You ever seen a woman walk barefoot through a penthouse like she owns the whole world?
Yeah, that's Cassie.
Black silk robe sliding off one shoulder. Bed hair that looked better than 99% of women on a red carpet. Coffee mug in one hand, my shirt from last night hanging open underneath it.
No bra, of course. She wasn't a fan.
Didn't need to be.
She stopped in front of the mirror, tilted her head just slightly, and smirked at her own reflection like she'd just pulled off a heist.
And in a way? She had.
Cassie didn't need to fly. Or punch. Or lift buses to the moon.
(Side note: I actually did that once. Long story.)
She didn't need powers.
She was the power.
---
"You watching me?" she said, without turning around.
I leaned against the doorframe. "I always am."
Cassie's smirk deepened. "Creep."
She said it like a compliment.
She always said everything like a compliment. Even the insults.
Especially the insults.
"You're up early," I said.
She stretched her arms over her head, arching just enough to make me consider blowing off the world-ending meeting I had at noon.
"You're up late," she fired back. "Didn't sleep?"
"Didn't want to."
"Cute," she said. "Still obsessed with me."
"Cute," I echoed. "Still pretending it's not mutual."
---
Cassie padded across the marble floor like it was a runway. She set her mug down, then straddled my lap on the couch without asking.
She never asked.
She never had to.
"You know I've got like, two news segments, a podcast recording, and a live stream to fake today, right?" she said, running a finger down my chest. "And yet here I am. Sitting on your lap. Again."
"Don't sound too proud."
"Oh, I am," she purred. "You ever see the way Titania looks at you? Like you're the devil she's secretly praying for?"
"I have super senses, Cass."
She laughed. "Of course you do."
---
Most people would be intimidated by someone like me.
Cassie? She practically dared me to try and intimidate her.
She liked control. She liked tension.
She liked playing chicken with someone who could reduce the city to rubble and whispering, "Do it, then."
It turned her on.
But here's the real secret:
She wasn't pretending.
That effortless confidence? The way she moved like the world owed her applause?
That wasn't a mask, that was Cassie and honestly?
It was terrifying.
And hot.
And I think that's why she always ends up back here—
in my shirts, in my bed and in my life.
---
"You gonna kick me out today?" she asked, voice lazy, lips brushing my jaw.
"You gonna pretend you'd leave if I did?"
She grinned. "Touché."
We both knew the truth.
I could sleep with Lilith.
I could kiss Nova in midair over a burning skyline.
But Cassie was always here in the morning.
Wearing my shirt. Drinking my coffee. Picking out my clothes like we were married.
"You're trouble," I said.
She leaned in, tongue flicking against my earlobe just once before whispering:
"And you love it."
---
Later, when she was in my kitchen wearing nothing but socks and that same damn shirt, I leaned on the counter and just… watched.
She knew I was watching.
She swayed more than necessary when she walked.
Bent just a bit too low to reach the orange juice.
Left the fridge open too long just so the cold air could hit her thighs and she'd make that tiny sound that made my head spin.
Cassie was a symphony of manipulation and sensuality.
A professional seductress who never took off the mask—
because it wasn't a mask.
---
"Hey Sentinel," she called, pouring herself a mimosa at 9:00 a.m., "do you think you'll ever get tired of me?"
"No," I said without hesitation.
She smiled without turning.
"Good answer."
---
And then she did something insane.
She picked up her phone. Hit 'Record.'
"Hey babes," she said to her followers, suddenly perky. "Just your favorite media girl waking up in the sky with you know who—"
I rolled my eyes. She winked at me mid-recording.
"Say hi to the fans, Sentinel."
"I'm shirtless and unamused," I muttered.
> "Exactly why they love you."
---
When the camera cut off, she looked up at me with that same smirk she wore when she undressed without breaking eye contact.
"Remember what I told you?" she asked.
"Which part?"
"The part where I said I don't care who you sleep with," she said, licking a bit of mimosa from her thumb, "as long as I stay number one."
I didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
She already knew.
---
To be continued…