Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 21

He goes still. Just for a second. But I see it, the way his pupils dilate, the heat that flashes under all that anger.

“You want me to spell it out?” I ask, tilting my head. “You had to know I’d be here. And yet you came anyway.”

“ You're delusional,” he grits out, stepping back again.

I follow. One step. Then another. He’s backpedaling like he’s not sure if he wants to run or let me pin him to the nearest goddamn tree.

“You knew,” I say, voice soft but dark enough to roll thunder through the space between us. I step into his space... slow, deliberate. The air between us sizzles.

I lift a hand and wrap it around his throat. Just enough to remind him that I can.

He shudders. Doesn’t pull away.

“You ever think about what it means?” I whisper, leaning closer. “That you fight me so hard, but every time I show up, you fucking break.”

His lashes flutter. His lips part. His thighs shift like he can’t quite stand still anymore.

I dip my head, mouth just barely brushing his jaw.

“You want me, Xander. You want the way I'll ruin you.”

His breath comes out sharp. “You’re so fucking full of yourself it's ridiculous.”

“You haven’t told me to stop,” I murmur.

His fingers twitch like he wants to hit me or grab me, maybe both.

He turns his head away like he’s trying to find oxygen, but I can see it, the flush in his neck, the pulse beating fast under my thumb, the way his body gives him away even while his mouth keeps lying.

I press my body into his, chest to chest, heat to heat.

“You want to hate me. Fine. Hate me all you want. But don’t fucking lie to yourself. Don’t pretend your cock doesn’t get hard every time I say your name.”

He groans, a sound caught between frustration and need.

The restaurant’s still in view, warm golden lights flickering against the lake, laughter rolling in waves across the breeze. A couple of people walk nearby, probably waiting on a table or heading to their car, which means we’re still on the damn radar. Anyone could glance this way and catch sight of us. Of Xander looking the way he does, heated....practically vibrating with it.

My eyes shift left. There. A jagged little slope leading down to the waterline, half-concealed by trees, reeds and rocks. Perfect.

I look back at him, and he’s standing stiff, that jaw locked tight, lips parted like he’s fighting to breathe right. I don’t give him time to reset.

“I know you like it rough, Xander,” I say, low and pointed. My voice is steel wrapped in velvet, sliding under his skin whether he wants it or not.

“I felt it.”

His chest jerks, his eyes finally turning to look into mine.

“You gonna follow me willingly,” I murmur, letting my fingers ghost over the front of his shirt, “or am I dragging you by your neck?”

His breath catches. Loud. Audible. His nostrils flare, and that flush is back in full bloom, racing up his neck like it’s chasing something.

I tilt his phone in my hand, then reach over and slide it into his back pocket, my hand lingering as I cup his ass. Hard. Possessive.

“You don’t get to play innocent,” I murmur against his ear. “Not when I know exactly how bad you want it.”

I don’t wait for a response. Just turn and start walking, my boots crunching over gravel and broken twigs. I expect him to bolt again. Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s skittish like that, nervous energy buzzing under his skin like he’s constantly debating whether to run or stay and burn.

But then....there it is.

Footsteps. He’s following. Good fucking choice.

Once there, I lean back against the rock, arms crossed, the surface cool through my shirt. It’s just secluded enough to be dangerous, shielded by trees and jagged stone, but if anyone comes looking, they’ll find us. That possibility makes everything under my skin feel wired and electric.

I hear footsteps crunching behind me, then silence. I don’t even have to look. I know it’s him.

He finally steps into view, eyes stormy, like he’s been arguing with himself the whole walk here. He looks good pissed off, like temptation dressed in frustration. His fists are clenched.

I smirk. “You show up just to stand there and sulk, or you planning on getting on your knees like we both know you want to?”

His eyes flick to mine, sharp and defiant.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps.

I tilt my head, slow and lazy. “Is this the part where I tell you to make me?”

He curses under his breath, something low and savage, and then he’s on me, crashing his mouth to mine like he’s drowning and I’m the last breath he’s allowed.

I kiss him back hard, slide one hand into the back of his hair and tug until he groans into my mouth. His hand slips down, brushes over the front of my jeans where my cock is straining, and I suck in a breath, sharp and pleased.

“Yeah?” I murmur against his lips. “That what you came here for? You want it that bad?”

He tries to glare. It’s weak. He’s already lost this game and we both know it.

“You don’t even like me,” he grits out.

And I wonder where the hell that came from but don't think too much of it.

“ Sure I do,” I say, grinding into his palm. “But I want you even more. Want to wreck you a little.”

His breath stutters, pupils blown.

“You want that?” I ask again, fingers slipping under his waistband, teasing. He looks up, and I expect another retort, but instead he nods once...barely.

“That’s not good enough,” I growl. “Say it.”

“Fuck, Jax,” he breathes. “...Yes.”

I push him down by his shoulder, slow but firm, watching his knees hit the ground. His eyes flick up to mine, flushed and furious and hungry.

“ Good boy. Now take my cock out, " I order, just because I know it'll piss him off, “You wanted to run, remember? Now I'll fuck your throat until you're chocking on it. " I rasp, voice thick with need.

He stares up at me, chest heaving, lips parted. That pretty mouth, just waiting.

His jaw tightens, and for a second I think he’s gonna fight me again, but instead he grips my thighs and drags me closer, nuzzling at the line of my zipper like a man starved.

I let my head fall back against the rock, groaning. “That’s it, I knew you’d crawl eventually.”

He growls frustrated and mad, my hand tangles in his hair, not to guide him...just to own the moment.

He flicks his eyes up again, defiant even now, and then undoes my fly slowly like he’s making a point. He pulls my boxers down enough to free my cock, it basically springs out, eager for him. My balls full and aching. I hiss, biting back a curse.

“Jesus, Xander…”

For a second he just looks at it, eyes filling with that need, same one from last night, only amped up a few notches. I watch him wrap his hand around the base. I almost forget how to breathe. My hips jerk forward, instinct taking over. I don’t even try to be gentle. He doesn’t want that.

Not from me.