by Penelope Sky
Fighter in Lingerie
Lingerie #14
Penelope Sky
Hartwick Publishing
Fighter in Lingerie
Copyright © 2018 by Penelope Sky
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.
1
Carmen
I sold my soul to the devil.
The second I was his, he claimed me so thoroughly I could barely breathe. His hold was tight, gripping me so my lungs couldn’t expand with my deep breathing. He didn’t touch me, just gave me his fierce expression before he walked out.
Then he ordered me to grab my things.
I spent the evening packing all the essentials. I grabbed my clothes, makeup, hair supplies, birth control, my favorite shoes and boots, and everything else I would need on a daily basis. I suspected I would come back to my apartment from time to time, just in case someone stopped by to see me.
I couldn’t just move out.
I placed my luggage in the doorway then opened another bottle of wine. It was almost midnight and I was usually in bed by now, but my evening had been unusual. Bosco, the owner of the city, came to my apartment and basically bought me.
Actually, he’d leased me for three months.
Now I would be his exclusively, fucking him every night and sharing his space like some kind of mistress. The idea of spending more time with him didn’t upset me since I knew it had an expiration date.
But I feared he wouldn’t honor our agreement.
What if he became more obsessed with me, and despite our original agreement, he would take it all back? He would hold on to me even tighter and refuse to let me go? There would be no escape from this madman.
I would be doomed.
His footsteps were audible on the other side of the door. He could announce his presence so easily, because every part of him was loud. From his heavy footsteps to his aggressive persona, his threatening vibrancy filled the air.
He stepped inside and surveyed the bags of essentials ready to be taken away.
I drank my wine at the counter without looking at him.
Bosco communicated silently with his men, and four of them stepped into my apartment and gathered my things. They moved stealthily, barely making a sound as they left the apartment and carried my belongings down the hallway and to one of the cars.
Bosco came to my side and pressed his chest into my shoulder. His arm hooked around my waist, and he looked down at me, a slight smile on his lips because he’d won the battle. His hand slowly moved up my back and neck until his fingers dug under the fall of my hair. He turned my face toward him, making me stare into his gaze. “This will be the best three months of your life. I promise you.”
His smell and masculine presence immediately made me feel feminine, made me naturally want to submit to this strong man. My body constantly felt the pull of his gravitational field, wanting to be sucked deep inside and never released. “But will it only be three months?”
His eyes looked into mine, his gaze searing. “That’s the deal we made.”
“But will you honor it?”
He gave me that lopsided grin. “You don’t trust me.”
“Why would I?” I asked coldly.
“Because I’ve been honest since the beginning.” His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. “I’ve never thrown you a curveball and I never will.”
“That’s not enough for me.”
“Then what do you want?” he asked, still amused. “A contract? A notary?” He chuckled, thinking the suggestion comical.
It was better than nothing. “Yes.”
He raised an eyebrow, his smile slowly fading. “You’re serious?”
“Yes.” Maybe it was a stupid thing to ask for, but if he backed out later, at least I had something to make an argument with. I could throw his signature in his face and prove that he was a liar—and had no honor.
The menace started to shine in his eyes, his heartless anger slowly rising. “In my world, you’re only as good as your word. If you break it, people will lose respect for you. That’s why I punish the men who cross me—because I have to keep my word. No one gets away with any crime. They all face the same fate. This is no different. If this is the deal we agreed on, I will fulfill my end of the bargain.”
“Then you should have no trouble putting it in writing,” I countered. “With a witness.”
He turned quiet, slightly annoyed and slightly amused. “You think I’d bring anyone else into this? My personal life is private.”
“You said you have a brother you run the casino with.”
His silence was enough of an acknowledgment.
“I want him to be the witness.”
He rubbed his fingers across the stubble of his chin, his eyes shining with disdain. “Will this really make you feel better?”
“Yes. Because I know you don’t want to look like a liar in front of the only family you’ve got left.” Regardless of how close they were, Bosco must care about the opinion his brother had of him. If he were a psychopath that wouldn’t let me go, even though he promised he would, he’d look like an asshole. “It’s accountability.”
“Fine. If that’s what you want, you can have it. But I’m disappointed you think this is necessary.”
I gripped the glass in my hand, about to shatter it. “You threatened to kill my father if I didn’t become your personal slave.”
“I never said you were a slave. I just said you were mine—big difference.”
“I see no difference,” I said coldly.
“You’ll be treated like a queen—that’s the difference.”
“Doesn’t change anything,” I said. “You gave me an ultimatum.”
“And then you brought my mother into this.” It didn’t matter how quick the pace of the conversation was, he could keep up easily. He always fired back with an answer, his brain working at an impressive speed.
“It was the only option I had.”
“But then you compromised. We reached three months—together.”
“What else could I have done?”
