<h2>Chapter 1: Morning Heat in Manhattan</h2>
The sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my $100 million penthouse at 217 West 57th Street, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. At 35, I’d stumbled into an $83 billion net worth—tech investments, sheer luck, and a ruthless eye for opportunity. My 25-inch waist and bubble booty didn’t hurt in sealing deals or turning heads. But this morning, it wasn’t the view of Central Park that had my pulse racing. It was Ashten Barnes, my new flame, sprawled across my king-sized bed, his chiseled abs glistening with the faintest sheen of sweat from the night before.
Ashten, with his tousled dark hair and piercing hazel eyes, was a TikTok heartthrob turned real-life obsession. I’d known of him for years through his viral dance videos, but after my fortune skyrocketed, our paths crossed at a celebrity gala. Now, here he was, all 6’2” of him, smirking at me as I sipped my espresso in a silk robe that barely covered my curves.
“Damn, babe, you’re staring like I’m breakfast,” Ashten teased, his voice low and playful as he propped himself on an elbow. “What’s the plan today? Another boardroom takeover or just me?”
I smirked, setting my cup down on the glass table. “Oh, please. I’ve conquered enough empires this week. Today, I’m thinking we hit up Soho House for brunch. Rumor has it Zendaya and Timothée Chalamet are in town. Maybe we’ll drag them to my LA estate later for a pool party.”
Ashten raised a brow, sliding out of bed in nothing but tight black briefs that left little to the imagination. “Zendaya? You’re just name-dropping now. What, my moves aren’t enough entertainment for you?” He did a mock TikTok dance, hips swaying with that effortless charm that had millions swooning online.
I laughed, stepping closer, my robe slipping just enough to catch his eye. “Your moves are plenty, trust me. But I like my life loud and crowded sometimes. Keeps things... spicy.”
His grin turned wicked as he closed the distance, hands grazing my hips. “Spicy, huh? You’re trouble, you know that? Got me all worked up before I’ve even had coffee.”
“Poor baby,” I purred, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze, my voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Guess I’ll have to fix that.”
Our banter was cut short by the buzz of my phone. It was a text from Megan Thee Stallion: *“Yo, girl, you better not flake on brunch. I need details on you and pretty boy. Soho, 11 sharp.”*
I rolled my eyes, showing Ashten the screen. “See? Even Meg’s invested in us. Better not keep her waiting—she’ll roast me alive on Instagram Live.”
Ashten chuckled, his breath hot against my neck as he leaned in. “Let her wait a minute. I’ve got other plans.” His fingers slipped under the silk, tracing the curve of my ass, sending a shiver down my spine. “You’re not walking out of here without giving me a proper goodbye.”
I arched a brow, pushing back just enough to keep control. “Oh, you think you’re calling the shots now? Cute.” I shoved him playfully toward the bed, my robe falling open as I straddled his lap. His eyes darkened, hungry, as I felt him grow hard beneath me. “Let’s make this quick, lover boy. I’ve got a city to run.”
“Quick?” he growled, hands gripping my thighs. “Babe, I don’t do quick. I’m gonna have you dripping before you even think about brunch.”
My laugh was sharp, but my body betrayed me, already wet with anticipation. His cock pressed against me through the thin fabric, and I couldn’t help but grind down, teasing us both. “Big talk, Barnes. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
We were a tangle of heat and hunger, lips crashing, hands roaming. The world outside—my billions, my celebrity circle, my twin estates—faded as the room filled with our panting breaths. I was ready to take him, to ride this wave until we both came undone, sweating and spent.
But that’s a story for the next chapter...
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