NOVGO.NET Chapter 1852: Harem Vacation [Part 4]
Chapter 1852: Harem Vacation [Part 4]
Villain Ch 1852. Harem Vacation [Part 4]
She flipped through them one by one, humming like a librarian sorting sin by genre.
“Allen’s Favorite Toy.”
“Milk Me.”
“Allen’s Cumhole.”
“Certified Property of Allen.”
“Drink Me – I Moan in 4K.”
“Who needs rope,” Jane murmured, “when words do the tying?”
Her eyes gleamed.
“I hope he checks under the table tonight.”
Meanwhile—
Allen walked barefoot out of his room, trying to act like he wasn’t surrounded by eight women plotting to destroy his dignity with affection, pleasure, and creatively weaponized lingerie.
He passed by Vivian’s room.
Saw a tangle of red lace and a black feather whip.
He paused. Blinked.
‘Damn…’ And he decided to keep walking.
Then Larissa—crouched beside her open bag, smiling down at a bar of dark chocolate shaped like a… yeah. He knew that brand.
He looked away.
Passed Shea’s door.
Toys.
Harnesses.
‘Oh dear lord.’
Alice?
He caught her mid-setup.
The board game in progress. Cards. And Allen knew they weren’t innocent ones.
He didn’t stay long enough to ask questions.
Then Jane’s room.
He peeked in.
Saw the stickers. At least, he could read one of them.
Allen stared.
Then very calmly backed away.
“I am so dead,” he whispered.
He made it to the kitchen.
Sanctuary.
Mostly.
At least there was food.
He plated up some of the catered lunch—truffle mashed potatoes, roasted chicken, buttery vegetables—and sat at the massive island counter. The marble felt cool under his forearms. The smell was rich—herbs, butter, something citrusy under the steam.
He’d barely taken a bite and just sat down before Zoe wandered in, barefoot, tank top a little too loose, expression sleepy.
“Mmm. You’re starting without us,” she mumbled, rubbing her eye.
Allen didn’t even look up. “Nah. Not yet. Just food. Not gonna leave all of you behind.”
He forked a piece of chicken, chewed slowly. “I’m not that dumb.”
Zoe yawned and moved like a cat stalking warmth. She slid onto one of the leather barstools next to him, resting her arms on the counter and dropping her chin with a lazy sigh.
“You sure? Because it smells like you’re trying to sneak an energy buff.”
Allen raised an eyebrow. “That obvious?”
Zoe smirked. “You’ve got the look. The ‘I’m eating to survive what’s coming’ look.”
She poked his truffle potatoes with her fork. “Also, you chose carbs. Heavy carbs.”
“Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not. I’m just saying—if you’re prepping for war, at least let me get my battle rations.”
She grabbed her own plate and served herself like she was gathering ammunition.
Allen took another bite, slow.
Yeah, he was prepping.
Because he knew them.
His girls.
They looked casual.
Relaxed.
Vacation-mode.
But that was the bait.
Always the bait.
They acted innocent.
Laughed like they didn’t have plans. Smiled like they weren’t walking into the dining room one by one dressed like thirst traps pretending to be tourists.
They had plans.
And they were worse than usual.
Which was saying something.
He needed the protein.
And the starch.
And maybe divine intervention.
Because no sane man could handle all that without losing his damn mind.
Even a saint couldn’t.
And Allen was not a saint.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs.
Light. Deliberate.
Vivian.
She turned the corner and strolled in like the world was her personal runway.
Oversized white shirt. No pants. Just the barest flash of dark panties beneath. She wasn’t even pretending to hide it.
The shirt was unbuttoned just enough to imply everything and confirm nothing.
Her hair was down. Loose. Effortless. Her lips—glossed. Of course.
“Well, well,” she purred. “Look who couldn’t wait.”
Zoe didn’t look up from buttering a roll. “Told you he’s carb-loading.”
Vivian giggled and slid behind Allen, looping her arms around his shoulders. Her lips brushed his ear.
“Smart boy,” she whispered. “You’re gonna need it.”
He let out a breath. Slow. Measured.
“I haven’t even done anything yet,” he muttered.
“Yet,” she echoed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before sauntering around to pour herself a glass of chilled juice.
Orange. Of course.
Tangy. Bold. Slightly chaotic.
Allen blinked and tried not to stare.
Failing.
Vivian perched on the counter like a model doing a casual shoot for “Housewife Gone Rogue” and crossed her legs. Shirt hiked. Panty line clear. She sipped slow and smiled at him over the rim.
He returned his attention to his plate.
And then—
Footsteps. Barefoot. A bit uneven.
Jane.
She padded in like she’d been sleepwalking through a witch’s dream.
Crop top. No bra. Shorts riding high on her thighs, like they were flirting with a lawsuit.
“Afternoon,” she said softly, grabbing a fork straight from the drawer and stabbing one of Allen’s potatoes like it owed her rent.
“You’re late,” Zoe said.
“I was reading,” Jane mumbled around the bite, licking a bit of butter off her bottom lip.
Allen cleared his throat. “You all… really settled into the casual dress code, huh?”
Vivian smirked. “Darling, it’s a mountain villa. What do you want us to wear? Ball gowns?”
“I mean—clothes would be great,” Allen said, not even trying to sound convincing.
Jane shrugged. “I am wearing clothes.”
Then added with zero remorse, “Barely. But that’s still technically true.”
He was about to respond—something witty, something dry—but then Bella walked in.
Short dress. Light fabric. Slightly sheer.
Like something meant for a beach day on a private island.
Her hair was pulled up. Her skin glowing from a recent moisturizer assault. Her feet were bare but her anklet shimmered in the soft kitchen lights like she was waiting for someone to kneel and kiss it.
She hummed. “Smells amazing in here. Is that… butter?”
“Potatoes,” Allen said, jaw tight.
“God, I love potatoes,” Bella moaned as she grabbed a plate. “They go with anything.”
Allen blinked. “Okay, this isn’t normal.”
Vivian grinned. “Define normal.”
“Like… clothes. Lunch. Not everyone planning some kind of collective seduction event disguised as a meal.”
“That’s very specific,” Zoe said sweetly.
“I’m just saying,” Allen exhaled.
“You’re suspicious,” Bella sang, taking a bite of roasted chicken.
Allen leaned back slightly and scanned the table.
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