Losing Control : His Madness, His Cure Chapter 88

His hand hooks into his waistband, starts to drag it down, teasing me with the sight of skin. Then he freezes, smirking like the bastard he is.

“On second thought…” he says, voice dripping with mock-consideration. “You’re looking a little tired. Maybe we should reschedule. You know, for when you’ll be more up to the task.”

That’s it.

I’m on him before the words have even finished leaving his mouth. My hands slam to his waist, yanking him flush against me, and I kiss him hard...no hesitation, no restraint.

I’ve thought about this for over two years, how he’d feel under me, how I’d finally taste him without holding back. Didn't think it’d be tonight, but suddenly I know I need it. The want I’ve been carrying has sharpened into something dangerous, something I can’t choke down anymore.

We don’t even make it cleanly down the hall, it’s all hands and mouths, biting at each other, shoving and pulling back like lunatics who can’t stand not to touch.

He grabs me, I shove him into the wall. He tugs at my hair, I nip his jaw hard enough to make him gasp. Neither of us backing down, each trying to one-up the other, but we can’t keep our mouths off each other long enough to decide who’s winning.

By the time we stumble into the bedroom, my shirt’s gone, jeans hanging open, and he’s stripped to just his boxers. I push him back onto the bed, chest heaving. He props himself on his elbows, smirking, trying to sit back up, but I press a hand to his sternum and shove him flat.

“Stay right there,” I growl, raking my gaze over him. Christ.... Spread out like this, flushed, cock already straining against his boxers… I could do a hundred wicked fucking things to him before morning, and not one of them would be gentle. I want to drag my mouth down his chest, mark every inch of him, wreck him until he can’t say my name without shaking.

I crawl over him, hands planted firm on either side of his head, leaning down close enough to feel his breath stutter. “I want to take you like this. First time I fuck you, I want you flat on your back, watching every second while I put you exactly where you belong.”

His lips twitch, a smirk tugging as he mutters, “Big words for someone who hasn’t even managed to get me fully naked yet.”

That earns him my hand at his throat. Not squeezing, just enough for him to feel my claim there. He grins at me, wicked, and I can’t resist crushing my mouth to his. He bites my bottom lip, not hard like that night at the concert, but enough to spike my blood, enough to make me groan into him.

“Fucking tease,” I rasp when I pull back, lips swollen. "You love being my desperate little toy, don't you?"

His eyes gleam as he shoots back, blunt as ever, “Only because you’re fucking weak for me and we both know it.” His grin sharpens, his voice rough against my ear. “And you have no idea how hard it gets me, knowing you can’t help yourself. Knowing I can push and push until you snap. I love it when you break, Jax. That’s what I want. That’s what gets me off every single time.”

I’m about to answer that, probably with my teeth on his throat, when my phone starts ringing. I ignore it, kissing him harder, grinding down against his hips. It doesn’t stop.

“Maybe you should check it,” Xander pants against my mouth, though I can feel how badly he doesn’t want me to stop.

I growl under my breath and pull the damn phone out of my pocket, already ready to hang up on whoever the hell is stupid enough to call me now. Until I see the name.

Nate....Of course.

I inwardly curse, thumb hovering over the red button...but no, with Nate it could be anything. Kid’s a fucking wrecking ball. Could’ve set half the block on fire for all I know. I jab accept and snap, “What?”

“So, funny story…” Nate’s voice, slurred and way too casual. “I went to this bar. And I may or may not have forgotten my wallet at home,”

In the background I hear shouting. Ugly and mean. Someone’s threatening him.

Nate chuckles nervously, voice dropping. “They say if I don’t pay up, they’re gonna drag me out back and break both my legs.”

“The hell's wrong with you?!”

A new voice cuts in, someone yanking the phone. “Your fucking brother ordered the most expensive bottles we got and then tried to sneak out without paying. You better come settle his tab, or we’ll settle it for him.”

I shut my eyes. Knew this was coming. Knew he’d be nothing but trouble. Still feels like a punch to the gut.

“Give me the address,” I grind out, jaw locked. When he spits it at me, I say, “I’ll be there.”

I hang up, and the silence that follows is brutal. My gaze drops back to the bed.

To Xander, spread out, skin flushed, lips red and swollen from my mouth. His hair’s a mess, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry, gleaming like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. And God, he looks obscene. Like temptation given shape, a living dare I’m supposed to resist.

Every instinct in me wants to crawl back on top of him, wants to take that look in his eyes and drag it out until he’s wrecked and begging. I could lose myself in him so damn easily. Too easily.

It’s unfair, the way he tempts me without even trying. Like he’s weaponized just existing close to me. Every part of me is screaming to climb back in, bury myself in him, forget the world.

But I can’t. I already know what I have to say, and I hate it. Hate that I’m the one walking out while he looks at me like that. Hate that he makes me want him so bad it feels like a wound. Hate that this is the worst possible time for him to look like everything I’ve never let myself have.

It feels like ripping my own skin off just to open my mouth.

“I gotta go.”

His expression falls, just a flicker, but I see it. The disappointment, the frustration. And it fucking kills me.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice still rough, lips parted like he’d just swallowed me down whole.

I should tell him something. But the truth knots in my throat and what slips out instead is, “Work came up.” Clean, easy, a lie I’ve never once stumbled over in my life. Lies were always weapons for me, ways to cut corners and get exactly what I wanted. But saying it to him now sits like glass in my teeth.

I lean down anyway, catch his mouth in one last kiss that tastes like everything I don’t want to walk away from. My hand lingers too long against his jaw before I pull back, muttering, “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Empty, maybe, but it’s all I’ve got.

And then I’m gone, dragging the zipper up as I walk to the door, every step away from that bed burning like punishment.