12. The Dungeon
-Jade-
Walking into the Dungeon, it’s fucking packed tonight. I see Hayden and give him the two-finger salute. What intrigues me more is when I spot Dumpster Craig, the crackhead from Harlem, who sells for the club. I saunter over to him, his blue eyes meet mine, and he smiles.
“DC, you got any black beauties?” I take out a bill and hand it to him. He walks us over to the bar, I order a vodka redbull, and he hands me twenty pills.
“These are thirties, extended releases, and don’t tell anyone you got them from me. I don’t need the twins breathing down my neck.” I zip my lips, throw away the proverbial key, and tell him, “Mums the word DC, I got your back. Give me your number so I know where to go when I need more.” He rubs his hand over his face but takes the phone when I hand it to him. He enters his number, tossing my phone back at me.
“Until next time, Chickity.” I nod, taking two pills between my fingers and placing them on my tongue, washing them down with my drink. I saunter over to Hayden, handing him a wad of cash.
“Looking good, Prettyboy.” He chuckles, shaking his head. He’s tall as fuck with muscles for days. His long, dirty blonde hair is tied back in a man bun, and his blue eyes are sparkling. His body is filled with tattoos. I haven’t seen him for a bit because he’d spent some time in lockup for a crime he didn’t even commit. He’s a gorgeous man, but I don’t look at him in that way. I’ve known him since he was a little twerp. His mom used to come clean the clubhouse on the weekends to pay off her drug debt. She was not a pleasant woman, and not a single man wanted her. So to pay her shit off, she cleaned and would bring Hayden along. I bump my shoulder into his arm, and he looks down at me. He grabs my face, but I shove him away.
“What happened to your face Bikergirl? Who did that to you?” he questions.
“No one, mind your business.” I narrow my eyes at him. He sighs, holding his hands up in surrender.
“I’m going to lock my stuff up in the locker room and stretch. How long until I get in the cage?”
“Five minutes or less, so I’d move that ass if I were you.” He shoves me towards the back and I side eye his big ass. He laughs at me and leaves me to my own devices. I open the locker room door to an empty space filled with a few rows of lockers and benches in between. I pick a locker in the furthest section of the room, put my belongings inside, and shed my hoodie. I stretch out my limbs, doing a few exercises, before hearing my name being called.
Here we go, mother fuckers.
***
My head whips to the side as my opponent lays a few punches to my face. I revel in the pain. I spit the blood at her face. Circling her, I jab her a couple of times in the ribs, making her wince. She kicks out at my calves, connecting, causing me to lose my footing and my knees to scrape on the rubber mats. My opponent uses this to her advantage and kicks me in the ribs and lays a good punch to my cheek, causing my fresh cut to reopen. Then I feel it. The rush of the black beauties, aka Addies, finally hit my system, giving me a euphoric feeling that spreads through my veins. My adrenaline increases, and I get up with a roar, charging at my opponent, and I give her everything I’ve got. I kick out and connect with the back of her knees. My focus is laser sharp as I wrap her long blonde hair around my wrist and yank her head down to knee her in the face. Still holding her head, I punch her in the nose and blood sprays all over the mats. I continue to lay punches on her face repeatedly. She taps my arm, but I don’t let up. I keep going, even when the bell rings. It’s not until I hear my name screamed through the crowd, that I stop.
“JADE, ENOUGH!” Hayden gets into the cage, grabbing me. I release my opponent and take a break against the chain-link of the cage.
“I think this was enough, Bikergirl.” Hayden whispers in my ear. I look up at him and shake my head.
“One more, Hay, one more,” I say breathlessly. He nods, removing the girl from the cage and giving me a minute to get my shit together. Damn, I could really use a cigarette. I take a deep breath and stretch out my limbs again. Everything is tight from the drugs. I roll my shoulders and crack my knuckles. I wipe at my face, and blood leaks from my cheek. I don’t want to think; I just need to feel. Thankfully, my next opponent enters the ring. He’s well over six feet tall and built like my brothers. I circle him. I love to taunt.
“You gonna hit me, big boy?”
“Oh, little girl, I’m going to wreck that sexy little body. Then, when I’m finished, I’ll drag you out of here by your hair and fuck that sweet cunt until the life seeps from those stunning eyes.” I laugh, spitting blood into his face. He wipes it off and licks it from his hand. That normally would be hot, but coming from this troll, it’s not. It’s fucking repulsive. He lunges, trying to grab me, but I’m too quick for him. I lay a good punch to his ribs, causing him to wince. I hear a bunch of yelling coming from the crowd, but I don’t lose focus. He comes back at me again, laying a punch to my chest, almost knocking the wind out of me. I step back, making it look like I’m going to lose my footing, but I spin around, using the cage as leverage and roundhouse kick him in the face. He stumbles back, but he grabs me by the back of my hair, launching me across the cage. I slam into the chain-link as everyone cheers, spinning around with a sinister smile on my face ready to pounce, but someone grabs him, punching him square in the face and knocking him out. What the fuck? That someone then turns to me, and I hit him in the jaw. His face doesn’t move. He looks at me with his bi-colored eyes and growls.
“Do it again.” So I do. I use him as a punching bag; I kick, punch, and push. He chest-bumps me, and it sends me flying back, my ass hitting the mats hard. I get up quickly, squaring up with the man I love.
“Come on, Kitten, come get me,” he taunts. I lunge for him, but he’s quicker.
“You can do better than that. All that training, for nothing? Come on.” He says, goading me. This time, I catch him in his ribs, then in his face. Blood pours from his nose.
“Good girl. Again.” I roundhouse him and connect with his chest, and he stumbles back. I keep laying punches any chance I get, until I corner him against the chain-link. Every time my fist connects with his body, I feel lighter, free, and the pain from how hard I’m hitting him is exactly what I needed tonight. I’ll probably end up with a fractured hand, but at this point I’m too focused on inflicting pain on him while enduring the torment from it all. He grabs me by the throat, squeezing and getting in my face. I swing on him, but it does nothing.
“Are you done yet, baby?” He smirks, biting my bottom lip.
“Don’t fucking call me that, Dario.” I say through gritted teeth. He looks into my eyes and his brows narrow. He pulls me closer to him, bends down, and throws me over his shoulder. I pound on his back. He steps out of the cage, and the crowd cheers. Someone slaps my ass, and I damn near lose my mind. That’s when I get a glimpse of Jameson dragging someone out the rear door by the back of the guys scruff. Fuck, The Carver is here too.
Dario enters the locker room and tosses me onto the bench.
“Strip. Now! And don’t give me any lip. Do as you’re fucking told or I’ll redden that ass to the point you won’t be able to sit for a week.” He commands.
Fuck, why do his commands make my pussy drip?