send her back to work, she’s fucking dreaming.

  There’s something in her eyes that has me captivated. What’s a girl like her doing here? Doesn’t she have a father – a boyfriend looking out for her?

  “Where’s your man?” I bark, causing them both to jump.

  “My – my man?” Her voice is just as perfect as her looks, which have my cock throbbing between my thighs. Normally, I keep my shit together pretty well, but this girl has me beside myself. I want to do things to her – things I’ve never done with any girl before.

  “Your boyfriend. Where is he? He know you’re doing this?”

  “Mind your business!” her friend, “Anastasia,” snaps. “This isn’t Tinder, all right? Do you want the dance or not?”

  “Not,” I snap, my eyes still on “Roxy.” Fucking stripper names.

  “Okay, then we’re leaving—”

  She turns to leave, but Roxy doesn’t move. She has to know what she’s doing to me with those eyes, doesn’t she? Sexy little minx…

  “Your boyfriend wouldn’t want you stripping. You lie to him? Tell him you’re having a girls’ night?”

  She lifts her chin at me. “I don’t lie. He knows what I’m doing.”

  Her body is mocking me – daring me to make a move. Her dress could not be any tighter. I can see everything, even the shape of her pussy. I want to taste her…bury my face between those heavenly thighs.

  “Then he’s a shit boyfriend,” I growl. “Letting you do something like this.”

  “Hey!” her friend whines. “Who do you—?”

  “Ten grand to get out of here with me now.” It’s all the money I have in the world, and I don’t know what’s come over me, but I’m willing to put it all on the line for her right now.

  Her breath catches in her chest. Her tits bounce and my cock pulses with desire. I feel like I’ve been hit by the hardest punch I’ve ever taken.

  “What did you just say?” Anastasia asks.

  “Ten grand,” I repeat. “And we leave here. Now.”

  Roxy finally pulls her eyes away from mine and looks at her friend. She’s suspicious. She should be. Men who make these kinds of offers are usually scum. I don’t want to spend the money, but I will. I’d drag her out of here kicking and screaming if it wouldn’t bring the cops running.

  The girls whisper to each other and turn back to me. “Fine,” Anastasia says. “But I’m coming with her. For protection.”

  I burst out laughing. “Protection? Sweetheart, you’re 115 pounds soaking wet. Look at me. You really think you could do anything to stop me?”

  She just glares back at me, unafraid. I respect that. “Who says I don’t carry, big boy? Does mace not work on you?”

  I shrug. She wants to play tough, so I’ll let her. I don’t give a fuck about her; all I want to do right now is get Roxy out of here. I move so quickly that she flinches as I take her hand. It’s warm. She’s sweating. I smile down at her.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

  I lead her toward the front door, but Anastasia stops me. “Wait, our things. We have to get them from the locker room. Meet us in the back parking lot.”

  “Fine. But don’t keep me waiting.”

  I watch as they scurry off together, my little minx barely able to walk in her heels. Yeah, she’s new. What’s her man thinking letting her come to work here? He doesn’t deserve her. I’d give him a smack that would teach him a fucking lesson.

  Elmore is face-deep in some girl’s ass as he throws dollar bills onto the side stage, so I just leave him be and head outside to my car. I start it up and pull around to the back lot just as the girls are coming out. Anastasia comes up to the door and knocks on the glass. I roll the window down.

  “Let’s see the money. We’re not going anywhere with you until we see it.”

  She’s smart. I reach into the glove box and pull out the stack, wrapped in a crinkled up brown paper bag, and show it to her. “If you want to count it, we’ll be here for a while.”

  She snatches it from me and frowns, then glances at Roxy. Mentally, I undress her…spread her legs open and tease her pussy with my hard cock. A little bit of pleasure would calm those nerves right away.

  My cock flexes again, and I almost dump my load in my pants as I think about it.

  Fuck, what her cunt must feel like…

  “Fine,” Anastasia says as she opens the back door to my car and they slide in. “But we’re not fucking you. We’re not whores, so don’t get any threesome ideas into your head. Okay?”

  “That’s fine, I don’t want you,” I reply as I hit the gas. I glance in the rear view at Roxy, the only girl I give two shits about now. “I want her.”

  3

  Samantha

  I’m still shaking. I w
ant to ask Anastasia to bonk me over the head with a big stick so I’ll have something to focus on other than the gorgeous man and the insane arrangement we just made with him.

  Ten thousand dollars. It’s a lot of money. My share of the rent for the next nine months. But why is he doing this? If he thinks I’m going to have sex with him, he’s got another think coming. I don’t care how muscled his body is or how strong his jaw; I’m not for sale.

  I’ve got my integrity. If I’m going to have sex with someone, it’s going to be because I want to – because I feel that spark that lets me know I’m making the right choice.

  But I can’t feel anything right now. Anything other than the cold chill running through my arms. My fingers are practically numb, so I stuff them under my legs to warm them up.

  I glance at Tressa as she counts the money. As long as this guy doesn’t turn out to be a murderer with a pit in his basement, all we have to do is make sure the night goes smoothly and we’ll be all set.

  I hope…

  “This boyfriend of yours,” Maximus says from the front seat. “What is he? Some little boy or something?”

  “Ew, I wouldn’t date a little boy.”

  He shakes his head. “You must be, because no real man would let a girl like you shake her stuff at some sleazy strip club.”

  For some reason, my first instinct is to get defensive, but then I realize how stupid that is. Richard is just Tyler’s friend that Tressa picked out for me. It’s not like we dated and fell in love or something. And it’s also not like I’m actually a stripper or have any emotional connection to the job. What do I care? Tressa, however, takes offense.