NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain-Chapter 156: Goddam, Mommy (2)

Before she could process anything, Artis's shameless hand came down hard on her ass, his palm sinking into the plush flesh before giving it a downright filthy squeeze.

Juliana jumped, a sharp moan ripping from her throat before she could choke it back.

Lui, who had not signed up for any of this, immediately spat out his soup like a man witnessing a live-action porno he did not pay for.

His eyes were wide, his soul drifting out of his body as the absolute audacity of what he had just seen burned itself into his brain forever.

"Oh~ my god! Ahh~!"

Juliana's voice came out in shaky, breathy moans as Artis's fingers dug into her plush ass, kneading it like it was the finest damn dough he'd ever worked with.

Slap!

Another squeeze. Another shameless grope.

Her legs quivered, and she felt it—the slow, traitorous heat building between her thighs, like her body had already decided it was on his side, even if her brain was screaming at her to be fucking normal.

Meanwhile, Lui sat there, eyes downcast, focusing on his goddamn soup like it was the most fascinating thing in the universe.

He didn't dare look up.

Not because he didn't want to.

Oh, he wanted to.

He wanted to see exactly how Artis's hands looked sinking into the soft, pillowy flesh of his wife's ass. But he was too prideful—or too terrified—to ask.

So he just sat there, his face red with pure, unfiltered shame, mechanically shoveling soup into his mouth, pretending he wasn't hearing his wife moaning from another man's touch.

"Ohh~ Ahhh…!"

Juliana's body trembled, her knees threatening to buckle.

Artis leaned in, his hot breath tickling her ear.

"Do you want to do it right now, right here?"

His voice was husky, dripping with smug arrogance.

"Because I'll gladly fuck you right here in front of your husband."

Juliana's eyes went wide. Her head snapped toward Lui, who was visibly suffering, forcing himself to eat his soup like his life depended on it.

She panicked.

"N-no… not here…!"

Her voice was small, desperate, barely above a whisper.

She wasn't even sure who she was trying to convince—him or herself.

Artis smirked. He had her.

"Fine. Then let's go."

Finally. Thank fucking god.

Juliana let out a shaky breath. Lui, meanwhile, still didn't look up—because he knew, deep in his soul, that if he did, he might just drop dead right there at the table.

"See you later, Lui. Make sure you stay awake—you might need to help her walk to bed when I'm done with her."

Spit take.

Lui choked—literally—on his soup. A strangled sound left his throat as broth splattered all over the table.

Juliana froze, her entire body heating up to volcanic levels, while Artis? The bastard strutted out with the confidence of a warlord who just claimed another man's land.

A match made in heaven—one wrapped in shame, the other coated in shamelessness.

As they passed by, Lui's head snapped around so fast he nearly got whiplash.

Why?

Because he had to see it.

He needed one last glimpse of his wife's plush, squeezable ass being claimed by another man's grip.

But fate, that cruel, heartless bitch, betrayed him.

His eyes locked onto Artis's hand just as it left Juliana's cheeks.

Too late.

The warmth was gone. The jiggle had ceased. The sinful flesh returned to neutrality.

And Lui?

Lui felt robbed.

Disappointment crashed into him like a tragic first love failure.

His stomach twisted with something he didn't want to name.

Who the hell would want to see their wife getting groped by another man? Who in their right mind would feel aroused by it?

Well.

That man was Lui.

And his soul wept.

But just as the duo reached the door, Artis did the worst thing he could have done.

He turned.

With the smuggest, most wicked smirk—like a man who knew exactly what was going through Lui's mind.

Like a man who knew he had just cracked open something inside of him.

Artis didn't stop. He just kept walking—smooth, casual, like a king leaving his kingdom. But just before stepping through the door, he winked. And then?

SMACK.

A thunderous slap echoed through the house.

Juliana's body lurched forward, her hands instinctively grabbing the doorframe to keep from collapsing.

"Ahn~!"

That sound.

That loud, filthy, sinful sound.

It ripped through the air, shattering the last, fragile piece of Lui's sanity.

His chair scraped backward as he shot up from his seat, his soup completely forgotten. His whole body locked up as his gaze fixated on the scene of depravity unfolding before him.

He saw it.

The imprint of Artis's fingers sinking into his wife's flesh.

He saw the way her soft, bouncy ass conformed to his palm, the way Artis let his fingers dig deep, as if claiming ownership over something that had never been his to take.

And yet—he took it anyway.

Lui's throat dried up, his pulse thundered in his ears, and his stomach twisted into a violent knot.

But worst of all? His cock twitched. Heat flooded his veins as his gaze darted to Juliana's face.

Her cheeks? Scarlet.

Her lips? Slightly parted, glistening.

Her eyes?

Fucking dazed.

She was breathless, shaken, her whole body still shuddering from the force of the impact.

Artis?

That bastard was taking his sweet time.

His fingers twitched, kneading the flesh beneath his palm like a baker testing the softness of freshly risen dough.

Then, he licked his lips.

Slow. Deliberate.

Like a man savoring the taste of something forbidden. And then?

He looked directly at Lui. He held that taunting, cocky stare for a long, agonizing moment.

Then—he winked. Again.

And just like that—he turned and walked out, disappearing into the streets.

Lui collapsed back into his chair, panting like he'd just run a marathon. His whole body felt wrong—hot, feverish, confused.

His hands shook as he looked down at his lap. And there, on the front of his pants—

A single, betrayal-stained, sticky, wet spot.

His first cucky drop.

A shuddering breath left his lips. He bolted from the table, ran straight to his room, and threw himself onto the bed.