Page 7 of Menace

By staying away from the good girls and only fucking sluts he ensured it wouldn’t happen again. A woman wasn’t going to die because of who and what he was.

Not ever again.

Unfortunately he had broken his rules with Jo-Jo. She was a good woman hiding behind her tattoos and piercings, letting people think she was one thing when she was something completely different. Soft hearted and good to the very core, that’s who she really was. The way she cared about Rider and his baby girl said it all.

He shouldn’t have gone there with her. Should have resisted the burning attraction he had felt for her.

Had felt? Who the fuck was he kidding?

He still felt it, still dreamed about her and the time they had spent together. Something that shouldn’t have happened. Not that he regretted the time he spent with her. Not at all. It was the best sex of his life with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The first time he saw her he had thought she was a model. With her face, hair and body she looked like she belonged in a Victoria’s Secret calendar. Instead she was a tattoo artist living quietly in Cape Town.

Maybe the next time he went to visit Remy and she was still single they could hook-up.

No. What the hell was he thinking? He had to stay away from her, for her sake.

He was never going to go there again.

There was no way he would turn her into a target for their many enemies. And definitely not now the cartel was all up in their business. They would use her as a way to get to him. He couldn’t do that to her.

Not to his Jo-Jo.

His?

What the fuck was he thinking? She wasn’t his, was never going to be his.

The only place she belonged to him was in his dreams.

When he fell asleep at night she appeared in his dreams and sometimes he woke with the feel of her long white blonde hair sweeping across his chest.

Only to open his eyes.

In his room. At the clubhouse.

Alone.

No Jo-Jo warm against his side with her hair across his chest.

It fucking sucked but he’d made a decision and was going to stick to it.

The hollow feeling in his gut would eventually disappear. At least, he fucking hoped it did.

He had tried fucking the hangaround bitches to get her out of his head. It didn’t work.

He was hard and ready until he had a bitch on her hands and knees in front of him. Every single time his mind flashed to Jo-Jo on the beach, her hair like molten silver under the moonlight. One look at the slut in front of him and his dick was no longer interested, he had to keep his eyes closed imagining it was her, to finish. Touching them had him feeling dirty and twisted his gut into knots. Not even taking a scalding hot shower had washed the feel of dirt from his skin.

It had never happened to him before. Show him a wet slit and his dick reacted.

But not lately.

Something had to give. He couldn’t go around pining after a woman he couldn’t have.

He had a high sex drive and had never gone without sex for long. This was the longest he had gone without getting off properly. Even after losing Gloria he hadn’t gone without. Sooner or later his dick was going to demand some real action, not the unenthusiastic fucks and what it was getting from his hand.

Merde, (shit) not his dick, it was all on him and his needs.

A thought he didn’t like speared through his head.

What about Jo-Jo? What about her needs? Has she fucked someone since he left?

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