Page 54 of Into Temptation

The tweeting of birds alerts me that it’s morning.

I finally passed out in exhaustion after crying my eyes out. I should be used to tears when Punky is involved. He isn’t who I thought he was. We all harbor our own secrets for whatever reason, but Punky’s secrets are damaging in ways I sometimes doubt I’ll ever recover from.

All my things are at the hotel I checked into before I went to see Brody. I literally only have the clothes I’m wearing, which, thanks to being burned to an almost crisp, have seen better days. I desperately want to shower and brush my teeth, so I decide to clean up before catching a cab to retrieve my things from the hotel.

Punky is slumped in a chair by my bedside. He looks awfully uncomfortable. Good.

Pulling back the blanket, I slowly come to a stand. I’m in my underwear and a T-shirt, so when I peer down at my legs and see the numerous stitches, I sigh. Walking will hurt, but I push past the discomfort as I reach for the pain meds Dr. Shannon left for me.

Popping two pills, I hobble toward the bathroom and sigh in relief when I see the shower. I don’t even think twice as I strip off with great difficultly and turn the faucets on. When the water is scalding, I step in.

The warmth unknots the aches in my body and I stand under the spray, wishing it could wash away this ache in my chest.

In just a few hours, I uncovered so much about Punky. I don’t know what to think. I don’t want to believe what I heard, but deep down, I know that it’s true. He lied to me. I know I did the same thing to him, but this pattern between us, when will it stop?

I scrub myself clean and only turn off the faucet when standing becomes too uncomfortable, thanks to my ankle being the size of a balloon. Opening the shower door, I lean forward and reach for the towel on the rack, but thanks to being unsteady on my feet, I lose my balance and tumble out the shower and onto the bathroom floor with a yelp.

“Fuck,” I curse, slamming my fist against the tiles, frustrated.

As I’m desperately trying to stand, Punky appears. My yelp must have woken him as he looks like he’s still half asleep. But that soon changes when he sees me sprawled out on the floor, naked and wet.

The blue to his eyes is soon replaced with a menacing black.

This is wrong, but when Punky is involved, I’ve come to realize there is no right. It’s now my turn to be bad. It’s nowhisturn to feel the pain that I have.

I stop trying to rise and remain perfectly still, locking eyes with Punky. He doesn’t look away when he knows he should. The fact that he wants me this way stirs this constant hunger inside me. It’s the reason I shuffle back to lean against the wall, not bothering to cover my nakedness.

“Let me help ye,” Punky finally says when he realizes he’s staring. He reaches for the towel, but I shake my head.

“You can help me another way,” I purr, opening my legs to expose my sex to him.

His gaze sets me on fire as he’s clearly wrestling with looking away. But he can’t. “No,” he states, but the fact that he’s looking at me like I’m his next meal contradicts his claim.

“No?” I question with a smirk as I cup my breasts and run my thumbs over my erect nipples. “No, you won’t help me?”

“We can’t, Baby,” he says, still ogling me.

I love it when he calls me baby. The term of endearment from anyone else would piss me off, but not when Punky says it. But I refuse to let him know that.

“Oh? ’Cause you’re my brother?”

He clenches his jaw.

“Brother or not,” I state, slowly gliding my hands toward the junction of my thighs. “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had. No one can make me come like you can.”

I’m being crude on purpose because I want to see him squirm, and squirm he does when I slip two fingers into my sex. I’m wet, thanks to the shower, but also because Punky is here, watching me as I start to get myself off.

My injuries are long forgotten as I sink my fingers in and out of my pussy, locking eyes with Punky as he’s the perfect material to get off to. He watches as I play with myself slowly, humming in approval as I see him responding to what he sees.

“Stop it,” he says, but he doesn’t mean it.

“You can always walk away,” I gasp, pushing out my breasts to enhance this torturous show for him. “But you can’t, can you?”

When he doesn’t answer, I grin.

“Get on your knees.”

My demand shocks him. I can clearly see him weighing over my order, as he knows this is wrong. But temptation wins, just how I knew it would when he slowly drops to his knees. He doesn’t speak. He just watches me as I open my legs wider and increase the tempo of my fingers.

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