Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel

by Ashley Suzanne

  Kneeling on the bed, she pulls the waistband of her pants down past her hip on one side, exposing bare skin. “Look at you making accurate observations and whatnot.” Putting my knuckle between my teeth, I suppress the groan threatening to escape my throat and playfully shake my head.

  “You’ve got about thirty seconds to finish up or I’m either gonna come in my pants or fuck up all that organization you’ve got going on.”

  “Cool your jets,” she retorts, and goes back to carefully making sure everything’s in its correct place.

  “Thirty…Twenty-nine…Twenty-eight…Time’s running out, Jo….Gotta move quicker than that….Twenty-five…Twenty-four…Don’t forget that pen on the pillow….Twenty…Nineteen.”

  Josette looks up at me through her thick lashes and bats them playfully. If only she’d realize there’s nothing funny about this. I need to get inside her or I really am liable to come in my pants. She’s crazy if she thinks I don’t notice the extra swagger in her ass as she bends over, or the sashay in her hips as she walks to deposit books on the desk, or how her back arches, pushing her tits out toward me, almost beckoning me.

  “Hey, Cutter,” she calls, moving to stand in front of me, her skin mere inches from my face.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Three…Two…One.”

  She barely finishes the countdown before I’m on my feet, lifting her by the backs of her thighs and thrusting my hand into her hair. Josette starts giggling, but I capture her lips and the soft moan that follows shortly after. Making my way to the bed, I gently lay her on the blanket and get to work ridding her of those sexy-ass pants that probably are made for comfort but do nothing but make my dick uncomfortable in the confines of my sweats.

  After I wrestle her leggings off, Josette pushes herself up the bed, resting her head on the pillow. An unmistakable lustful glaze appears over her dilated pupils as she curls her finger, calling me to join her. Slowly, but shyly, which makes it even hotter for some reason, her legs fall open and Josette bares herself to me, exposing the promised land between her thighs.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” I whisper, raking my greedy eyes up and down her perfectly toned body.

  “I wish I could say the same, but you have far too many clothes on,” she huskily says, pointing to my sweatpants. Wasting not another second, I rip them down my legs, and I don’t miss her gasp as my dick springs free of my boxers, hard and ready…more than ready.

  It’s been a while for me, so I already know I have to pace myself or I’ll embarrass the hell out of myself by coming on her thigh, before I even get inside. So, instead of pouncing at the opportunity, I gently grab one of her legs. Starting at the instep of her foot, I softly kiss there and chart a path up her body. Each time my lips graze another area of untouched skin, Josette squirms a little beneath me and arches her hips, silently begging for me to finish torturing her. If only she knew this was for her benefit….Okay, that’s a lie, I’m enjoying the hell out of myself right now.

  When I reach the apex of her thighs, I place one small, chaste kiss over the small patch of hair covering the mound and devilishly grin up at her. “How ya doing up there, Jo?” I ask playfully as I start to kiss my way up to her stomach.

  “Cutter,” she breathes. “I’m not one for being hasty or making rash decisions, or even being forceful, but if you don’t get back down there, I’m going to explode, and not in the good way.”

  Allowing my tongue to retrace my steps, I wind up back at the delicate skin, running my tongue in circles where she’d like me, but not where she needs me. “You want me back here? Is that what you mean?”

  “You know damn well what I mean.” She groans and bucks her hips before I can pull back and my tongue glides between her folds, leaving enough of her arousal on my lips that I have no other choice but to continue. One small taste is not nearly enough.

  “I kinda like you bossy, babe. Tell me what you want.” I slowly, so painfully slowly, place open-mouthed kisses between her thighs, not putting enough pressure to give Josette any relief.

  “Cutter,” she moans, trying to inch closer to me.

  “Tell me, babe,” I whisper, situating myself to dive in as soon as she says the words and wrapping my arms behind her legs and pressing down on her stomach to hold her in place. “Tell me.”

