Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 284

I tuck him back in, slower than I probably should, feeling him stiffen under my hand again.

“You fucking tease,” he mutters, voice rough.

I chuckle, pressing my lips to his briefly before letting him just hold me against him. The warmth, the tension....it’s all him. We stay like that for a while, silent except for our breaths, until he says, “They probably heard that.”

I tilt my head towards the door. “Yeah, probably.” Then I ask, “You care?”

He shakes his head slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I was just being nice, couldn’t exactly watch you suffer when I had the means to take care of it.”

I scoff, feeling him slip his hands under my shirt before I say, “We should check upstairs now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze flicks to me, dark and mischievous. “You won’t whine anymore?”

I lean closer. “You love it when I whine, because it usually ends with you getting your brains blown out.”

He wraps a hand around my neck and uses the hold to push me back playfully. Then he grabs my hand and leads me out.

We head back to the restaurant, and judging by the looks on their faces, the three of them didn’t hear a thing... I think. There’s no way Layla and Addy would’ve kept quiet if they’d caught even a hint of what went on, so I choose to believe they didn't.

Jax leads me up the stairs, and the top level is brighter than I imagined. Sunlight streams through the side windows, illuminating the space. He starts talking about the changes he wants to make.....the floor, the ceiling, the vibe he’s aiming for. His words paint the vision in my head, but every so often, he flicks his thumb over my hand, lingering just long enough that neither of us can pull away.

I let my gaze fall to his lips with a wicked gleam, watching the way he talks, and catch him glancing at me every other second, just enough to make me tense and ache. I let go of his hand finally, realizing I’m still too fucking horny and making it painfully obvious. I step toward the large window, leaning against the sill, and take in the view. “You were right, it's a great location,” I say.

I glance over my shoulder and see him standing there, arms crossed, watching me. The heat between us is a living thing, silent and almost cruel. I lean back against the glass, tuck my fingers into my front pockets, and ask, “What are you thinking about?”

He takes a step forward, then stops, tilting his head slightly, and I can see that sharp, teasing glint in his eyes.

“I’m thinking about the sight we’d make if I fucked you right there,” he says. “Against the glass. Knowing anyone outside could see you falling apart.”

My lips part, heat coiling in my stomach, because I wasn’t expecting that, and the image crashes into me, harsh and vivid. “You’re cruel,” I murmur, “Tempting me like that while knowing you won't deliver.”

He takes another slow step, and my chest tightens. “Would you let me?” he asks. “Fuck you right there?”

I glance up at him, heart hammering, the answer already written all over my face. “What do you think?”

A satisfied smile spreads across his face before he glances around and immediately flicks back into restaurant mode, gesturing to the floor plans and layout with a casualness that drives me nuts.

I know he’s enjoying fucking with me. My attention shifts to the tables lined against one wall, and I walk over and hop up on one, settling there.

I lean back against the table, palms flat behind me, letting my weight sink into it. My eyes trace him from head to toe, making sure he feels every second of it. I watch the way his pupils darken, and I know he can feel me too.

He stops mid-sentence, just looking at me, and I catch that glint in his eyes. “You’re a greedy little thing. You know that?”

My gaze flicks down to the erection pressing against my jeans before snapping back up to meet his, bold and teasing. “There’s definitely nothing little about me,” I tell him, letting the words hang between us.

His lips curve into a dark knowing smirk. “I think you should try and control yourself.”

I shrug, mock innocence plastered across my face. “And I think we should christen the place.”

He steps forward again, stalking me like a predator, eyes never leaving mine. “I’m trying to give you a tour,” he states, “but you’re being a damn distraction.”

I lift one brow, shrugging again, “Maybe we should explore something else first.”

“Something else?” He stops a couple of steps away. “And what could that be?”

“Come closer, I’ll show you.”

He hums, nodding slowly. “You said you wanted a taste, and I already gave you one. Now you're just getting greedy.”

I watch his eyes fall to my neck where I'm sure a bruise is already forming. He looks pleased with himself. “Not my fault you’re so fucking addictive. Can you really blame me? I’ve been celibate for over two months.”

He shakes his head, exasperated and amused all at once. “There you go, being a selfish brat. I definitely suffered more between us.”

He takes the two remaining steps to where I am, hands moving to the table on either side of me, trapping me, his fingers brushing mine as they rest over my palms. Heat presses off him, radiates through me, making it impossible to think straight.

I let out a small shaky laugh. “That’s your own fault. You chose to play tough. I offered.... repeatedly, and you just kept turning me down.”

I can feel every line of him, every shift of his weight, and I know there’s no pretending anymore...we’re both on fire. His breath ghosts over my cheek when he says, “I was being considerate.”

The words barely finish before his hand drops from the table and lands on my thigh. He strokes upward, slow enough to feel every inch of the path he’s taking.

“I know,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly gruff. “And I like that about you.” His thumb presses higher, heat curling tight in my gut. “Always so damn considerate.”

The tension between us is molten, impossible to ignore, and I give in to it, reaching out to grab both sides of his shirt. I part my legs and yank him closer. Then I lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear as I whisper, “Why don't you prove just how much more considerate you can be?”

He leans back, eyes locked on mine as he frees my cock. It drops into his hand like it’s been waiting for him.

His fingers close around me in one decisive, claiming stroke. Too tight. Too fucking good. My eyes slam shut because it hits instantly, a shock up my spine. “Yeah,” he murmurs, amused, “I thought so.”

His grip tightens further, a warning and a thrill. “You’re not thinking with your head, Xander. You’re thinking with this.”

I feel his gaze drop to my cock, feel it like heat on skin, then his eyes slice back up to mine. “You’re supposed to be the level-headed one between us.”

I open my mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to beg....I don’t even know, but Jax jerks his wrist in that rough rhythm that always tears the ground out from under me. My hold on his shirt tightens.

“Jax—”

He grabs my chin with his free hand, fingers firm, turning my face up to him. Making me look at him while he works me like he knows every wire inside me.

“Let’s make something clear,” he says, calm in a way that makes my pulse riot.

“I’m the one who decides how this plays out, when it plays out....” His strokes speed up, ruthless and obscene. “...and where the hell it plays out. Not you.”