Villain MMORPG: Almighty Devil Emperor and His Seven Demonic Wives - Chapter 1808

Chapter 1808: Insecurity

Villain Ch 1808. Insecurity

Her body was already betraying her—shivering, trembling, melting beneath his weight. She didn’t even realize he was sliding his hands under her shirt until the fabric lifted, cool air brushing against her heated skin.

And then—he pulled it away.

Gently. Almost reverently.

She gasped, a small sound, half-surprised, half-ashamed. Her arms twitched like she might cover herself, but Allen’s eyes—steady, unhurried—stopped her.

Still, her heart pounded. Maybe she was cold.

No.

Maybe she was embarrassed.

Or nervous.

Or maybe all of it at once.

Because reality crashed into her… Allen had already been with seven other girls. Seven. Each of them gorgeous, powerful, confident.

Would he compare?

Would she fall short?

She thought of Shea’s perfect figure, Vivian’s model curves, Larissa’s toned strength. Each image stabbed her with insecurity. Her cheeks burned hot.

Allen must’ve noticed. He always did.

“You’re tense,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her side.

“Yeah,” Azura admitted, her voice small. “Just a bit nervous…”

She hesitated, then blurted, “I mean—I might not be as perfect as your other girlfriends.”

Allen stilled. Blinked once. Then—chuckled. Not mocking. Just… surprised.

“I never compare them,” he said softly. “Not to each other. Not to you.”

Her eyes darted to his, searching for a crack, some hint of insincerity. But all she found was calm certainty.

“Each one,” he continued, leaning closer so his breath tickled her ear, “is different. Personality. Body. Soul. That’s what makes them precious.”

He kissed the corner of her jaw. “Don’t be nervous.”

Azura swallowed, her chest so tight it almost hurt.

And then he touched her.

Really touched her.

Allen’s hands traced her body like he was mapping it for the first time—slow, deliberate, never rushing. Down her arms, across her waist, along the curve of her side. Her skin prickled, every nerve raw and alive.

She shuddered. Her face felt hot—like it was burning from the inside.

Yes. She was nervous. But despite that… every brush of his hand was delicious. Every graze of his fingers made her want more.

She saw it. Felt it. Where his hands roamed. The way he lingered—not grabbing, not forcing—just exploring. Learning her.

A gasp slipped from her lips before she could stop it. The sound echoed in the small apartment, sharp and needy.

She was horny.

Her mind screamed the word and it made her blush harder, but her body didn’t care.

And Allen?

Allen smirked.

Without breaking her gaze, he dipped his head lower, teasing along her chest, and—Azura’s eyes widened—he pulled at the clasp of her bra.

Not with his fingers.

With his teeth.

Her breath left her in a shaky laugh, equal parts shocked and thrilled. “Allen—”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The strap gave way, fabric sliding loose. His hands peeled it off slowly, deliberately, like he was unwrapping something he’d waited a long time for.

Azura whimpered, pressing her palms flat against the couch cushion, her heart so fast it hurt.

Allen’s gaze darkened as he looked at her. Not cruel. Not cold. Just… intense.

Like she was the only thing in the world worth seeing.

Her body ached under it. Her mind was spinning.

And then his hand moved lower—trailing from her stomach, skimming her hip, sliding closer to the waistband of her panties.

Her whole body jolted.

“Allen…” Her voice cracked, a mix of fear and want.

He paused. Looked at her.

“Still nervous?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “Y-yeah.”

He smirked, but his thumb stroked her side reassuringly. “Good. I like nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because it means this is real for you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. “And because it means I get to show you just how good nervous can feel.”

Her breath hitched.

He tugged gently at the edge of her panties, teasing, not yet taking them off. Her thighs tensed. Her lips parted in another gasp.

Azura thought she could hold it together—keep some measure of control—but then he slid them down with that same deliberate slowness he’d used with every piece of her clothing. Like he wasn’t just undressing her; like he was stripping her down to something deeper, peeling away every wall she thought she had.

And then she was bare.

Her breath caught. Heat surged in her cheeks, down her neck, flooding her chest. She wanted to cover herself—arms twitching as though to fold over—but Allen caught her wrists.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, firmly.

Her pulse skipped. “I—I can’t—”

“You can,” he cut in, voice low, steady. His grip wasn’t painful, but it pinned her all the same. “Let me see you.”

Azura’s throat worked as she swallowed. Her skin prickled under his gaze, every inch of her hyperaware. She’d dreamed of being looked at like this. But being in the reality of it—Allen’s eyes sweeping over her, dark and sharp and burning—it was too much. Too hot. Too real.

Her whole body shivered.

Allen smirked, leaning down, his breath brushing the shell of her ear. “You’re shaking.”

“I… I’m nervous,” she whispered.

“I know.” His lips grazed her jaw, featherlight, before dragging lower. “That’s why I’m taking my time.”

And then his hands began to move.

Slow. Purposeful. Mapping her the way he always did everything—like strategy, like precision, like he was memorizing her. His palms skimmed over her arms, her sides, the flat of her stomach. His thumbs traced lazy circles against her hips, grounding her even as her nerves spiked higher.

Azura gasped when his hand moved up, brushing against the curve of her breast. It was just a touch, not even a full grasp, but her whole body jolted.

Allen chuckled against her skin. “Sensitive?”

Her face flamed. “D-don’t—”

“Don’t what?” he teased, finally cupping her fully now, thumb brushing over her nipple with just enough pressure to make her back arch.

Her breath stuttered. She hated how fast she melted under that touch. How much she wanted more.

“Allen…” Her voice cracked, a half-whimper, half-plea.

His other hand slid down, tracing the line of her thigh, stopping just short of where she thought she couldn’t handle it. He was tormenting her, she realized. Teasing her with what he could do but wasn’t—yet.

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