  “If you’re not gonna do it, I’ll do it my damn self.” Josette pulls her hand from above her, dragging her fingers lightly down her chest and stomach, through the patch of hair and between her legs, slowly running circles around her clit. Hell, it’s so fucking hot, I don’t know whether to join in the fun or stop her. Deciding on the latter, I nip at her fingers until she pulls them back and swipe my tongue through her folds, paying extra attention to the little nub at the top.

  “God, yes,” she cries, and I pull away.

  “We can play this game all night. You taste good enough to eat,” I wittily joke.

  “So do it already!” she whines.

  “Do what, babe?” I ask, feigning innocence.

  “You know what, Cutter? Eat me,” she infuriatingly says, not in a sexual manner, but those two words are like music to my ears.

  “That’s all you had to say.” Removing one of my hands from her stomach, I use those fingers to spread her for me, then thrust them inside her opening at the same time my mouth comes down on her clit, sucking and nipping, until she’s writhing beneath me, fisting the sheets and panting my name. After the first wave of her orgasm passes, I don’t give her a moment to recover before I make sure she’s chasing down the second. God knows I’m ready to come just at the taste of her. I won’t last long once I’m inside, but I need to do this for her. I can’t be that guy.

  “Cutter. Cutter!” she screams, desperately trying to push my head away. When the realization strikes her that I’m the stronger of the two of us, she grabs my hair and pulls me up her body while I laugh throughout the entire journey, kissing every inch of skin I can. She drags me to her mouth, presses her lips against me, nibbles on my bottom lip while fumbling for something next to her. For whatever reason, she can’t reach it, so she shoves me back, turns slightly, and opens the drawer of her nightstand, retrieving a condom and ripping open the wrapper between her teeth.

  I take the latex from the package and roll off to the side to put it on, but again she surprises me when she straddles my legs. With her hands over mine, together we roll the condom down my length. With a devilish, sexier-than-all-hell smirk, she winks and crawls up my body until her entrance is positioned just above my dick.

  “Tell me what you want, Cutter,” Josette orders in a husky whisper, using my own personal brand of torture against me.

  “You, babe. I want you,” I answer without hesitation. “Any way I can get you.”

  Gently, she lowers herself, her wet heat surrounding my sensitive-even-while-sheathed cock, and I’m pretty sure my eyes roll into the back of my head.

  Her ass rests against my balls, and she gives herself a few moments to adjust to my size, but then it’s game over, she’s the winner, someone get this woman a trophy. With a wild look in her eyes, she rides me like it’s the last dick she’ll ever get. I had no idea hips could move like this, and I would have never seen it coming from someone who’s an accounting major. It’s gotta be like that sexy librarian thing.

  Josette’s nails dig into my chest as she chases yet another orgasm, and the second her pussy starts to convulse around my cock, I’m done for. Unable to lie back and do nothing, I grip her hips and meet her thrust for thrust, ensuring that her final orgasm is as good as mine.

  “Fuck,” I growl as the tingle in my balls explodes. I jab my hips up once more, filling the condom with every ounce of sexual energy I’ve not used in a long-ass time, and she cries out a mixture of curses and other unintelligible words.

  Josette collapses on top of me, our panting mirroring each other’s as we come down from the epic high we both just experienced.

  “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,�
� I finally say when I catch my breath.

  “Not heaven, Cutter…Josette’s. You’ve died and gone to Josette’s.”

  “Come and gone.”

  “How very punny of you. Shower?”

  “Yep,” I answer, rolling out from underneath her and disposing of the condom in the trashcan next to the desk. When Josette jumps up and starts her sexy saunter to the attached bathroom, I can’t help but laugh when I see a sticky note clinging to her ass.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks.

  “Just do it,” I chuckle.

  “What? Did I fuck the smarts right out of you?”

  “Babe, your ass. The sticky note. Just do it.”

  “Oh my God. You’ve got to be kidding me.” She giggles and reaches around to take off the note, but I’m quicker on my feet and get to it before she does.

