Miami, South Beach. 4:17 a.m.
My penthouse smells like sex, Patrón, and money.
I'm balls-deep in a Victoria's Secret angel (Candice? Courtney? Fuck it, she's "C" tonight) when the world suddenly turns neon blue.
Not the club lights. Not the LED strips on the ceiling.
An actual glowing blue rectangle just materializes in front of my eyes, floating like some Marvel bullshit while C screams my name and claws red lines down my back.
[Supreme Hedonist System Binding 100%]
Host: Logan Alexander Wentworth IV
Age: 24
Net Worth: $28,400,000,000 (and climbing)
Current Title: Rank-F Trash Playboy
Overall Hedonism Score: 9/10,000 (Disgraceful)
Dick Performance Rating: Above Average (room for improvement, host)
I blink. The screen doesn't blink back.
C keeps riding me like she's trying to qualify for the Kentucky Derby, but now I'm distracted.
"The fuck is this?" I mutter, still buried inside her.
New window pops up, bold red letters.
[Main Quest Unlocked – Emergency!]
Target: Scarlett Voss
Identity: CEO of Voss Dynamics, net worth $11 billion, publicly called you "a walking STD with a trust fund" three nights ago
Objective: Make her beg for your cock within 72 hours
Bonus Objective: Do it in her own boardroom in front of her executives (+1000 Pleasure Points)
Reward: Charm +10, $10,000,000 cash injection, Mystery Skill Unlock
Failure Penalty: Permanent erectile dysfunction + total asset freeze to $0.00
I actually stop thrusting.
C whines underneath me, grinding harder. "Logan, why'd you stop? Don't you dare blue-ball me right now!"
Lady, you have no idea.
Because the system just sent a very real, very cold tingle straight through my balls. Like someone hooked them up to a car battery and hit the juice for half a second. My soldier down there starts shrinking faster than my dad's respect for me.
This shit is real.
And apparently, if I don't fuck the one woman on the planet who looked me dead in the eye at the Fontainebleau gala and said, "I'd rather die celibate than let you touch me," I'm never getting hard again.
I grin so wide my cheeks hurt.
I roll C off me (she pouts, tits bouncing), grab my phone from the nightstand, and scroll straight to the contact I swore I'd delete.
Scarlett Voss – Ice Queen – Do Not Answer
Thumb hovers.
The system pings again.
[72:00:00 countdown started]
C crawls over, trying to get my attention back on her perfect fake tits. I push her away gently.
"Change of plans, baby," I say, already hitting call. "Daddy just got the best quest of his life."
The line clicks. A cold, silky voice answers on the first ring.
"Wentworth," Scarlett says, sounding like she's smiling and stabbing me at the same time. "It's four in the morning. State your emergency or hang up."
I lean back against the headboard, dick already stirring again at the challenge in her voice.
"Scarlett," I drawl, "pack a fresh pair of panties. I'm coming for you. And this time, you're gonna beg."
I hang up before she can reply.
The system flashes gold.
[Host's first step toward supremacy detected. Reward: Temporary "Pheromone Burst" skill unlocked – 3 uses]
I look down. My soldier is back at full attention, harder than it's ever been.
C's eyes go wide. "Logan… holy shit, it's bigger."
I smirk, grab her by the hips, and flip her onto all fours.
"Round two, baby. Gotta warm up for the main event."
Tomorrow morning, Scarlett Voss is going to learn exactly why they call me the King of South Beach.
And she's going to choke on every inch of that crown.
[To be continued – next chapter drops in <12 hours]