Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 17

“You’re such a cocky piece of shit,” I breathe, and it comes out shaky.

He smirks. “Says the guy rock-hard in my hand.”

I want to snap back with something scathing, but all I can manage is a guttural, “Fuck you.”

He leans in close, lips brushing mine but not quite kissing me. “That’s the idea.”

And I hate how much I want it. Hate that no matter how much I fight this, my body wants more.

His grip tightens around me, rough and possessive like he owns the damn thing. Like he’s already claimed every inch of me just by looking. His eyes are dark, mouth parted, a flush creeping up his neck like lust’s burning him from the inside out.

“You gonna push me away, Xander?” he asks, pulling my dick out completely, voice thick with grit and cocky amusement. His dark eyes lower to my shaft, I follow the movement. I'm fully hard, and something about his eyes on me almost makes me go wild.

I don’t answer. Can’t. Not with the way his hand moves, lazy but purposeful, like he’s dragging it out just to make me suffer.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “ Yeah, didn't think so.”

He grazes his thumb over the head of my cock where a drop of precum is already leaking and my breath hitches, a guttural sound slipping out...raw and fucking desperate.

" You gonna make that sound again if I touch you right here?” the bastard asks, trailing the pad of his thumb over the spot again.

And I do, like the weak, sexually charged idiot I am.

“Look at you. All that sharp mouth, and now you’re fucking melting for me, ” he then says, voice low and rough. Like he's barely holding himself together either.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll come just to shut you up, ” I retort. Then I groan and squeeze my eyes shut, angling my head towards the ceiling when he reaches down and cups my balls.

“Do it, " he taunts.... leaning in to nip at my jaw, " I wanna feel you twitch while I’m still holding you.”

" You're sick! "

“ For you? Sure. But this cock doesn’t lie, Xander.”

His mouth crashes into mine....hot, deep, all teeth and tongue. His hips push forward like he can’t help himself, grinding against me, and yeah, he’s just as hard. Just as fucking gone.

The moan that rips out of me is embarrassing. I hate that he hears it.

Jax eats it up.

He pulls back just enough to smirk, thumb swiping my lip. “There he is.”

“ I'll throw you through the fucking wall,” I growl.

“ Fine, but I'll make sure you come first.”

His words punch the air from my lungs. And fuck, the worst part? He’s not wrong.

He leans down, voice brushing my ear. “You like being watched, don’t you? Like when I look at you like this. Like every part of you belongs to me?”

I snap. Grab the front of his jacket and yank him back against me, mouth crashing into his like I’m trying to consume him. He tastes like sin with traces of whiskey and smoke. Like the last line of control I haven’t already crossed.

His hand works me faster now, his strokes more urgent. I’m panting and groaning into his mouth, desperate, hips jerking, fingers digging into his nape like it’ll anchor me.

“ God, I hate you,” I whisper, forehead pressed to his.

He grins. “ Then come and show me how much.”

And then I’m gone....spilling into his hand, trembling, breath catching in my throat like a curse. He watches every second of it, eyes locked on mine like this is sacred. Like I’m fucking sacred.

I want to hit him.

I want to kiss him again.

He brings his slick fingers to his mouth, sucks one clean while staring straight at me. I couldn't look away if I wanted to.

“You even taste like trouble,” he says, " Maybe if you could see yourself right now, you’d finally get why I can’t leave you alone.”

I want to say something. My throat works, lips part, but the words get stuck somewhere behind my tongue.

All I do is swallow hard and hope he doesn’t see how shaky my hands are.

The only thing I can think about is the heat rolling off him, the fact that he's still hard... the little scar near his jaw I never should’ve noticed but did, and now I can’t stop staring at it like it's the goddamn moon.

He reaches behind me without warning, his chest brushing mine just enough to send a jolt through my spine. He snatches a roll of paper towels off the edge of my desk, tears a couple sheets off like this is just another normal chore for him.

The first pass of the paper over my skin makes me flinch. It’s not gentle. It’s him.

“You really know how to make a mess, don’t you?” he mutters, his voice thick with implication. His eyes flick up...dark, steady, locking onto mine as he wipes over my jeans. “Didn’t know you had that much in you. Literally.”

I should throw something at him. The tattoo gun. My desk lamp....Myself.

Instead, I grip the edge of the desk like it might keep me grounded. It doesn’t. Because his fingers graze skin they shouldn’t be anywhere near after what just happened, and my traitorous body? Already halfway back into ignition.

Fuck me.

I snap my hand out and grab his wrist. Not hard, not fast...just enough to stop the motion before I do something stupider than what I already let happen.

“Stop,” I say, but it doesn’t come out with nearly the bite I want it to. It sounds breathless. It sounds like a damn plea.

His eyes narrow a little, then flick down, right where I don’t want him looking.

“Oh?” He smirks. “You sure about that?”

I follow his gaze.

Fuck.

I am already half-hard again.

“You gotta stop pretending your dick doesn’t have a mind of its own around me, Xander,” he says, voice all silk and sin as he leans in just a bit more. “It’s getting embarrassing at this point.”

I hate that I can’t look away from his mouth when he talks like that.

He balls up the paper towel and tosses it lazily into the bin behind me...makes the shot, of course he does.

I don’t move.

Neither does he. Then I tuck myself back in before I end up losing the tiny scraps of control I'm holding on to. I stand and pick up my backpack.

“ That's never happening again, it was a mistake, ” I say, voice raw.

His gaze dips again, then rises slow. “ Guess we'll see, won't we? ”