Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 102

The words hit like a fresh bruise pressed too hard, and I feel my gut twist with equal parts anger and arousal. I want to bite back, want to grab him and pin him until he believes me, but all I can do is stare at him, my cock straining like it wants to answer for me. He couldn’t be more wrong, and yet the fact that he even thinks it, that he thinks I could want anyone but him, burns hotter than the jealousy that dragged him here in the first place.

His eyes flash like he’s ready to say something else, so I push further, lay it bare. “I haven’t touched anyone else since the second I walked into that damn tattoo shop. Haven’t even thought about it. Can’t. My cock doesn’t so much as twitch for anyone else anymore.” I lean in, my forehead almost to his. “You want the truth? I can’t even fucking get hard for anyone else, Xander. My body won’t let me.”

I grab his hand, shove it against the ache straining in my jeans. “But I’m hard right now. You feel that? That’s you.”

He swallows hard, his hand shifting slightly beneath my palm, making me fight a groan. His eyes flicker, frustration still burning there, but I can see the way it hits him. He’s affected, no matter how hard he tries to mask it. My free hand slides down to his waist, hooking into his waistband and pulling him in until there’s no space left between us. His body’s tense, but I can feel the heat radiating off him, the truth pressing back against me, he’s turned on too.

“You should’ve told me,” he mutters finally, voice breaking just enough to crack through his anger. “You should’ve told me, Jax. I hate being blindsided. And I absolutely detest being lied to.”

“I didn’t lie.” My thumb strokes his jaw, softer now, while my other hand grips his waist tight.

He shakes his head, jaw set. “ Lie of omission or whatever, still fucking counts.” He leans in, his words striking sharp. “How would you feel if I let some guy stay over at my place and didn’t mention it? Even if he was just a friend?”

That wouldn't really happen with how closely I monitor him, but I nod slowly, exhaling through my nose, because I get it. I can see how much this isn’t just jealousy, it’s hurt. Real hurt. And it twists something inside me, makes me hate myself for putting that look on his face.

“You’re right,” I say finally, my voice steady but low. “You’re right. I should’ve told you.”

His shoulders rise and fall, like the fight is still there but something else is bleeding through now.

“Yes,” he says.“You should’ve.”

I keep my grip on him, keep him close. Because if I let go now, I’m afraid he’ll walk out of this elevator and never look back.

“You came over,” I say, thumb dragging over his bottom lip before I even think about it. The words leave me without hesitation. His eyes flicker, anger still carved into them, but the truth betrays him. His chest rises faster, closer to mine.

“I finished early,” he bites out, glaring even though his hand is still pressed to my cock like it’s magnetized there. “Thought I’d surprise you. Guess I was the one who ended up surprised.”

I smirk, leaning down until my lips ghost his. “You missed me, huh?”

He shakes his head, frustrated, almost like he wants to shove me off, but instead he shoves closer. “Don’t twist this.” His voice is gravel, his hand tightening around me without him realizing it.

“Twist what?” I breathe against his mouth. “That you wanted me?” My hand slides down, gripping him and dragging him flush to me so he can’t ignore how hard I am.

He groans, shaking his head, but his mouth crashes against mine anyway. I kiss him back like I’ve been starving, like every word between us has led right here.

Then he steps off the wall and spins me around, slams me back against where he was just seconds ago, his breath hot and ragged. “You need to make it up to me,” he growls, fingers at my fly before I can answer. Within seconds my zipper’s down and my cock’s free, aching against his palm.

“Fuck..” I grunt, my head hitting the wall behind me.

“You hear me?” His tone is sharp, commanding, but his pupils are blown wide, his hand stroking me slow and rough at once. “You’re gonna make it up to me.”

I groan, grip his jaw, force him to look me in the eye. “What do you want, Xander? You want me to fuck you loud enough for everyone to hear?” I grin darkly through the rasp in my voice, my tone daring. “Loud enough for him to hear? So he knows you’re mine?”

His lips part, his eyes darkening. “You’re sick.” But he squeezes me harder, jerking me rougher, like the words only made him hotter.

“You fucking love it,” I snarl, trying to push off the wall twice and failing. I realize that all the times I was able to push him off were only because he allowed it. He intentionally let me overpower him despite being very capable of holding his own against me. I grind into his hand. “Bet you’d ride me right here, wouldn’t you? Let the whole goddamn building hear how needy you are for me.”

“Shut up,” he snaps, but his hips buck into mine, his breath shuddering against my mouth.

“That why you came over? Couldn't wait anymore?” I bite his lobe, sucking it until he moans despite himself. His eyes still burning with anger even as his lips part, wet and wanting.

“Fuck,” I groan, my hand tangling in his hair, tugging hard. “ Come on, show me how pissed you really are.”

His fist works me mercilessly, each stroke dragging me higher until I’m hanging by a thread. I’m seconds from shattering when he stops. Just stops. His grip loosens, the slick heat of his palm gone.

“Don’t come,” he orders, voice like a commanding growl inside the cramped elevator. My whole body jerks with the effort it takes not to spill over.