Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives

Villain Ch 1659. Private Theater

And Mila?

Her breath shortened. Her face glowed warm. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

Allen’s voice finally broke the thick silence, his tone a low whisper just inches from her ear.

“You seem a little warm.”

Mila gasped softly. “N-No. I’m fine.”

He smiled. “Are you?”

She swallowed. “Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he whispered. “Because it gets warmer.”

On the screen, the first intimate scene between the two leads began.

The chemistry on screen practically radiated off the walls. Soft gasps. Lingering glances. Hands sliding over exposed skin. The camera never crossed into full explicitness — but the suggestions were far worse.

Mila’s entire body pulsed with heat.

And Allen just… watched.

The movie.

Her.

Both.

Perfectly composed.

Perfectly patient.

His hand stayed right there between them. Still. Waiting.

The tension in the room was no longer breathable.

It was drowning.

Mila bit her lip hard. Her pulse was so loud she swore he could hear it.

Allen’s voice slid against her skin again, quieter this time. “Tell me if you need me to stop, Mila.”

The way he said her name nearly undid her.

She barely whispered. “I… don’t.”

Allen’s eyes glinted softly under the dim light. His smile was quiet, dangerous, and utterly controlled.

He didn’t answer her right away. He didn’t need to. The tension between them was already its own conversation — hanging, tightening, breathing in the dim flicker of the private screen.

His hand remained where it was — open, available — while Mila sat beside him, tense and burning but unwilling to pull away.

The movie played on. The warm glow of the screen reflected off her flushed cheeks, her skin practically humming with heat.

Allen leaned back slightly into the plush leather of the recliner, pretending to relax as if he was simply there to enjoy the film.

But his mind was spinning.

There was a problem.

A complicated one.

If he wanted to take this further — really take it further — there was still a gap.

They hadn’t dated.

She wasn’t his girlfriend.

Not officially.

Not yet.

Yes, he could feel her crumbling under his presence. Yes, she clearly wanted more. But Allen never forced. That wasn’t his style. That wasn’t how he played.

The real question now was…

‘Was this enough?’

As the movie pushed forward, Mila’s nervous energy kept bubbling higher.

And then—

Without any real warning, she reached for him.

Her hand slid over his, gripping it hard.

Allen’s eyes flicked down briefly at the sight of her delicate fingers clutching his so tightly, almost like she was trying to anchor herself.

She was nervous.

Burning.

Trying to breathe through the heat the film was pouring into her bloodstream.

Allen said nothing, simply letting his fingers slowly return the pressure — not gripping, not pulling, just holding. Steady.

The movie had entered the thirty-first minute. Allen’s gaze shifted briefly back to the screen.

And that’s when his own problem started.

Onscreen, the main characters were tangled in one of those artful intimate scenes. Tasteful lighting, breathy gasps, soft moans filling the room as clothes fell off and hands roamed on bare skin.

Allen sipped his champagne.

And cursed internally.

‘Damn it… I can’t concentrate…’

The sensual heat of the scene was one thing. But for Allen — his mind had already started working in the worst possible direction.

The author brain kicked in.

The Harem Author brain.

His focus shifted automatically — not toward Mila or the tension between them — but toward breaking the scene down like source material.

The erotic scene unfolded on the screen, but Allen’s mind didn’t watch it like a normal person. His writer brain chopped it up into fragments — pieces — broken words flashing like neon signs inside his head.

‘Soft breath. Hesitation before first touch. Tension… drawn out… perfect. Fingers tracing spine.’

He mentally filed every movement, every glance, every moan into organized boxes inside his head. Plot seeds. Emotional hooks.

It was, frankly, absurd.

Even as Mila burned beside him — her breathing shallow, her head gently lowering closer — his brain was practically outlining his next three chapters for a new novel.

‘The use of hands right before the first kiss — brilliant. Note that for tension build-up.’

Allen sipped again, forcing himself not to smirk at how completely broken his own mind was.

The moans filled the room again, echoing softly across the luxury sound system. The scene was growing hotter, the actors pressed against each other, breathing each other’s names.

Her fingers squeezed his tighter. Her head dropped gently against his shoulder, like she couldn’t quite bear the tension anymore.

Allen shifted slightly, letting her rest there, adjusting his posture to make it easier — but still didn’t fully move to close the gap.

Let her come closer.

Let her surrender herself to the moment.

That was always the game.

His thumb traced a light, almost accidental circle against her knuckles. Just enough for her to feel it.

Mila’s breath trembled.

And still — the movie played on.

Allen’s mind flipped between two realities — one part cataloging the cinematic techniques, the other quietly savoring the fact that Mila was completely melting beside him, unable to hide how much his presence was burning through her.

‘This director knows how to handle restrained dominance scenes. Interesting…’

Onscreen, the male lead whispered something filthy into the heroine’s ear. Mila shifted again beside him, pressing just slightly closer into Allen’s side as if trying to bury herself in his presence.

Allen glanced down at her briefly.

Her face was flushed. Her breathing shallow. Her thighs had pressed together again.

She probably didn’t even realize how much her body was betraying her right now.

And Allen?

Still utterly still.

The room grew even quieter as the final scenes arrived — the film’s climax giving way to slower, intimate aftermath moments. The credits began to roll. The screen dimmed.

The movie was finished.

The heavy silence remained.

Mila didn’t move.

Her head was still on his shoulder. Her hand still gripped his. Her breathing slightly ragged.

Allen finally exhaled, his own smile faint as he whispered to himself.

“Perfect.”

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