CHAPTER 168

CAIN POV

I should have known by now to expect the unexpected from Moona Avii. I should have known that my suspicions were right and there was more going on with her than vegging in front of my TV every day, stacking up plates as though she’s been having a one-girl feeding frenzy, even though the fridge is still stocked full.

 I should’ve also known better than to tell her she should’ve just shown me her tits if she wanted to, and not contemplated the possibility she would follow through with it.

      But here I am, standing open-mouthed as Moona pulls down her grubby white top and bares her perfect pale tits to me.

 She’s confident at first, cocky even. Her shoulders are back and proud as she juts out her sweet rosy nipples.

      And I was wrong.

I have seen plenty of tits in my time, but I haven’t seen it all before. I’ve never seen a pair of tits that make my mouth water like this pair.

 She has a beauty mark to the side of her right nipple. There’s a smear of mud above her left. And they’re beautiful. Perfect.

      She’s fucking perfect.

      They’re bigger than I’d have expected from her frame, sitting high and proud and just right for a decent handful. My mouth waters, my cock fucking throbs in my pants, and I’m on the edge of fucking losing it. A breath away from shunting her against the kitchen sink and tearing the rest of her clothes off her.

 But I can’t. I can’t because of Brian.

“Well?” she says, but I can’t say a fucking word.

I watch her bravado slip away in a glorious heartbeat. Brash, sharp-mouthed Moona disappears before my eyes, her shoulders dropping as she registers how exposed she is in the middle of my kitchen, in front of a man who wants to break and show her how fucking beautiful those tits are, but can’t.

 “You said I should show you…” she says, and her voice is unsteady. I’ve never heard her as unsteady as she is right now.

“I said it was a dangerous game you were playing,” I told her.

      “I like dangerous games.”

      And so do I. But not now.

Not without knowing how serious Brian is about not acting on whatever desire he’s harbouring for this divine little creature we’re both enamoured by.

      “You’ll get cold,” I tell her, even though it’s the most copout fucking excuse for a reaction I’ve ever given.

She looks like I’ve slapped her, and I feel sorry for Brian with added empathy, because I can’t imagine he experienced any less of a fucking guilt rush than I’m feeling right now.

Moona pulls up her top like I’ve just shit on her cereal, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes wide, even though she’s trying to force an air of confidence that’s really not coming.

“They’re very pretty,” I tell her once they’re safely out of temptation’s way. “And if I were ten years younger.”

She shakes her head. Sneers at me like I’m a fucking idiot.

“So you’re blowing me out too? What’s wrong with me? Why can’t a girl find a real fucking man around this fucking shithole?”

     

I hold up a hand. “There’s nothing fucking wrong with you, Moona. But I can’t.”

      “Can’t, or don’t want to?”

I make sure my eyes are right on hers when I answer. “Can’t.”

 Her mouth drops open. “But why not?”

      Because of fucking Brian. Because he fucking wants you, too.

“Because it wouldn’t be right,” I say. 

“Because you’re barely eighteen and I don’t do relationships.”

      “Why don’t you?”

Because I’ve never met anyone who excites me. Not until you. Not until right fucking now in this kitchen.

“Because I like my own company. I’m not a man who likes to settle.”

 It was a stupid choice of words. She nods at me, smiling as though I didn’t just see a flash of pain in her eyes.

“Well, luckily for you, I think Brian nearly done with my housing application. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it, and you can get back to your own brilliant fucking company.”

      I sigh. “That isn’t what I meant…”

But she isn’t listening. She picks up her jacket and downs her tea. She barks out she’s taking a shower when she’s halfway down the hall, and the door slams at the top of the stairs.

      I’m a cock.

A cock with a hard fucking cock, and a mind to sprint upstairs after her and pound that tight little pussy until she screams for me.

      And I will.

Just as soon as I’ve cleared my own fucking conscience first.

      I grab my car keys.