Novel Full Chapter 1926: Certified Dicktator
Chapter 1926: Certified Dicktator
Villain Ch 1926. Certified Dicktator
And another wild night came. Loud. Bright. Stupid in all the right ways.
Cards slapped the floor. Screams echoed down the villa hallway—some of victory, some of betrayal.
Somehow it turned into a bet. Then a dare. Then lingerie. Then Jane’s dirty sticker came out. Again.
Allen lost track of how many were slapped on his chest. Or lower. And whose hands were where.
And then it wasn’t just giggles and games anymore. It was bodies pressed together in the hot spring. Steam clinging to skin. Laughter dissolving into moans. Zoe’s nails down his spine. Shea’s lips on his throat. Azura’s trembling breath in his ear.
It all blurred.
The kind of night you didn’t just live—you survived.
The morning after always hits like a boss-level hangover.
Allen grunted.
His body refused to move. Even blinking felt like a chore. His head throbbed, not from alcohol, but from sheer overstimulation.
He cracked open one eye.
Ceiling. White.
The villa. Bedroom. Good. He wasn’t dead. Yet.
“Damn it…” he whispered, his voice so hoarse it felt like someone had sandpapered his throat while he slept.
His limbs didn’t feel like limbs. They felt like… weights. Sore. Heavy. Used.
Ached in places he didn’t know had muscles.
His abs felt like he’d done three hundred sit-ups. His lower back felt like it’d been used as a springboard. His thighs were sore. His jaw… okay, yeah, that one was definitely from all the kissing. Probably.
He blinked again, slower this time.
The room looked like a battlefield.
No, not even. A post-apocalyptic playground of chaos.
Cards everywhere. Uno. Strip poker. Something that used a spinner and way too many suggestive challenges. He spotted a bra draped over the lamp. A red lace thong hanging from the curtain rod like some victory flag.
Stickers.
So many stickers.
He had one on his chest that read “Certified Dicktator.” And a heart-shaped one stuck on his left thigh that simply said “Yummy.”
Allen exhaled through his nose. Not laughing. Not sighing. Just… existing.
Sheets were tangled. Bodies were tangled.
He shifted slightly, instantly regretting it as someone’s arm flopped over his stomach.
Azura. Her hair spilled across his chest, face buried into the crook of his shoulder. She was completely nude, one leg curled over his like she was trying to cocoon herself around him. Her expression was peaceful, but her cheeks were still flushed. Probably from exhaustion.
To his right—Zoe. Out cold. Mouth slightly open. Her hair was tied, and there were marks all over her neck. His.
One of her hands was tucked under his thigh. Territorial even in sleep.
Shea was sprawled half on top of Zoe and half off the bed, one leg dangling dangerously close to the floor. She snored. Loudly. A satisfied kind of snore. Like a siren who’d drowned a ship and was now sunbathing on the wreckage.
Vivian was curled against his other side, her fingers loosely curled around his wrist like she was still claiming him even in her dreams.
Jane? Of course she’d claimed the top of the blanket pile. Legs spread like a victorious gremlin queen. Stickers still plastered across her stomach like badges of war.
He turned his head slowly—
Larissa was at the foot of the bed, curled like a cat, red lipstick smeared.
Alice and Bella had taken over the sofa. Naked. Entwined. There were more stickers on them too. Alice had one on her butt that said “Bossy Witch Energy.” Bella had one stuck across her collarbone that read “100% Trouble.”
Allen closed his eyes again.
“…Breakfast,” he muttered.
No one moved.
He didn’t even have the strength to move.
He was dehydrated. He could practically taste the salt on his lips. His tongue felt dry. His whole body radiated heat. The bed was a furnace of limbs and tangled sheets and goddess-tier body heat.
His mind replayed flashes of the night.
Jane on top of the kitchen counter.
Shea straddling him on the couch mid-board game tantrum.
Vivian whispering in his ear while peeling off her bra.
Azura begging shyly, flushed, but not stopping.
Zoe—oh yeah, she’d pulled him into the spring. Literally dragged.
Larissa and Bella trying to see who could make him finish first.
He didn’t even remember how they made it back to the bedroom.
He only remembered crawling. Moaning. Then darkness.
He opened one eye again.
“…I need electrolytes.”
That wasn’t a joke. That was a survival need.
Maybe crawl to the fridge?
Maybe summon water with his phone app?
Or beg one of the girls to move.
He tried to sit up.
Nope.
Azura whimpered softly and clung tighter. Her hand slid lower. Allen froze.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered. “Not now. Please. Mercy.”
She stirred. Rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Still asleep.
He stared at the ceiling.
“Why am I like this…”
The sticker on his chest fluttered as someone shifted. Probably Jane.
From the corner, the smart assistant lit up faintly. Motion detected.
“F*ck.”
If any of the staff entered now, they’d either faint… or sell the footage.
Still.
Allen smiled.
Just barely.
This… was hell.
But it was his kind of hell.
“Guess I survived another night…”
Someone snorted. He looked down. Jane, eyes half-lidded, smirking sleepily.
“You say that like we didn’t go easy on you.”
Allen raised a brow. “Easy?”
She rolled onto her side, dragging the blanket with her, revealing way too much bare skin. “You tapped out during round four, love. I counted.”
“…There was a round four?”
Jane snorted again. “And a round five. Zoe kept score.”
Zoe mumbled in her sleep, “I did… twenty-seven… strokes…”
“…I don’t wanna know,” Allen muttered.
Vivian stretched beside him, fingers curling against his stomach. “Mm. Morning.”
Alice yawned from the sofa. “Did we break him?”
Larissa opened one eye. “We polished him.”
Azura whimpered again, clearly not awake, but murmured, “…don’t… let go…”
Allen’s chest tightened slightly.
Yeah. That got him.
He reached up and rubbed his face. Smiled.
Exhausted. Sore. Overwhelmed.
But warm.
Real.
Not a dream. Not a trap.
He looked at the chaos. The mess. The scattered clothes. The open chocolate boxes. The half-empty wine bottles. The string of fairy lights someone had stuck across the bed’s headboard during their “decorating” spree.
And his girls.