Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 10

“I’m gonna leave now,” I add. “And you’re gonna back the hell off. You’re not the only one who can throw a damn punch.”

He just stands there. Watching me. That unreadable expression carved onto his sharp face like granite. His silence is louder than a scream. My chest is tight. Then....

He steps aside. Just like that.

I stare at him, waiting for the catch. But he doesn't move. And I’m not about to waste the chance, I need out. I need fucking air.

I stride for the door, don’t even bother to look back. One foot from freedom.

Then suddenly—fuck.

He slams me against the wall.

My breath punches out of me as his body cages mine, his chest pressing into my back, solid and warm and all-consuming. He moved so fast I didn’t hear a thing until I was tasting drywall.

“ I swear to God, Jax—” I start, but he’s already chuckling low in my ear.

“God, you're so gullible,” he murmurs, voice like silk dragged over glass.

“Go fuck yourself,” I snap, struggling against him, though my body’s already betraying me. Again.

Jax presses in closer, his hips flush with my ass now, and I can feel it. All of him. Thick and hard and fucking dangerous.

“I’d rather fuck you,” he growls. “You know that.”

His hand’s on my shoulder, pinning me there like I weigh nothing. His other is moving down my side, over the waistband of my jeans, making my skin crawl in the best goddamn way.

“You know,” he mutters, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, “I love when you talk to me like that. All that venom in your voice? Gets me hard every time.”

“You’re sick.”

He chuckles, and it rumbles through me.

“You’re hard too,” he says.

His hand moves lower, rough and possessive, like he owns the goddamn map to my nerves.

Then he cups my cock through my jeans. Squeezes just enough to make my knees nearly go out.

A sound rips out of me....guttural, involuntary. Embarrassing.

“Don’t,” I snap, but my voice cracks halfway, like a fucking rookie.

“Too late,” he says, dragging his palm slower now. “Body’s louder than your mouth, Xander.”

I want to throw him off. I want to lean into it.

I do nothing.

I hate how right he is.

I hate how fucking easy it is for him to do this to me.

“You’re a goddamn prick, you know that?” I grit out, jaw tight, eyes squeezed shut as his hand continues rubbing over my hard-on.

“And you’re still here,” he says, voice dark and fucking filthy. “Still letting me touch you. Still trembling like you want it.”

I do. God help me, I do.

But I won’t say it.

I won’t give him that.

He grinds against me, slow and steady, and I swear I see stars behind my eyes.

“I could make you forget your own name,” he whispers. “Say the word.”

My hands ball into fists against the wall. Every inch of me is on fire.

“Say it.”

Fuck.

“Never,” I spit, teeth clenched so tight I’m surprised they don’t crack.

Jax doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t give me a second to breathe before he flips me around like I weigh nothing. One rough tug and I’m facing him, chest heaving, adrenaline spiking in a way that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with him. Him and his stupid mouth. His goddamn presence. He grabs the hem of my shirt and yanks it up, cool air licking over my skin.

“Don’t,” I say, hands on his shoulders, nails digging in. “Don’t push this.”

But I don’t push him off.

His eyes burn into mine for half a second before he dips his head, and then I’m hissing through my teeth because the bastard bites me, right on my chest. Not soft, not playful. It’s a real bite. Possessive. Painful in a way that shoots straight to my cock. His mouth sucks at the spot right after, tongue lapping over it like he’s soothing a bruise he gave me on purpose.

“Fuck! ” I breathe, but it comes out more like a moan. I hate myself for it.

He leans back, thumb brushing over the wet, throbbing mark. His smirk’s pure sin.

“Now, when you look in the mirror, you’ll remember who you belong to.”

I shove at his chest, scowling. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

He doesn’t even fucking blink. Keeps talking like I didn’t say a word.

“I would’ve done it on your neck,” he muses, eyes flicking over my throat. “But that clown was slopping all over it like a drunk dog humping a pillow.”

My lips twitch. I want to laugh, but I don’t. I can’t give him that.

“I meant what I said,” he continues, voice lower now, darker. “You’ll come to me, Xander. Willingly. And when you do, I’ll make damn sure you regret wasting time pretending you don’t want this.”

Then he steps back.

It’s not much, just a shift of space, but it feels like the fucking air leaves with him. I don’t move at first. Can’t. My body’s still humming with him. His hands. His mouth. His damn voice in my head.

I stare at him. At the cocky arch of his brow. The soft flush spreading down his neck, disappearing under his shirt. His lips are still parted, wet from my skin.

I don’t even know what I’m thinking...I just move.

I grab him by the front of his short hair, yank him forward, and sink my mouth to his neck. Hard. There’s no finesse to it, no teasing. I suck until I feel the skin start to swell, teeth dragging across his pulse. I want it to mark.

Then I shove him away.

The dazed look in his eyes lasts half a second, and it burns me in places I don’t have names for. My hand fumbles on the doorknob, yanks it open. Cold air blasts in and I practically stumble into it.

There's a group of people outside, rushing towards somewhere, talking in drunken animated voices.

“Did you hear? There's two blondes throwing hands on the rooftop!”

“ Heard it's over some dude! Shit’s going wild!”

My head turns automatically, but I’m still half in the haze of what just happened. I wouldn’t have cared. I wouldn’t have even heard it properly, except Jax curses behind me and then he’s gone, tearing past me like something just snapped.

He disappears into the crowd like his whole goddamn world is on fire.