He grabbed the glass from my hand and set it on the counter, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. He moved in closer to me, close enough that his breath fell on my skin. He made me rise on my toes because the tension settled over both of us like a cloud. He suffocated me with his presence, with his overbearing masculinity. “You could have pressed for your freedom. You used my mother against me, and you could have squeezed more out of me. We both know it. But you didn’t. You settled for a compromise—because you wanted a compromise.”
I turned to face him head on, shocked by the allegation. “So, you think I want this?”
“I know you do,” he said confidently. “A woman like you only does something if she wants to. You want this. You want me—just not forever. You want to enjoy me, knowing there’s a way out. You know I’m not the right man for you, but this alleviates your guilt. It’s fine if you don’t want to say it out loud. I can’t blame you. But we both know that’s the case.” He pulled away abruptly, ending the conversation with the cold shoulder. “Let’s go.” He walked into the hallway without waiting for me.
I stayed at the counter and stared at the bottle of wine I didn’t get to finish. A dread descended into my stomach because his analysis was right. A part of me wanted to be his woman, to keep this level of invincibility I’d become addicted to. I wanted good sex without having to find it. I wanted a man so powerful no other man could match him. But I also wanted to walk away…without taking a
ny responsibility for the time I’d wasted. Would I say that to him? Never.
I’d take it to the grave.
Bosco pulled his shirt over his head the second he was inside the bedroom. He tossed it on the back of the chair that faced the desk and moved about the room in just his jeans and belt. His muscles shifted and worked together, rippling under the tanned skin as he walked to the large closet against one of the walls. He pulled it open, revealing empty hangers on the bar where I could hang my clothes. “Help yourself.” He walked into the bathroom, pretending all of this was normal, and shut the door to brush his teeth and wash his face.
I opened the first suitcase and started to hang my tops and jeans, but that’s when I noticed the short cocktail dresses, pumps, and other clothing toward the right side of the closet. I stared at a black strapless dress and a pair of red pumps. There was also a piece of black lingerie hanging next to it.
None of that stuff was mine.
Did it belong to an old lover? Did he lie when he said he didn’t have a relationship? Had someone else ever lived here? Or did they simply leave their clothes behind and went home in his t-shirt?
I kept hanging up my clothes, doing my best not to give a damn what the story was. Whoever shared his bed before me was irrelevant. I didn’t care, and I never would care. I set my shoes on the shelves then closed the doors, hiding the other dresses from view.
It was late, so I opened one of his drawers and pulled on one of his shirts he wore around the house. The material was something I’d never felt before, such soft cotton it was like wearing a cloud. Even though it was clean, it smelled like him, his cologne and whatever soap he used in the shower. If someone could capture that smell and put it in a bottle, they could slap the word masculine on it and have a new fragrance line.
I got into his large bed and set the alarm on my phone so I would be on time for work in the morning. Sometimes I had to get there early because I had shipments come in. At this time of year, it was too cold for the more exotic flowers to bloom, so they had to be imported.
Bosco emerged from the bathroom, finished with his nightly routine. He ran his hand through his hair as he approached the bed, sighing quietly like there was something on his mind. He grabbed his alarm on the nightstand and checked a few things before he stripped off all his clothes and got into bed beside me.
He usually slept in his boxers, so the fact that he stripped down completely meant he thought he was gonna get some.
Wasn’t gonna happen.
He pressed his chest against my back and kissed the curve of my shoulder, his enormous erection pressed right in between my cheeks.
I wondered how many times he’d done that with someone else. He said I was the only woman he’d screwed without a condom, but was that a lie? He had an entire wardrobe in the closet—and none of it was mine. “I’m tired.” Like an irritated wife, I dismissed him and closed my eyes, hoping he would back off and go to sleep.
“Then just lie there.” He grabbed my arm and turned me over onto my back. “I don’t mind doing all the work, Beautiful.”
The nickname irritated me even more. How many times had he used that nickname in the past? “Well, I don’t want it. Good night.” I pushed him in the chest then turned over again, hoping the tension would fade as we drifted off to sleep.
He continued to hover next to me, looking at me with bubbling disappointment. His hand moved over my hip and down my thigh, subtly caressing me. He didn’t turn me over and try again, but he couldn’t keep his hands off me. “What is it?” His voice emerged deep and hostile, not seductive like it was a second ago.
“I’m tired.”
He sighed quietly, annoyed by my answer. “I’m always honest with you. Be honest with me.”
“Ha,” I said sarcastically. “You’re always honest with me, huh?” I sat up and looked at him over my shoulder. “Whatever you say, jackass.” I lay down again, giving him the coldest shoulder I’d ever had in my life.
He dropped his hand from my hip. “Carmen, what is it?” He pressed more firmly, only using his voice for authority. “Because you’re mistaken about whatever you think happened. So, just tell me.”
“I’m not mistaken,” I said coldly. “Not everyone is gullible like the rest of your men. Not everyone will bow down to you just because you have money.”
