One afternoon grandpa Kook’s fingers twitched around the cane as Tae sauntered back from the kitchen, hips swaying like a pendulum counting down to his ruin. She paused in front of him, one hand propped on her jutted hip, the other twisting a strand of hair around her finger. His gaze snagged on the way her crop top strained against her tits—no bra, the fabric damp with condensation where it clung to her stiff nipples.

Tae tilted her head, catching his stare. A slow smirk curled her lips. "Grandpa," she purred, stepping closer until her bare knees brushed his trembling thighs. "You’re drooling." Her fingers hooked under his chin, forcing his rheumy eyes up to hers. "Want a closer look?"