Tap Out: BTU Alumni Series Book #2

by Ciz, Alley

  “Why ping-pong?” he asked after they volleyed back and forth a dozen times or so.

  “For you, your girl will tell you it’s a good way to stay loose while focusing on your hand-eye coordination and keeping you light on your feet.” Jake sent the white ball whizzing past him for the first point of the game. “And for me, my darling wife taught me it was a good way to hone my glove-saving skills.” He gave Jordan a wink that made her blush.

  “Ahhh.” He was able to put a nice backspin on the ball to earn himself his first point. “Now it makes sense why you’re playing lefty.”

  The ping-pong game originally meant to be an easygoing way to stay loose, steadily increased in intensity as they traded points back and forth. Rocky scolded him a few times that he was supposed to be taking it easy.

  He put on a good show but eventually he was trounced by the hockey player.

  * * *

  Rocky got ready in one of the other rooms of the suite to avoid disturbing Gage while he took his final pre-fight nap. She dressed in a pair of stone-washed skinny jeans and a tight, black v-neck t-shirt. To show her support, her shirt had a gray screen-printed octopus on the right side, whose tentacles stretched across the front and back.

  Her makeup for the night was on point—a subtle smoky eye and sharply winged liner made her gray eyes pop and a fierce blood red lip stain completed the look. Now to deal with what felt like a Rapunzel amount of hair.

  Grabbing her blow dryer and paddle brush, she flipped her head over and set to work blowing out her long locks. Her nerves were finally starting to set in as the clock ticked closer to the actual fight. For weeks, she had been shoving them down, assuring herself Gage had it under control.

  “So this is where you’re hiding.” Gage’s amused voice startled her, causing her to jump and whip her head up to face him.

  “Jesus.” Her hand flew to cover her erratically beating heart while he watched her with a smirk. She switched off the blow dryer, silencing it so she wouldn’t have to shout over the sound.

  “You okay there, Blue?”

  Gah! Why does he have to be so damn sexy?

  He had his shoulder propped against the doorjamb, arms and ankles crossed, blue eyes sparkling like he knew exactly what sort of effect he had on her.

  “Peachy,” she deadpanned. She ran her hand through her hair, smoothing it around her face.

  “Fuck, you look hot, babe.” He pushed off the door, staring her down as he walked toward her. His hands came around to cup her face, his long fingers tangling in her hair. One of his thumbs stretched out to rub along her bottom lip and her eyes closed at the touch. “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you wear red lipstick?” His voice turned husky and his eyes darkened as he stared at her mouth.

  Her tongue slipped out to moisten her lips as she got lost in the spell of his words, and she swore he let out a growl when it touched the pad of his finger.

  “Well…” She had to clear her own lust from her voice before she could continue. “Seeing as I’m best friends with a romance author, I think I have a general idea. But maybe after successfully defending your belt, you can tell me all your fantasies”—she pushed onto her toes so her mouth was at his ear—“in explicit detail.”

  “Fuck.” The curse was strained as he crushed his lips to hers, her nipples straining toward his chest and his dick erect against her belly.

  “And maybe I’ll see about making a few of them come true,” she finished when he finally released her mouth. Thank god for long-wear lip stain, otherwise the two of them would look like they could be related to The Joker.

  “You’re such a damn tease,” he said on a laugh.

  “It’s only a tease if I don’t follow through.” She paused to meet his eyes. “And I damn well plan on it.”

  His husky laughter followed her out of the room as she pulled on her stiletto-heeled, knee-high leather boots.

  “Shit, Rock, you’re breaking the rules,” Jordan said as she entered the suite while Rocky finished zipping up the second boot.

  Her eyes tracked over the flat soles of her friend’s riding boots. It was an unwritten rule in their group that taller members—meaning herself and Skye—were only able to wear heels if the short ones did. It was one of the longest running jokes between them. Maddey almost always wore heels, so they were generally safe when going out with her.

  “There’s always time to change before we need to be there,” she offered since they didn’t need to be at the arena for the last of the promotional shots for another hour.

  Because of the beating most fighters took in the octagon, they took photos of the fighters holding the championship belt before the actual fight. As long as the night went as planned, it would be Cutler's only opportunity to get a picture with the belt.

  Around the room, people prepared for the fight. Rocky made sure she had everything packed to wrap Gage’s hands and her dad checked for fight and injury equipment. Since she was dating Gage and had unwittingly been the catalyst that led to the rematch, she thought it best not to be one of his cornermen for the fight. Instead, she would watch from the seats with the rest of their friends.

  The other guys from the gym would be there to cheer him on ringside, including her brother and Jase.

  By the time Gage stepped into the room in a pair of black joggers and a black t-shirt with a replica of his tattoo on the front and “Release The Kraken” stamped across the back, everyone else was ready.

  Time to get this show on the road.

  Chapter Forty

  With the dog and pony show of pre-fight activity over and the traditional good luck exchange with his parents done, Gage sat on a padded table, his hot AF girlfriend standing between his spread thighs, though not in the way he longed for, while he attempted to marshal his thoughts and get his head in the game. He needed to focus on the beatdown he planned to dish out to The Cutter and not how much he wanted to peel the curve-hugging cotton from Rocky’s body and bury his face in the mounds of her chest.