  Bending down and nipping at the soft flesh of her neck, I whisper in her ear, “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Chapter 7

  Cutter

  Everything was going great. When I say great, I truly mean it. I was gearing up for my first fight. When I wasn’t working at the gym to earn my keep, I was training my ass off with Garrett and the other guys. And if I wasn’t there, I was with Josette. Everything was going great.

  But now I’m not so sure. Sitting in the backseat of Garrett’s car with Josette while he drives us to the arena, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done enough. Enough training, sparring. Do I have enough skill? Do I have what it takes? Josette stares at me, gauging my attitude. She pulls my hand into hers, laces our fingers together, and reassuringly squeezes. Slightly turning my head, I give her a weak smile and pull my hand away. I get what she’s trying to do, but I need to focus. Grabbing my earbuds from my pocket, I shove them in and start blasting my go-to song to drown out the sounds of everyone’s heavy, nervous breathing, which is doing nothing for my state of mind.

  —

  Mindlessly bobbing my head to the music, I’m blind to the world, concerned only with my objective: winning. The chorus of “Could Have Been Me” by The Struts hits and I silently mouth the words, feeling every ounce of what they’re singing. I don’t want to go out an untold story. I’d rather go out in a blaze of glory. I want it all: love, pain, pride, and shame. I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and think it could have been me if I’d only put myself out there. I’m caught in my own world when Garrett, who’s been walking a few paces ahead of me, abruptly stops and I damn near trip over my own feet to stop from colliding with him. Rian and Josette laugh at my misstep, then continue ahead into the building as Garrett stays back with me to assess my mental state as any good coach would do.

  “You have one job, kid. Bring home the win. You got it?” he asks.

  “Absolutely. I’m ready.” I won’t walk out of here with regrets. My all—that’s what Garrett taught me and that’s what I owe him. I’ll win, or I’ll die trying.

  He claps me on the shoulder and squeezes, his lips turning up in a proud smile. My will to prove that he and Rian didn’t waste their time on me suffocates my fear of going toe-to-toe with a stranger for the first time. I’m in prime condition—Garrett made sure of it—and there’s no way I’m walking away without fulfilling my word. I need to keep reminding myself that I’m being trained by the best there is, and fear will not beat me. I win.

  Garrett got his hands on some film of my competition a few weeks back. So, luckily, I’ve watched video of the guy I’ll be fighting, and, while he’s a good boxer with a strong hook, his floor game isn’t nearly as strong as mine. Every person he’s defeated has been by knockout. I just have to keep my head in the game, keep him from striking, and get him to the ground. Then it’s over.

  Rian, as little as she is, and with the disability of having lost an arm, has taught me that you don’t need to be the biggest or the baddest to win. The person who comes out on top is the one with the strongest fight inside them. Standing a little over six feet, I’m a few inches shorter than Garrett, but with his training, I need to be confident in my skills.

  “I gotta run and change. See ya out there, Cutter,” Josette says, giving me a brief hug before she continues to the changing room for the ring girls. Then we’re stepping into our makeshift locker room. I damn near punched a hole through a wall when she told me she’d be working as a ring girl tonight. She gave some excuse about needing the extra money, but the idea of her walking around half-naked for people other than me has me feeling some kind of way, and I don’t like it. I have absolutely no right to be pissed, she’s not my girlfriend, and yet I can’t make the jealousy stop. Maybe this is another one of Garrett’s ideas to keep me on my toes. What’s a good way to ensure a man will rip off the head of another without a second thought? Jealousy.

  I glance up just in time to watch her saunter down the dark hall, and my dick begs for the attention of her swaying hips. God, she’s fucking beautiful. Tiny as hell, short blond hair, and the most hypnotizing eyes I’ve ever seen. Garrett was right to let her work tonight, because I would love nothing more than to bury myself inside her. Knowing I can’t makes me more irritated than I can even put into words. Garrett’s a sadistic, evil genius. As she rounds the corner and goes out of my sight, I could rip someone’s head off just to get a quick taste of her. Take it out there, Cutter. Use this. That’s the point. Too many hormones racing through your body, a lot of need and want, and not nearly enough release, makes for a focused, lethal fighter.

