Sinful Needs (Wicked End Book 2) Read online

  Wicked End Book 2

  Sinful Needs

  by

  Bella Jeanisse

  a XynoAfterDark novel

  This title contains sexually explicit content and is only intended for Mature Audiences.

  © 2014 Bella Jeanisse

  published by

  Xynobooks, LLC

  *Publishing New Authors for the Next Century*

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in an entirely fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  For Adult Enjoyment Only: Explicit Material

  Table of Contents

  Chapter1

  Chapter2

  Chapter3

  Chapter4

  Chapter5

  Chapter6

  Chapter7

  Chapter8

  Chapter9

  Chapter10

  Chapter11

  Chapter12

  Chapter13

  Chapter14

  Chapter15

  Chapter16

  Chapter17

  Chapter18

  Chapter19

  Chapter20

  Chapter21

  Chapter22

  Chapter23

  Chapter24

  Chapter25

  Chapter26

  Chapter27

  Chapter28

  Chapter29

  Chapter30

  Chapter31

  Chapter32

  Chapter33

  Chapter34

  Chapter35

  Chapter36

  Chapter37

  Chapter38

  Chapter39

  Chapter40

  Chapter41

  Chapter42

  Chapter43

  Chapter44

  Chapter45

  Chapter46

  Chapter47

  Chapter48

  Chapter49

  Chapter50

  Chapter51

  Chapter52

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek: Tragic Soul

  Sneak Peek: Insatiable Appetites

  Sneak Peek: The Courier

  Sneak Peek: And Then Her Mouth

  Dedication

  This book came to be because the characters would not stop talking to me. There was no way everything could fit into one book. If you can believe it, they still haven’t shut up (LOL.) Because of that, there will be a part three, but it will take place almost a year after Sinful Needs ends.

  Sinful Needs focuses more on the relationships of Brandon & Mackenzie and Scott & Austin than part one did. The ongoing issues from Book One are addressed, but only some are resolved. Wicked End is still my kinkiest band, so expect the unexpected and lots of erotic moments.

  Wicked End tends to steer me to harder music, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Here’s a list of my influences while writing this book: Avenged Sevenfold (they kicked ass at 98Rockfest in April!), Puddle of Mudd, (got to see them in November),Papa Roach, Unearth, FFDP (October’s Orlando show was amazing!), old school Metallica, Slipknot, Hellyeah (glad I caught them in October, too), Mudvayne, Pop Evil (always glad to watch them perform), Nickelback, NIN, Adelita’s Way, Ghost, Meat Loaf, Rammstein and 311. I’m sure there are more, but all these acts are way up there for me in the inspiration department.

  I have an amazing group of beta readers. For this book, I recruited some extra male help as well. Thanks to all of you. I’d be nothing without you guys! Geri, Patricia, Donna, Christa, Liz, Stephanie, Margo Traci, Melissa, Sarah, Courtney, Josh, Kito, Josh and Peter. I’m sorry if I forgot anyone! I’ll be forever grateful.

  Chapter 1

  It was the last Friday in September. Brandon Knight checked out an article in Guitarmania magazine about him and his band, Wicked End, while on his phone. It turned out better than he expected. The pictures made him look like a sex object, which he was not so keen about. His girlfriend Mackenzie would be pissed. At least when other girls drooled over it.

  He sat in the waiting area of Louis Armstrong International Airport in New Orleans, trying to look inconspicuous. Mackenzie’s plane was scheduled to land 10 minutes before, but it was a bit late. He checked the clock for the 20th time. Then he sighed and walked over to the arrival monitors. It landed! Woo-hoo!

  With a huge smile, he walked over to his chair and settled down again. It would be a while before she reached him. He thought about buying a ticket to somewhere—anywhere—so he could wait at the gate, but he didn’t want to give anyone his ID. So far, no one had recognized him, and he wanted it to stay that way. Angelo, one of Wicked End’s security team, stood about 20 feet away just in case. He’d asked Angelo to stay inconspicuous.

  He never wanted Mackenzie subjected to the sort of insanity they’d faced in Fort Lauderdale weeks before. Brandon wore a black felt fedora he bought in the Coral Springs mall almost three weeks ago. That, coupled with his Oakleys, helped him be semi-anonymous. Removing all his piercings was his bandmate Scott’s idea. He kept toying with his eyebrow, missing the bar there. His mouth also felt weird without its piercing.

  His blue jeans and Slipknot T-shirt didn’t give anything away. His black hair was in a ponytail. It had grown in his weeks on tour. He debated trimming it or just letting it go. He’d see what Mackenzie thought before deciding. The smartest move he made that day was to leave his very recognizable leather jacket on the bus. New Orleans was still hot and humid, anyway.

  Angelo walked around the bank of seats Brandon sat in. As imposing as he was, he didn’t have to do much to make people avoid him. He watched their surroundings, analyzing everything and everyone. Years of sentry duty in the Marine Corp came in handy at such times. He would not allow anyone he did not recognize to get too close to Brandon.