“People don’t bow down to me because of my money,” he said matter-of-factly. “They bow because of my absolute power. I can take away people’s homes in a heartbeat. I can call off the police with a simple text message. I can overrule a court hearing after a short visit to the judge. They bow because I own every single inch of this city, from the sewers to the cathedrals. You’re no different. Now, tell me what the problem is. When we came home, everything was fine. But something has set you off in the meantime. What is it?”
“Home?” I scoffed. “This is not home.”
“It is—for the next three months.” He grabbed me by the arm and jerked me onto my back again. This time, he pinned me down with his body, making me sink into the mattress. He pressed his face close to mine, his expression hardened with a look of rage. “I’m tired of your games. Tell me.”
“I’m not playing games,” I whispered. “You are.”
His eyes flashed with hostility. “I’ve always admired you for speaking your mind. But now you’re playing coy, and I don’t like it. It’s not your most attractive color. The only reason you aren’t telling me is because you’re embarrassed by it. And I don’t like a woman who gets embarrassed.”
Those words burned me to my core. I shouldn’t be offended by anything he said, not when I didn’t care about his opinion. But that felt like a slap to the face. “I’m not embarrassed…” My throat shifted when I swallowed, slightly uneasy about the way he could read me so well.
“Then tell me so we can fuck and go to sleep.” He moved off me, his dangerous eyes trained on me. They thudded with animosity, like he wanted to wrap his hands around my neck and choke me. The only thing keeping him back was his promise to me.
I moved out of bed and walked to the closet where all my things were stored. I opened the doors and turned on the lights inside, highlighting the dozen dresses and shoes that were there long before I opened the doors.
He was propped on one elbow, his thick arm chiseled with muscles. His biceps were distinct from his triceps. His shoulders were thick and round, and his arm practically looked like arm porn. He continued to wear the same cold expression, like the sight of those clothes meant nothing to him.
“One of your girls left these behind.” I left the door open and crossed my arms over my chest, wanting to see the terror in his face.
But it never came.
“It seems like you’ve had more intimate relationships than you’ve let on…”
Slowly, a slightly lopsided grin stretched across his face. His eyes lit up with amusement, and all the anger that was once in his expression faded away.
I waited for an explanation, continuing to stand my ground. “Well?”
He chuckled as he rubbed his fingers across the stubble of his chin.
“Yes?” I pressed.
“I want to enjoy this a little longer…” His grin stretched wider, becoming a full-blown smile that was so handsome, I was irritated. His eyes shone with joy, like everything I said was innately pleasing to him.
The fear started to creep into my veins. Perhaps there was something missing, and I was so tired and stressed I didn’t notice it. “Enjoy what?”
He chuckled again before he dropped his smile. “You’re so damn jealous.”
“I’m not—”
“Jesus Christ, it’s sexy. Sexiest thing ever.” He got out of bed and moved toward me, his muscles shifting as he made his way toward me. His thick arms hung by his sides, but once he was close enough to me, they reached out and grabbed me. He lifted me into the air and wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me back to bed.
“Whose are they?” I demanded, my back hittin
g the sheets and my thighs falling apart as he conquered me like a tyrant.
He pulled my panties to the side and pressed his cock inside me with a smooth motion, grinning because I was wet like usual and there was no way to hide it. He sank until he was completely inside me, his balls tapping against my ass. “Yours.” He kissed me softly, consoling me for my loss in the skirmish. He slowly thrust inside me, feeling every inch of my cunt with his long dick. “I bought those for you.”
When I woke up the next morning, Bosco had already left the bed. The sheets felt cold, and that was probably why I woke up five minutes before my alarm went off. I jumped into the shower and got ready for the day, doing my normal routine in the master bathroom that was bigger than my kitchen and living room put together. There were two large sinks and plenty of counter space, along with a shower that could fit twenty refrigerators.
This would be my life every day for three months.
I pulled on jeans, a gray sweater, and an olive-green jacket before I walked into the main area of the penthouse. My hair was in loose curls, and I wore earrings my mother got me for my twenty-first birthday.
Bosco was in the kitchen, wearing black sweatpants that hung so low on his hips that I could see the dramatic V embedded in the muscles of his eight-pack. His stubble was thicker than it was the night before, his hair growing quickly since he still hadn’t shaved.
I wasn’t sure what look I preferred more—shaved or not shaved.
He scooped everything out of the pan and put it on the two plates before he carried it to the dining table that was placed in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. With his tanned skin and perfect physique, he looked too beautiful to be real. I’d never seen a man more in shape in my life. My brother and cousin were fit, but Bosco was something else. He was ripped to the point it seemed unreal.
He set two mugs of coffee on the table. “Hungry?”
I looked at the breakfast he made, salmon with veggies. If I kept eating like this, I was going to be fifteen pounds lighter—and that wasn’t a goal of mine. I never cared about my weight. Whether I was heavier or lighter, it didn’t change my life too much. It didn’t seem like men cared either. “Yeah.” I didn’t want to sound ungrateful that he cooked for me, so I sat down and grabbed my fork.