Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 198

He doesn’t go easy. His grip in my hair is iron, guiding me up and down in quick and rapid thrusts. Every movement drives me further, a coil of fire tightening in my gut. Then his hands clamp around my face, holding me still, and I’m trapped.

When he thrusts into my mouth, I choke and gag, tasting every inch, every curve. My hands grip his thighs, nails digging in, but it’s useless....he’s in control, every motion perfect.

His strained voice cuts through my haze. “God, you always take me so fucking well,” he mutters, the edge of command in his tone making me tremble. Another curse slips from him, almost a growl. Our eyes lock, and the intensity explodes between us. I can feel it in the curve of his jaw, the tension in his body. Every gasp, every shiver I make only seems to drive him crazier. He drags his nails slightly down my back, murmuring, “I want you to feel me down your throat for days.”

I’m caught between the heat in my chest and the need coiling lower, my body screaming. It doesn’t take long for him to tense up, the rigid hold against my head telling me he’s close. I go to stroke myself, but he cuts me off with a low warning....*Dont.*

The command frustrates me, but it also thrills me in ways I can’t fight. My pulse spikes as he throws his head back and thrusts up into my mouth one last time. I take him down fully, tasting him, swallowing him, feeling the heat ripple through both of us.

When he leans back, gasping, I can’t resist...I move up, press my lips to his in a deep, claiming kiss. His hands guide me up until I’m straddling him, both of us breathing hard, his especially ragged.

He glances down at my aching cock, and I can feel his smirk before I hear it. “Bet you’re feeling pretty frustrated right now,” he teases, fingers brushing lightly over the length. I moan, grip his shoulders, and every touch sets fire through me.

“Do you want me to help you out with that?” I don’t even think, I nod immediately.

A low hum vibrates in his throat. “Of course you do...” His lips curve, dark and wicked. “Too bad I don’t feel like playing nice tonight.”

He grinds up against me, and even though he’s just come, I can feel him already stirring again. His voice is low when he speaks, but edged with promise.

“There's so many ways I could take you,” he says, almost to himself. “I’m trying to decide which one you’d survive best.”

His hand slides to my neck, fingers firm but not cruel, and that familiar, dangerous glint returns to his eyes. His gaze narrows slightly, like he's assessing. Then he pulls me in, kissing me hard and quick, enough to steal my breath before he pulls back.

“I think,” he murmurs, “I’ll go with the one that’ll frustrate you even further.”

My eyes narrow. “Yeah? And what’s that supposed to be?”

He pins me with that level, unreadable stare. “I want you on the bed,” he says. “Naked. On your hands and knees.....Waiting.”

The image that hits my mind makes me swallow hard, and I hate that he notices. This is Jax’s way of reminding me he’s the one calling the shots. I shake my head. “No.”

His brow lifts. “No?”

I glance down, then back up, masking my pulse with a challenging look. “I’d rather just jerk off and go to sleep,” I tell him. “Then we’ll see who ends up having the rougher night.”

It’s a hollow threat and we both know it, but it earns a flash of something sharp in his eyes. Before I can move, he shifts us with effortless strength until I’m on my back and he’s on top, my wrists caught in his hands, pinned to the couch.

“You’re feeling awfully brave for someone holding none of the cards.”

I meet his stare. “What will I get in return?”

He frowns, not following. “What do you mean?”

I test the hold on my wrists, it's too firm. “If I do that,” I say, keeping my tone calm, “....what do I get out of it? I’m not just offering myself up like that for free. Even sluts get tipped when they're extra generous.”

He looks half amused, half impatient. “You’re hardly in a position to negotiate.”

“It’s not a demand,” I say smoothly. “More of a counteroffer.”

His eyes narrow further, interest darkening. His voice drops even lower. “And what exactly do you want?”

The look in his eyes strips away whatever restraint I thought I had. My pulse kicks hard against my throat. I hold his gaze and let a small, dangerous smile play at my lips.

“I want a turn with you too,” I breathe, my voice breaking just enough to make him smile a little. “And you'll do whatever I ask you to.”

The look he gives me is hard to read.

“Then maybe,” I add, my tone sharpening, “....we’ll see which of us makes the other moan the loudest.”

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. The tension between us is alive and electric...until Jax leans in close enough that I can feel his breath against my mouth.

“I’m betting on myself,” he murmurs.

And just like that, I forget how to breathe. I stare at him, pulse still thundering in my ears. “That your way of saying yes?”

He tips his head, a lazy shrug rolling through his shoulders. “That’s my way of saying maybe.” His eyes drag over me like he’s already undressing me in his head. “If I walk into that room and what I see’s worth my time...” A pause, a faint smirk. “Then yeah, consider it a yes.”

He lets go of my wrists like he knows I’ll feel the loss. Then he leans back on his heels, gaze still locked on me, and gestures toward the bedroom with a tip of his chin.

“Go on,” he says. “You get bonus points if that pretty back of yours is arched just right when I get there.”

A scoff slips out of me, sharp and breathless. I push myself upright and reach down to tuck myself back in, but Jax’s hand shoots out, stopping me. His fingers curl around my wrist firmly.

“No,” he murmurs, that dangerous edge threading through his voice again. “Since it’s technically my turn, my rules apply.”

“Yeah? And what are those?”

“The first one,” he says, eyes glinting, “....is you don’t touch yourself until I say you can.”

I huff out a disbelieving laugh and shake my head. “Fine,” I bite out, though the word tastes like surrender. I stand, every inch of me aware of his gaze as I head toward the bedroom. The air feels too thick, my skin too hot. I strip the second I get there. Then I stop, my eyes land on the bed....the one I know he expects me to be on, and I can already picture the way he wants me.... waiting on my fucking hands and knees like some personal sex slave.

A low sound slips from me, half a scoff, half something else. I glance back toward the door. “Narcissistic bastard.”

And then, because I can practically feel him smirking from the other room, I take my place anyway.