  “Ten minutes, Cutter,” Rian says, heading out toward the main arena. I nod, pull my shirt over my head, slip out of my sweatpants, and stick the earbuds back in my ears. Shrugging into an oversized hoodie, I zip it nearly all the way up and take a seat on the bench, bouncing my leg while the Struts song finishes. A few seconds later it cues up again. I pull the hood over my head, shielding my face from the light, and close my eyes. Behind my closed lids, I envision the fight, go over the videos I’ve watched, and prepare myself to take anything and everything he throws at me, giving just as good as I get. Over and over I tell myself to stay out of his reach. If he can’t hit me, he can’t win. Take it to the mat, put my grappling skills to the test, and prove exactly why I’m here. Well, not exactly why, but still. I don’t deserve this shot, but it’s mine and I’m taking it.

  I owe so much to Garrett and his family. This fight is how I can pay him back—show my gratitude for bringing me into the fold with open arms instead of kicking me to the curb when I almost screwed all this up for him. More important to me than my own family, they’re the ones that deserve my absolute best.

  Fight like you’ll never get another chance. Leave it all out there. That’s how Garrett trained me.

  Garrett taps me on the shoulder, nodding toward the door. It’s time to go. Taking a few deep breaths and trying not to psych myself out, I stand and follow him into the hallway.

  Walking by Garrett’s side, I peek over at him, and his facial expression reads the same as mine: lethal and ready for battle. Either because he’s an amazing coach or because of all his time in the service, he’s not someone I’d like to meet in an unfortunate circumstance…again. As we approach the steel double doors to the arena, the screams and cheers get louder. The moment the doors open, the hollers from the crowd overpower the music in my ears. My entire body begins to vibrate with a nervous excitement like I’ve never felt before. When I look around, my stomach rolls, giving me the feeling that I need to puke, and then I see her. Josette…standing off to one side of the cage, wearing next to nothing. It doesn’t take a genius to notice every person with a dick is watching her, imagining what it’d be like to be with her. She’s laughing with another girl, but her eyes catch mine and she genuinely smiles. The ache in my gut disappears almost immediately.

  Taking a few more deep, calming breaths, I step ahead of Garrett and make my way to the gate. Walk up the small staircase, drop my hoodie and earbuds into Garrett’s open palm, and step into the fenced octagon. The moment I’m inside, I go to my corner and wait for my opponent. Th
e crowd lights up like the Fourth of July when he steps into sight and I watch him strut out with more confidence than he should have, his ego-boosting posse not far behind. Then, just before he enters the cage with me, his gaze fixes on Josette and instead of going to his designated area he stalks toward her like a lion advancing on his prey.

  I flex my fingers into a fist, doing it a few times until I know the circulation is working properly. Shaking out the nerves, leaving only anger and frustration, and of course too many hormones and a dick begging for one girl and one girl only, I bounce up and down on the balls of my feet and pump my arms. I can only imagine how great it’s going to feel to have his neck in the crook of my elbow as I choke the life out of him. I had a similar feeling when I was in the cage with Colt, but these feelings…nothing at all like I’ve felt before. This guy—he’s a dead man walking.

  With us on opposite sides of the cage, the ref enters and chats with the other guy, Jasper, for a moment before making his way over to me. “I want a clean fight. I trust you know the regulations. We are recording for local access.” He runs down his expectations and I nod as I pop in my mouth guard.

  Josette and the other girl both grab signs with the number one written on them and begin to prance around the outer edges of the mat, inciting catcalls from the crowd. She nears me, the small black top pushing her ample breasts higher than usual, her hair resting just above her ears, and the tiniest shorts known to man hugging her hips in the most delicious way. When she’s only a foot away, she tosses me a sexy little wink and steps even closer.

  “When you win, I have a little present for you,” she slyly flirts and walks away, stepping out of the cage with the other girl. Probably the last thing I needed to hear. I’m already on edge, and her little comment has me on the verge of tossing her over my shoulder, forfeiting the fight, taking her to the locker room, and exploding.