  He was totally thinking about the best strategy for beating The Cutter a second time and not how ball-tinglingly good it felt when those ruby lips were stretched around the girth of his cock.

  And without a doubt, he was mentally replaying his first fight with The Cutter when he took the belt for the first time and not plotting the fastest way to get her pants peeled from her body, have her lifted into his arms, and fuck her against a wall. He was so primed he doubted they would make it to a bed for their first time.

  But seriously, he needed to start doing all that and ignore the sweet scent of blueberries wafting from her hair as it fell in front of her face while she wrapped his hands. If he didn’t, he was going to have a very obvious situation going on—way more than what the officials were there to witness.

  Once his hands were signed, he slouched back against the wall behind the table, hooking a finger through one of her belt loops and tugging her with him. Curling a finger under her chin, he angled it up so he could claim those tempting berry lips.

  “Fuck, woman.” He spoke against her lips so only she could hear. “You are pure temptation.”

  He felt her mouth stretch into a smile against his before she pulled away. There was still a lingering sense of unease between them, but he hoped his plans for after the fight would dispel them once and for all.

  “Okay, then.” Her hands curved over each of his bent knees. “My job here is done. I’m going out to watch a few of the other fights. I’ll see you after you raise this above your head again.” She patted the gold plated and leather championship belt on the table beside him.

  Part of him was worried about her heading out through the tunnels, but Nick and Damon were waiting to walk back with her.

  “Come on.” Papa Steele clapped him on the shoulder. “Go do some shadowboxing. Get loose and out of your head.”

  He'd made the right choice in picking Vic Steele as his new coach. The guy didn’t miss a beat, able to read what was going on in his head—
at least when it came to fighting, and thankfully not about his daughter—knowing exactly what to say to pull him back into the headspace he needed to bring home another victory.

  There was no way he was losing his belt tonight.

  * * *

  This was the first time Rocky had traveled with the team from The Steele Maker and not watched as a cornerman. Sure, her seat in the block where her friends sat was in the front row and practically on top of the cornermen and support team, but it wasn’t the same as being a part of the action as it was happening.

  It was her suggestion that she wasn’t cornering for Gage, not wanting to be a distraction or add to the animosity already surrounding the fight. But she didn't like it.

  She wanted to focus on the Welterweight fight currently taking place in the cage, but it wasn’t doing anything to distract her from the butterflies swirling in her stomach.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Becky said, pulling free the section of hair she had been worrying around her fingers.

  “I know,” she said, blowing out a breath.

  Her friend looked at her like she didn’t believe her. “Yeah, right. Real convincing.”

  She tried to maintain eye contact but failed miserably.

  “What’s bugging you?”

  “I don’t know, Beck. I just feel like this is all new for me. But it shouldn’t be. I watch Vince fight all the time. It’s not like I’m not used to watching someone I care about take a few punches.”

  Becky studied her for a long moment before speaking. “That may be true…but this is the first time you were in love with the person taking a beating.”

  Her friend might be on to something.

  “How’d you get to be so smart?”

  Becky put an arm around her in support, her head bobbing as her friend shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

  The fight in front of them concluded and the octagon mat was cleared of as much blood as possible as things got set for the main event. The atmosphere inside the arena grew charged with anticipation.

  The Jumbotron above the octagon started to play the hype reel the UFC had put together to promote the fight on the pay-per-view televised broadcast. Rocky was surprised to see shots of herself in the footage. She cast a knowing look back at Jordan when she saw footage of Gage doing pull-ups and pushups with her weighting him down.

  The reel included clips from Gage and Cutler’s first fight, cut between voiceovers of commentators boasting how this was the fight the world had been waiting for.

  The video ended with the heated showdown from weigh-ins the day before and the crowd lost its collective mind with excitement.

  As the challenger, The Cutter was first to make his grand entrance into the arena, cheers and boos greeting him as he did.

  From across the cage, she watched as he preened for the crowd like a complete douche and finished his prep for the fight.

  Once that was complete, the first notes of Gage’s new entrance music blared through the arena. Sammy’s remix sounded even more intense played at concert volume than it did playing from his phone.

  Where the crowd was a mix of emotions for The Cutter, it was clear The Kraken was who they were pulling for, the cheers in the arena exponentially louder.

  Even standing over six feet in her heels, she was unable to see him through the crush of people forming a human barricade around him. Luckily, the giant screens around the arena allowed her to see her man, looking like a total badass with his buzzed hair, bulging muscles straining against his t-shirt, and scowling fight face.

  Vince carried the championship belt over his shoulder as the group from The Steele Maker made their way out with Gage toward the octagon.

  Like Cutler had done, he stripped down to his black fighting shorts, waited for the cut man to apply Vaseline to his face, and submitted himself for a final inspection before stepping into the cage.

  Unlike her brother, Gage was never known to posture for the crowd. When he entered the cage, he did raise both hands above his hand to acknowledge his fans but quickly switched to moving around to stay loose. The cheers for The Champ reached deafening levels as he did so.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.”

