Novel Full Chapter 1917: This is How Kings Fall
Chapter 1917: This is How Kings Fall
Villain Ch 1917. This is How Kings Fall
And… everything changed.
No more guessing.
No more teasing games.
No more letting them lead.
Allen moved like gravity—slow, undeniable, impossible to resist. He didn’t wait for approval. He didn’t ask permission. His hands were sure. His mouth was molten. The air shifted as if the atmosphere itself bent under his weight.
Whoever he pulled down first didn’t stand a chance.
He flipped her onto her back—on the couch, across the cushions, one leg hooked over his shoulder—and took. Each thrust a command. Each breath stolen from her mouth a victory. He didn’t need to guess anymore. He knew them. Every shiver. Every sigh. Every sweet spot that made them see stars.
She sobbed his name. He didn’t slow down.
The others watched at first—wide-eyed, heat rushing back between their legs—but they didn’t stay still for long. He reached blindly again and dragged the next into his lap. Then bent her forward. Then kissed her spine. Then flipped her too.
One by one.
Soft to fierce. Fierce to undone.
Shea tried to straddle him—he pinned her.
Jane kissed him—he bit her lip.
Vivian tried to take control—he laughed in her mouth and slammed her down harder.
Zoe cursed and clawed—he growled and kissed her throat until she begged.
Larissa tried to match him—he made her knees shake so hard she collapsed and thanked him.
Bella got mouthy—he whispered something filthy in her ear that shut her right up.
Azura?
He didn’t flip her.
He lifted her. Cradled her. Kissed her forehead first. Held her against his chest and moved gently—still powerful, but sweet like a storm that chose not to destroy. And she cried into his shoulder with every slow grind, every whispered “you’re safe,” every soft “I’ve got you.”
And then the chaos spilled out in waves.
Cushions knocked off the couch. A wine glass fell and rolled under the coffee table. Someone knocked over the snack tray. Clothes—everywhere. Someone’s bra was hanging off the chandelier. No one even remembered how. Allen swore someone stepped on a cookie. Someone screamed when cold fruit got stuck somewhere personal.
It wasn’t sex anymore.
It was carnage.
Delicious, breathless, sweat-drenched carnage.
Allen finally collapsed back onto the couch like a man who’d survived a battle and wasn’t sure if he won or just didn’t lose.
His chest rose and fell. His body buzzed. His soul might’ve floated six inches out of his spine and said, “I’ll come back later.”
The girls?
Also ruined.
But they were smiling. Glowing. Staggering half-naked around the living room with tangled hair and bite marks like trophies.
Allen groaned into a pillow. “I’m going to die because of this.”
“You’ll die happy,” Vivian said, flopping beside him.
“You broke the couch,” Jane pointed out, nudging a cracked leg under the velvet frame.
“I think he broke me,” Bella muttered, crawling toward the coffee table to retrieve someone’s missing phone.
Zoe tossed him a towel. “Wipe your sweat, champ.”
“I can’t move.”
“Oh no, the beast is tired,” Shea teased. “Someone bring him a juice box.”
Larissa chuckled and knelt beside him, offering a cold glass of coconut water and a protein bar. “Here. Electrolytes. Rebuild your mana, Dark Lord.”
Allen stared at it. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“I always carry post-sex recovery kits,” she said matter-of-factly.
“You’re terrifying,” he whispered. He drank it anyway.
Alice sat at his feet and began massaging his calves with lotion. “Your muscles are twitching.”
“They’re not twitching,” he said. “They’re dying.”
“Same thing,” she said cheerfully.
Shea pushed his shoulder gently, guiding his head down until it landed right between her breasts.
“Oh no,” he murmured. “What’s happening.”
“You’re being pampered,” she said, stroking his hair.
Vivian flopped down on the other side and did the same, sandwiching his head between their cleavage like it was a silk-lined pillow trap.
“I have questions,” he said flatly.
“You’re not allowed to speak,” Vivian said.
“But—”
“Shh,” Shea whispered. “You worked hard. This is your reward.”
“Boobs are my reward?”
“You said you were dying,” Vivian added. “So now you get to suffocate in luxury.”
Allen groaned again. “This is how kings fall.”
“Kings rise again,” Jane said, laying a soft robe across his legs. “But only after snacks.”
Bella returned with a plate of sliced fruit, honeyed toast, and soft cheese. “I brought food.”
“That’s foreplay,” Zoe said.
“No. That’s afterplay,” Larissa corrected.
Azura brought a warm, wet cloth and wiped the sweat from Allen’s neck. Her hands were soft. Her touch gentle. She didn’t say anything.
Just leaned in and kissed his temple.
He exhaled.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t joke. Just… let himself breathe.
His head was still nestled between Shea and Vivian’s pillowy chests, both of them absently stroking his hair like they’d claimed him as furniture and were perfectly content with it.
The room was quiet now. Dim. Warm. Afternoon sliding into that soft orange lull of almost-evening. The air still smelled like skin and snacks and summer sweat.
Allen blinked slowly. “Just one question.”
Eight heads tilted toward him with varying degrees of mischief and concern.
He didn’t lift his head. Just groaned, “Who’s gonna cook dinner?”
That earned a laugh. A full one.
“We just broke you,” Bella said. “And you’re thinking about food?”
“I’m hungry because you broke me,” Allen mumbled.
“I vote we cook,” Jane said, already tying her hair back with a scrunchie she found in the couch cushions. “He literally can’t stand.”
“He can’t even blink properly,” Zoe added, poking his cheek.
“I can blink,” Allen muttered.
“Barely,” Vivian said, pinching his jaw affectionately.
“So it’s decided,” Shea announced. “We cook. You—” she tapped his forehead, “—sit. Or lie down. Or melt. Just don’t move.”
“I accept these terms,” he groaned.
“Want anything specific?” Larissa asked, already standing and stretching like a cat. “Comfort food? Recovery soup? A gallon of water?”
“Anything,” Allen said. “So long as I don’t have to lift a finger.”
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