Yeah, I’ve got something for you, too, I think, and stop myself from grabbing my groin and thrusting my hips in her direction out of instinct.
When I meet my opponent in the center of the cage, the ref checks our taped hands. We touch them together and the bell rings so quietly I almost miss it, and nearly get knocked out without even a second on the clock. Stepping out of his reach, I dance just past his outstretched arm. He tosses a few more jabs in my direction, no doubt judging my skill, and I back away each time his fist comes toward me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Josette offer a man in the crowd a warm smile, and it’s enough to distract me for the second my opponent needs to land a punch on my jaw. Stumbling backward, I right myself just before he advances for his next combination and take advantage of his stance.
Rushing toward his middle, I attack his center of gravity and take him to the mat.
“Take his arm, Cutter,” Garrett screams on the other side of the chain link. It’s not his arm I want—I’m going for the jugular, in a way. I want nothing more than for him to tap the mat, give up, and go home without the purse and definitely without the girl.
Don’t let the fight consume you. The memory of Rian’s words and Garrett’s encouragement ring loudly over the excitement in the cage. Trying to shake Rian’s tagline from my head, I’m distracted long enough for this asshole to get one over on me.
He counters, I lose my footing, and it’s me who winds up on my back. Fighting to stop him from getting a full mount, I lose the battle when his legs straddle my waist.
Nope. I’m not going out like this. Think, Cutter. Get out, Cutter. Win, Cutter. Get that prize from Josette, Cutter. I keep chanting these things in my head until I realize his weakness. Smiling, I offer a counter of my own…and shove him completely off me. Standing and righting my balance immediately, I don’t waste a single second while he tries to recover.
While his back’s to me, I rush him like a furious bull seeing red, sliding into him and wrapping my legs around his middle. Before he has a moment to react, I have him locked in my crosshairs. Getting my forearm around his throat, the inner crease of my elbow cradling his Adam’s apple, I squeeze so tight the veins in my arm strain against the skin, and, just like I’ve been taught, I secure the hold with my opposite hand.
The ref kneels in front of us, intently watching the interaction, making sure I’m not breaking the rules and that he’s still breathing. After a few seconds, Jasper stops flailing and trying to break free. Then it happens: one minute twelve seconds since the bell rang, Jasper taps my arm and the ref waves his hands. Even though I don’t want to, I loosen my hold and scoot backward.
Jasper falls to the side as he catches his breath, and I look to my corner to see Garrett’s proud smile beaming back at me. Scanning the crowd, I find Josette bouncing up and down near Rian in the front row, punching the air and screaming.
In the center of the cage, the ref grabs both my and Jasper’s wrists as the announcer gives the decision on the fight.
“At one minute, twelve seconds, our champion by submission is…Cutter Greer.” The ref thrusts my arm in the air and the crowd erupts, mostly with cheers. Some people boo, but the vast majority are happy with the outcome, as am I.
I exit the cage to a welcoming embrace from Garrett, and with one arm wrapped around my shoulder while playfully punching me in the stomach with the other and telling me how proud I made him, we make our way back to the locker room, where Rian’s waiting.
“Now that’s how the fuck you do it,” she screams, and runs to me the second I enter the small room. “First fight and a first-round submission. Dude, you’re pretty fucking amazing.”
“It wasn’t as strange as I thought it would be,” I confess, pulling my street clothes out of the bag.
“Okay, you change,” Rian demands, pointing to me, then turns to Garrett. “I’ll get everything set up and Josette and I will meet you back at the gym. There’s gonna be a celebration tonight, boys.” Giddily, she exits the room and I can hear her screaming as she moves down the hall to the exit.
“I’ll meet you outside. Someone’s gonna have to rein that woman in,” Garrett jokes, clapping me on the shoulder before he runs after his wife.
I pull the sweatpants over my shorts and put on my T-shirt and hoodie. While I’m lacing up my shoes, Josette breaks through the door like a bat out of hell. “I am so fucking proud of you.”