  The fight announcer’s voice cut through the noise of the crowd.

  “This is the main event of the evening.”

  He ran down the list of judges and other pertinent UFC information, introducing the referee and ending with the fight sponsors.

  “Aaaaand now. This is the moment you have truly been waiting for. The rematch two years in the making. Live from the sold-out T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, we have a fight to decide who will take home the UFC Heavyweight Championship belt.”

  The sold-out crowd let out an ear-splitting roar.

  “Introducing first, fighting out of the Blue Corner. Standing at six foot five inches, coming in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, fighting out of Brooklyn, New York, coming to reclaim his title as the Heavyweight Champ of the world. The challenger, Curtis ‘The Cutter’ Cutler.”

  This time the boos drowned out any cheers.

  “Now fighting out of the Red Corner with an impressive undefeated record. Standing at six foot seven inches, coming in at two hundred and sixty-three pounds, now fighting out of The Steele Maker in New Jersey. I present to you your current, reigning, undisputed UFC Heavyweight Champion of the World, here to defend once again the title he took over two years ago from The Cutter himself, Gage ‘The Kraken’ James.”

  She screamed herself hoarse cheering on her man.

  The referee inside the ring reiterated the rules with the fighters. When he asked if they wanted to tap gloves, Gage kept his arms resolutely at his sides. The Cutter said something as he stepped back into place, and though she couldn’t hear the words, she didn’t miss the way Gage’s body visibly tensed.

  The ref made the call.

  It was time to fight.

  Ding-ding.

  Chapter Forty-One

  The roar of the crowd.

  The bumping bass of the music.

  The changing and fading lights.

  The booming cadence of the announcer’s voice, all came together to paint the stage for the gladiator match about to take place inside a seven hundred and fifty square foot octagon.

  The crowd cheered and fans reached out trying to touch him, but that all barely registered as Gage walked with Papa Steele and his team. Instead, every cell in his body was locked on a single-minded focus of how he was minutes away from finally, finally, being able to give The Cutter the beatdown he deserved.

  This wasn’t going to be anything like their last fight. He was so keyed up, the only reason he wouldn’t lay the guy out the second he stepped inside the cage was because he had a lesson to teach. Then he would put the guy down.

  He went down the line, sharing knuckle bumps and bro handshakes with Deck, Ray, Griff, and Jase, saving Vince for last.

  “You remind this fucker why you were able to take the belt from him in the first place,” Vince said to him before bumping him with his knuckles twice, like he had seen him do with Rocky before his own fight.

  “Don’t hold back,” Jase said with a nod to the cage behind him. “You teach this pussy a thing or two about why we don’t disrespect women.”

  “Already planning on it,” he said with a smile that promised a world of hurt.

  “And if you wanted to get in an extra hit or two for me, I wouldn’t complain.”

  “Didn’t spend enough time in the sin bin after your own fight yesterday?” He quirked a brow.

  “You’re the only one allowed to drop the gloves—metaphorically speaking—with the asshat, so sue me for wanting to live vicariously.”

  Playtime over, he stood for the UFC’s cut man’s inspection, and stepped inside the cage, more than ready to drive home proper morals.

  It wasn’t a requirement for fighters to touch gloves at the start of a fight, so when the referee gave the opening to do so, there wasn’t a chance in hell he wo
uld be giving The Cutter the respect of doing it. If there was ever any doubt he didn’t deserve it, it was reconfirmed when the scumbag leaned in for one last parting shot before the bell. “After I knock you out, I’ll celebrate by fucking your girl.”

  Dead.

  The man was dead.

  Ding-ding.

  Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he circled the cage, waiting for Cutler to make the first move. In their last matchup, they went almost the full five rounds before he won with a submission tap out. Not tonight. He was about to own The Cutter.

  Cutler’s eyes betrayed his surprise when Gage didn't rush him. It was obvious Cutler thought his taunts and slurs were enough to goad him into reacting out of anger. Instead, he chose to let it fuel him for when he did make his move and fought smart. He had a reputation for getting hit in the face less often than other fighters, and he planned to maintain that tonight so he could keep his post-fight plans with Rocky.

  He gave a come on motion with his hand. As if on cue, Cutler charged him, arm cocked back too early, allowing him to block it with ease and land an uppercut to his jaw.

  Cutler stumbled back a few steps and Gage let him go, falling back to bounce on the balls of his feet again. Still, he didn’t make a move, letting Cutler come at him again for another easy deflection, this one ending with Cutler taking a roundhouse kick to the ribs.

  Minutes passed with them performing their little dance. The Cutter was able to land a few rare body shots, but Gage blocked or stepped out of everything else. Cutler’s frustration visibly increased with each second that ticked away in the first round.

  Done with this game, he made the decision to end it before the round was over. On The Cutter’s next charge, he angled his body, putting his shoulder into the guy's armpit and hooking his arm up around his neck. Dipping his own shoulder, he turned his back and took two steps into Cutler’s body, getting into position for a hip throw takedown—the judo move he'd trained to perfection under Vic Steele’s tutelage.