  Still on the plane, Mackenzie Winters clung to the armrests. The flight had been tortuously turbulent. She hated flying. Only when Brandon sat beside her could she relax when flying. Takeoffs and landings were the worst for her. Her body shook as the plane rolled toward the airport, finally on the ground.

  Sitting in the front of the plane had its privileges. As soon as possible, she grabbed her things and headed for the exit. The walk through the terminal calmed her somewhat, but she had to relax more. Brandon did not need to know she had been miserable without him.

  First thing, she headed to the ladies’ room. After washing her hands, she looked in the full-length mirror near the exit. Her clothes had been chosen for comfort on the flight. As she looked at herself, she regretted them. The form fitting jeans and simple blue top were boring and didn’t allow for easy access. Her long, blonde hair was done up in a French braid, loose strands framing her face. No makeup as usual. Her green eyes looked a bit tired, but sleeping alone had been difficult. She fixed her blouse and stared at her image.

  Frowning, she thought about changing into one of the outfits in her bag. Maybe he’d like the tight black dress again? With a sigh, she decided she would rather get to him quickly than change. She fingered the black crystal that hung from her neck. It meant so much that Brandon gave it to her. Smiling, she left the restroom, then real
ized her throat was dry.

  She stopped at the convenience shop and bought a bottle of iced coffee. While waiting in line, a magazine caught her eye. A smile formed on her lips. Brandon was on the cover of Guitarmania. He was shirtless and seemed to be engrossed in his music. He had never looked sexier. She snatched a copy and added that to her purchase.

  “Wow, doesn’t he look hotter than ever,” the female clerk commented when she lifted the magazine. “What I wouldn’t do…”

  Hiding her jealousy, Mackenzie smiled and replied, “Those hands. The things they’re capable of.”

  “Guess you have a crush on him, too. Looks a bit like Johnny Depp, huh?” The clerk rang up her things. “I’m going to the show tonight. Wonder how hard it is to get backstage.”

  “I’m sure if you blow a roadie, they’ll get you in.” She laughed, realizing others had heard her. “I’m kidding.” She winked at the clerk.

  “Yeah, I bet that does work,” she whispered. “Are you going?” She paused when Mackenzie handed over a 20-dollar bill.

  With a grin, Mackenzie replied, “Yep, best seats in the house.” She tucked her change back in her purse and headed out of the store. She glanced down at Brandon’s picture, and her pussy clenched. God, I need you between my thighs. His beautiful brown eyes were closed, but that made the photo that much hotter.

  She had abstained from sex for 17 days. It was the worst two weeks-plus of her life. Some days, she cried from what felt like withdrawal symptoms. She had never resisted her urges before. The emotional turmoil was a shock to her.

  She spent the first weekend alone, in bed, tortured by strong cravings. Her vibrator only made them worse. However, she knew she had to go through it. She had promised herself to limit her sex life. Brandon was none the wiser. She hid the whole thing from him. After a week went by, the need lessened, and she vowed to hold out until she saw him.

  In the terminal, Brandon was getting antsy. He missed her badly, but his dick missed her a lot more. The constant erections without relief were aggravating. He had jerked off a few times, but it didn’t help. He needed her pussy wrapped around his dick to get true relief. Even the thought of sex had him hard. He looked down to see his erection straining against his jeans. Hurry up, Tink.

  He closed his eyes and thought about the past two weeks. His fingers flexed involuntarily as he recalled beating Dean Johnson from the band Gasoline to a pulp. If Jon Harris and Dominic Spinelli from Dean’s band had not been there, Dean might have been in a body bag at the end. His anger over what Dean did to Mackenzie had morphed into all-out rage. Brandon had lost control.

  Scott Mason, his best friend and Wicked End’s bassist, had wanted to help him teach Dean a lesson, but Brandon acted alone. Good thing Dean didn’t press charges. The scene was a blur, but the moments after were clear.

  * * *

  When Brandon got back to Wicked End’s dressing room that night, he headed straight to the bathroom to wash the blood off his hands. He had sprays and splatters all over his shirt as well. His knuckles were swollen and starting to hurt. He hadn’t held back—he’d put all his strength into each blow.

  After rinsing off the blood, he looked at his fingers, then flexed them. He sucked a breath in through his teeth and winced. Not good. How the hell am I gonna play tomorrow? He laid his hands on the vanity and looked to the ceiling. I did this for you, Tink. He wasn’t sure what the fallout would be, but he couldn’t let Dean get away with what he had done.

  A knock on the door made him turn. “I’m in here.”

  “What happened?” Scott asked through the door.

  Brandon leaned over and rested his head on the vanity. “Nothing.”

  “I know you, man.” Scott was concerned. “You look like you wanna kill someone. Let me in, so we can talk.”

  With a sigh, Brandon opened the door. He hid his hands behind his back. “Told you I’m fine.”

  Scott looked Brandon over. His eyes zeroed in on his bloody shirt. “Fine, huh?” He quickly checked Brandon’s face, turning his head side to side. “Whose blood?”

  “Dean’s.” He had to tell someone. “I beat the shit outta him.”

  Scott’s mouth dropped. He froze for a few seconds. “You what?”