I stand to greet her and the second my feet hit the floor, she jumps into my arms and presses her lips to mine. Startled, I steady myself and grab onto her waist. All I can think about is the encouragement she gave me just before the fight. Just as I’m about to ask her what my surprise is, Garrett comes back through the door.
“Ahem.” He clears his throat, announcing himself loudly.
Josette jumps out of my arms, straightening her shirt and fiddling with her hair. “Oh, hey,” she innocently says. “I have to go meet Rian, but wanted to tell Cutter congrats on his big win.”
“I’m sure that’s what you were doing.” He jerks his head back, letting her know it’s time for her to leave.
“All right, then,” she says, inching toward the exit. “I’ll see you guys back at the gym. Congrats again, Cutter.”
“Thanks,” I mutter as I grab my bag. “Ready?” I ask, looking at Garrett.
“Not nearly as ready as you, obviously. Let’s go, Casanova. There’s a party in your honor.” Waving his arm wide, he lets me slide past him and teases me the rest of the way down the hall and even after we’re in the car and driving down the road.
—
The gym looks so different at night, but with it packed full of people and dance music blaring, it’s almost a totally different place. Weaving through the throng of swaying bodies, I beeline straight for Rian as soon as I find her in the crowd.
“Looks great, Rian. How’d you pull this together so fast? It’s not even been an hour.”
“Because I’m a fucking rock star. And I knew you’d win before the bell even rang. I’m good at calling them before I see them,” she jokes, handing me a cup filled with punch.
“What’s this?” I ask, sniffing the concoction. It smells like strawberry lemonade, so I risk a drink. The cool liquid hits my taste buds and they cry out for more. “This is delicious.” Nearly finishing the entire cup in the first swallow, I push it back toward her for a refill.
“Slow down there, champ. There’s an entire fifth in this jug even if you can’t taste it,” she warns, giving me seconds.
“Dangerous.” I sigh, drinking this one slower, and pacing myself for the rest of the evening.
In the corner of my eye, Josette pops into view, swaying seductively to the song playing. A few guys step toward her, but she gives them polite smiles and ushers them along. A pack of fighters stands in the opposite corner watching her, damn near drooling over her sensual movements. If I didn’t want her so damn bad, I’d think it was comical.
Her eyes land on me and we have our own silent conversation.
What about that surprise?
Oh, you did win, didn’t you?
No more teasing.
I’ve never teased. Except that one time.
Can I have my gift?
Upstairs?
I nod and walk to the side exit, avoiding Garrett, Rian, and the rest of the people who keep trying to draw me into conversation about my win. I know this party’s a celebration for me, but there’s only one person I want to finish the night off with, and she’s quickly walking toward the same exit.
We don’t even make it through the apartment door before my hands and lips are on her. Without an ounce of resistance, I pick Josette up by the backs of her thighs and carry her into the bedroom. Setting her down at the foot of the bed, I watch her remove every ounce of clothing except for a pair of light pink lacy underwear and the highest damn heels I’ve ever seen a woman wear.
“Surprise,” she whispers huskily.
Chapter 8
; Cutter
Climbing on top of Josette, I nestle between her thighs and devour her mouth. I’ve never known just kissing to be this sexy, but each time her breath hitches or her legs tighten around my middle, my cock twitches and the only thing I can think of is being buried inside her. Josette is never like anything I’ve ever had before. She’s the constant exception to the rule.
“We’re still not weird, right? Not falling in love with me or anything, are you?” she asks between pants. Understanding completely what she means—wanting our relationship to stay the same way it’s been, carefree and easy—I nod my head and move my lips down her jaw onto her neck.
All of a sudden, I get nervous. Josette’s fucking hot; there’s no doubt in my mind she’s had her fair share of guys and has far more experience than me. Marianne and I were both virgins, so it wasn’t like I had something to live up to. A hundred questions start rapid-firing when I should be concentrating on Josette.
Does she really enjoy having sex with me? Am I better than her other partners? Is she falling in love with me? Do we love each other? Did I fuck up and fall in love with her? What would happen if I did? Would she stop talking to me?
