Villain Ch 1738. Bite Marks and Lipstick Print
The dining hall smelled like heaven.
Not the angelic kind. No, this was the kind of heaven that wore syrup and butter and fresh ground coffee like perfume. Warmth clung to every breath, sunlight spilled lazily through the wide windows, and the girls had somehow migrated from post-orgy disarray to cozy breakfast chaos in less than an hour.
Allen?
His legs ached. His abs felt like they'd been used as a mattress and a workout bench. There were bite marks on his collarbone and a suspiciously perfect lipstick print near his navel that he was not asking about.
But he was breathing.
And more importantly?
He felt good.
Not fake good. Not "I survived another day" good.
Real good.
The kind of good that made his coffee taste stronger. The kind that made his usual, measured mask sit just a little looser on his face.