  “Beat Dean till he cried like a bitch.” Brandon scowled, the anger returning. “He had the balls to say she’d wanted him. That goddamn motherfucker.” He pushed off the vanity and turned to the door.

  Scott grabbed him. “No. You got your revenge. Let it go.”

  “But—” Brandon tried to stop the emotions building. “He almost—” He shut his eyes trying not to breakdown. “You know what he was about to do.”

  Pulling Brandon into a loose hug, Scott closed his eyes as well. Every time he got that close to Brandon, his attraction came to the surface. He forced the thought away. “But he didn’t. She fought him tooth and nail. He was humiliated. That was pretty funny.”

  “She cold-cocked him, huh?” Brandon smiled, loving that his woman could fight her own battles sometimes.

  Scott nodded. “Yep. She hit him so hard they both lost their balance. He hit the floor in shock.”

  “That’s my girl.” Brandon pulled away and patted Scott’s shoulder. “Thanks. You’re always there for me.”

  Scott’s mouth dropped open again. He lifted Brandon’s hands and examined the swollen, torn knuckles. “Shit. You weren’t kidding. Can you play?”

  “I don’t know.” Brandon pulled his hands away and cringed. “Maybe if I ice ’em?”

  Scott nodded his head and tugged Brandon back into the main room. Within seconds, Scott was holding ice to Brandon’s hands. “If this don’t work, we may have to cancel tomorrow’s show.”

  “What happened?” Jake Thompson, Wicked End’s vocalist, walked up to them. His expression changed when he noticed Brandon’s hands. “Holy shit! What the fuck happened?”

  “Fight,” Brandon said bluntly.

  Scott replaced the quickly melting cubes, and then glanced at Jake. “I got it. He’s fine.”

  The next night when Brandon couldn’t even do one song without taking a break, Jake was livid. He pulled Brandon aside. Jake bitched and moaned about Brandon being irresponsible. It was strange, coming from someone like Jake. Scott told him to shut up, and they played their set as best as possible.

  * * *

  “Hey.”

  A sudden voice made the memory fade. A man sat down next to Brandon, who stiffened, but replied, “Hey.” He glanced around for Angelo, who stood several feet away, watching.

  “This may sound strange, but you look a lot like Brandon Knight.”

  Brandon nodded nervously without looking up at his new seatmate. “I get that a lot.”

  “You’re reading about him? That’s kinda ironic, isn’t it?”

  With a tentative grin, Brandon replied, “Yeah, I guess. Interesting article.” He laid his phone on his thigh.

  “You sound a lot like him, too.” The man’s voice sounded familiar. “Maybe you should try out for his spot. I heard he’s been a lame-ass the last two weeks.”

  When the man chuckled, Brandon whipped his head around. Next to him was Liam from Delirious. One of Wicked End’s opening acts. Brandon said, “You son of a bitch. I was about to hit you.”

  Liam laughed again. “Sorry, but you look like you’re gonna explode. Jake keeps bitching about you.” He paused. “Guess you’re waiting for your woman.”

  Brandon smiled. “Yeah, she should be here soon.” Then his eyebrows furrowed. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Same.” Liam bit his lip. “My wife and my son are flying in. I’ve missed them.” He sighed. “Please don’t tell her what you’ve seen while she was at home.”

  Brandon tried to hide his shock that Liam was a married man. He didn’t wear a ring and was not remotely faithful. More than once, he had seen Liam nailing a groupie.

  “I won’t.” Brandon felt guilty that he might have to lie about it. “I guess I’m luckier than I thought.”<
br />
  Liam’s eyes opened wider. “Why?”

  “Me and my girl got a deal worked out. Open relationship, for the most part.”

  “Fuck, yeah. Lucky you.” Liam sighed. “My wife would cut my balls off if she knew how many other women I’ve slept with besides her.” He hung his head. “I try, but it seems I suck at the celibacy thing.”

  Brandon nodded. “Yeah, I bet that would suck.” He groaned, knowing celibacy was killing him. “Hardest thing I ever did.”

  “Huh?” Liam turned and saw a look of agony on Brandon’s face. “Damn. You been holding out? That’s why you hide on the bus all the time?”

  Another nod. Brandon closed his eyes. “I kinda wanted to wait for her. It’s only two weeks. I love her.” A flurry of noise made them both look up. A group of passengers exited the secured area. Brandon stood to look for Mackenzie. When he spotted her, his heart leapt. “Gotta go. She’s here.”

  Mackenzie saw Brandon immediately. “Baby!” She ran to him and threw her arms around him. Her emotions were all over the place. “I love you.” She sniffled, trying not to cry. It was as if she were whole again. He was the part of her she didn’t know was missing. She wept from seeing him again. She couldn’t let him go.

  “I love you too, Kenzie.” He closed his eyes as he covered her mouth with his. His entire body yearned for her. “I missed you so bad.”

  Her bag fell when she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. “Bedroom, now.”

  Her desire had come to the foreground. Her pussy clenched as it always did when she was aroused. It happened so often, it was as if she did constant kegels. The one benefit of it was being tighter than most women, even after sex.

  “Really?” He laughed. “Desperate for me, huh?”