“Dammit,” I accidentally whisper out loud, and Josette pushes up on her elbows.
“What’s wrong?” she asks with a flushed face and swollen lips.
“Nothing,” I lie, and move down past her tits but not quite to her underwear.
“Nope. You’re a fucking liar. Honesty, dude. That’s the only way this works.” She pushes me off her and I flop onto the bed next to her, burying my embarrassed face in the pillow.
“Are you falling madly in love with me, Cutter?”
“No,” I defensively respond. “You’re my best friend, so of course I love you,” I correct. “But not love you love you, I don’t think.” I’m even more embarrassed than before.
“Oh, get your shit together. Just remember, my tits are super small, and I feel like you’re a breast man. Keep that in mind and you won’t love me, it’s impossible,” she jokes, and then starts running her hand down her body. “This pussy’s not gonna fuck itself. Do I have to take matters into my own hands again?” I risk a glance down at her breasts as she makes her way past them to her stomach. I will admit, in the shirt she was wearing earlier, they appeared much larger, but even without any enhancements, they’re more than a handful. A light pink, small puckered nipple situated on a perfect fucking tit. Dammit. This isn’t helping.
Having had enough of my own bullshit, I roll toward her and pull her to me. Pushing my hand into her hair, I grip a handful and draw her closer, her lips barely touching mine. “Your tits are perfect, Jo. You’re perfect.”
“Don’t go there, Cutter. You know what happens if you go there.” Now I’ve had enough of her shit. Taking her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I expertly roll it between them and nuzzle my face in the crook of her neck.
“I’d like to get back to the fun part, if that’s okay with you, Jo.”
“Okay,” she breathes, then pulls my head up and presses her lips to mine. No longer urgent and clumsy, the kiss is full of passion and need. Sucking her bottom lip between my teeth, I bite softly and she lets out the sexiest mewl.
I need to stop thinking she’s this…I don’t know what, but I have to remember she’s my best friend. She’s Josette. She’s brutally honest and doesn’t bullshit. All of those unanswered questions drift out of my mind, and I know that if there was something she wanted from me, something she wanted me to stop doing or needed more of than what I give her, she’d flat-out tell me. And she wouldn’t be passive-aggressive about it either.
Pushing her back, I position myself on top of her again, this time with a newfound confidence. Kissing down her neck until I reach her tits, I then tease one nipple with my tongue and the other with my fingers. Josette arches her back toward me, her body begging me to keep going. Continuing my path, I rest my lips between both breasts then rake my tongue down an imaginary line, past her belly button straight to the lace of her panties.
“Take ’em off,” I demand, backing off the bed and never taking my eyes from her. While she removes the thin fabric, I pull my shirt over my head and divest myself of my shorts and sweats. Josette leans forward on her elbows, the panties lying on the floor next to my clothes, and she intently watches me stroke myself.
I kneel on the edge of the bed and she slowly and sensually lets her knees fall to the side, exposing herself to me. Hand to God, I have to bite the inside of my cheek so hard I nearly draw blood just to keep from coming all over my damn self like a fucking fourteen-year-old. She’s fucking gorgeous all spread out on my bed, waiting for me. The little minx innocently smiles as she runs her hand down her stomach and through the small, trimmed patch of hair, then dips two fingers inside. I’m starting to think she gets a kick out of this.
“Christ,” I groan, watching Josette bring her wetness up and run those same fingers around her clit in small circular motions. With each revolution, her breathing quickens until her head lolls back and a soft moan escapes her lips. I could watch Josette pleasure herself all day long and never get tired of it, except I’m insanely jealous of those fingers. I want her cries and moans to be mine.
Wanting to capitalize on the high she’s riding, I crawl up to her, push away her hand and position myself, thrusting quickly with her walls still quaking. Josette’s mouth opens and proves she’s exactly who I thought she was.
“There he is, ladies and gentlemen. Here I was thinking I’d have to do it all on my own. Thanks for joining the party,” she teases. Pulling back, almost exiting her, I thrust much harder than I did before and still, wanting to both give her a smartass comeback and will my dick not to explode.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have something to say?”
“Yeah. Pick up the pace, or I’m gonna get myself off…again.”
“Ya know, for being a pint-sized little shit, you got a mouth on you.”
“That’s why I’m your best friend,” she says seductively, grabbing my hand and putting my thumb in her mouth, sucking like a fucking goddess.
Retracting my hand, I shove it between our bodies and begin manipulating her clit. “Thanks for getting it wet for me. Saved me the trouble.” I give her a quick wink and begin grinding my hips into hers, remembering a few tricks I learned from my porn-watching days as a teenager.
Her arms loop behind mine and her hands grip onto my shoulders. It’s not long before the familiar tingle starts low in my balls and I know we’re working on borrowed time. Josette meets me thrust for thrust and thankfully her orgasm starts brewing. Pulling my hand from between our bodies, I loop my arms much like hers and use her shoulders for leverage as I pour every ounce of myself into the last lap, sprinting to the finish.
“God, yes!” she screams in my ear, and her pussy strangles the life out of my dick.
“Got one more in ya?” I ask, not even sure if I can deliver.
“Just shut the hell up and fuck me, Cutter,” she demands, and I slam into her harder and quicker. Maybe a dozen strokes later, we’re both exploding. I’m pretty sure I black out for a quick second, somewhere between her screaming a never-ending stream of swear words and her legs limply falling to the side, no longer cradling my hips.
Completely spent, I slip into the spot next to Josette and lie on my back staring at the ceiling. Out of nowhere, Josette’s hand appears above my face and just stays there.
“What the hell are you doing?” I laugh.
“High five, dude. Come on. Give it to me.”
“You’ve lost your mind.” I chuckle and shake my head.
“I swear, if you don’t give me some, I’m never showing you my boobs again.”
“Fine,” I huff, weakly hitting her palm.
“Stop being a bitch. I know you can hit harder than that.”
I whip my head in her direction and she’s waggling her eyebrows like a weirdo.
“Touché,” I respond, giving her a proper high fiv
e.
Laughing, she sits up, pulls one of my shirts over her head, and walks to the bathroom. A few moments later, she emerges and grabs her clothes from the floor.
“What are you doing? We don’t have to go back to the party. I’m tired as fuck. Come to bed.” Yanking back a corner of the blanket, I open a space for her to lie next to me.
“Go on to sleep. It’s finals week and I’ve gotta be on campus by nine tomorrow. Talk to you later?” She quickly dresses, crawls up the bed, and gives me a peck on the corner of my mouth.
“Jo?”
“Nope. Friends don’t have awkward conversations after orgasms. It’s not a thing.” I stare at her, confused and relieved at the same time. Most of all, I’m shocked. Usually, it’s women that say no commitment but are quick to jump on the let-me-stay-over-and-cuddle train. I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but not feeling the pressure that comes along with sex is perfect.
“Just two friends playing zombies,” I joke.
“Motherfucking zombies.” She giggles as she leaves the room. “Call you later,” she calls from the front door just before it opens and closes.
Realizing I smell like sweat and sex, I decide on a quick shower before bed. Less than five minutes in and out, I climb back into the bed. I grab the pillow and shove it under my head, Josette’s scent still present, and allow my sore and sated body to rest long enough to pass out.
Chapter 9
Cutter
Two months and three fights later, the calls start rolling in. Every manager and agent in the business wants to take their crack at me for some reason. Garrett says it’s unusual for them to start calling before a fighter hits more than a dozen consecutive wins, but then backed that up by mentioning my raw talent.
I’ve also made a decent amount of money from the four fights I’ve won. More than enough to pay Garrett rent on the apartment for the next year and stop doing the janitorial work at the gym so I can train full-time. He tried to give me back the check, but lost the battle when Rian said that I needed to pay my way to feel like a man, and she was 100 percent right.
Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel Page 6