NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 110

Chapter 110: Enter, the Husband!

“Slrrp~ Slrrp~”

Her head bobbed, her tongue working like a damn overachiever trying to win Employee of the Month.

Artis grinned, gripping her head and pushing her forward just a little more—just enough to remind her who was in charge.

She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, her body adjusting, her throat preparing for the onslaught like a gladiator stepping into the arena.

“Slrrp~”

“Mmm, seems like you’ve got an idea of what you’re doing. Feels fucking amazing. Now, do that more.”

“Gawk~ Gawk~ Grghh~”

She obeyed instantly, her mouth stretching wider like she was trying to unlock a hidden jaw evolution.

Her head moved with determination, but the truth was, she wasn’t even the one moving it. Artis’s hands were on her, controlling the rhythm, making her go faster, deeper, sloppier.

At this point, thinking was a lost cause. Logic? Gone. Dignity? Also gone. The only thing in her brain was cock, cock, cock. And lucky for her—she had one.

“Ohhh yeah~, that’s it.”

Artis groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair.

“Good girl, Nadia. Keep going, keep moving.”

“Sllllurrrrpppp~”

The sheer enthusiasm had Artis gripping her head tighter, his hips moving on their own like his body had disconnected from his brain and was now running purely on instinct.

Nadia’s head was moving like a damn piston, all rhythm and no hesitation, her enthusiasm at a level that would put professional competitors to shame.

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her hair, his breath hitching.

And then—there it was. That telltale shudder. That full-body oh-fuck-this-is-happening moment.

He was about to explode.

She knew. He knew. Hell, if there were any spirits in the afterlife watching this scene, they knew.

“Oh shit!! Here it comes! Drink up, slut!”

Artis groaned, his voice shaking like a man seeing the gates of heaven swing open.

And then—BOOM.

His cock throbbed hard, and then—holy fuck—the floodgates burst open. Thick, hot, potent-as-fuck ropes shot straight down her throat like she was chugging from the holy grail of depravity.

“Gluck~ slurp~ gurgle~”

Nadia didn’t flinch, didn’t gag—no hesitation, no retreat, just vibes. She took every drop, swallowing like a woman who had discovered her true purpose in life.

And damn, it just kept coming.

She lost track of time. Had it been seconds? Minutes? Eras? She was just there, drinking, gulping, letting out little moans as she swallowed, while Artis above her looked like he had been struck by divine intervention.

His groans dragged out, his body shaking, his soul leaving his body for a brief moment—until, finally, it ended.

His shudders died down, his grip in her hair loosened, and instead of the rough, commanding hold, his fingers slid into something softer—his hand now caressing her head like she was the best damn thing that had ever happened to him.

Cock still in her mouth, Nadia looked up at him like a puppy begging for a treat, her wide eyes glistening with obedience and something even filthier.

Spit and drool mixed with thick streaks of cum dribbled down her chin, clinging to her lips, dripping onto her tits like an unholy baptism.

The whole picture was so fucking obscene it could make a priest rethink his vows.

Artis let out a satisfied chuckle.

“Good girl.”

He kept petting, his fingers combing through her hair like he was rewarding his favorite pet.

“Good girl, good girl…”

Finally, with a slick pop, he pulled his cock out of her mouth, leaving her lips wet and slightly parted, her breath hot against his shaft.

The damn thing was still glistening, still throbbing slightly, resting right on her face like it belonged there.

Nadia blinked up at him, licking her lips slowly, savoring the taste like a sommelier analyzing a fine wine.

Artis smirked.

“You cleaned my tongue since it had some soup in it. Aren’t you gonna clean his head since…”

He didn’t even need to finish. She already knew.

Without breaking eye contact, Nadia leaned in, her lips parting as she dragged her tongue up the length of his cock with the kind of dedication that should’ve earned her a damn medal.

The way she wrapped those lips around the head again, giving it a slow, deliberate swirl with her tongue—fuck, it was almost spiritual.

Artis groaned, resting a hand on her cheek.

“Good girl. Now, push him back into my pants and zip it up.”

There was something so deliciously degrading about it—like tucking a well-fed beast back into its cage.

She pressed one last, sinful kiss onto the head of his cock—like a worshiper leaving an offering at the altar of depravity.

Slowly, she pulled away, her lips still glistening, her breath warm against his length. Her gaze never wavered, locked onto his shaft like it was the center of her fucking universe.

It was semi-hard now—not the raging steel-hard battering ram it had been, but something more… flexible. Like a coiled beast, relaxed but ready, just waiting for an excuse to pounce.

“Push it back into my pants and zip it up.”

His voice snapped her out of her daze. She blinked, then gulped—her throat working visibly as she nodded, a little too eager to obey.

Her delicate fingers wrapped around his cock, giving it a tentative squeeze, like she was testing its current state.

“It’s soft… not hard like before…”

She whispered, almost in awe, as if she had just discovered some ancient, sacred knowledge.

Artis let out a low chuckle, watching with amusement as she gingerly tucked his cock back into the confines of his pants, like she was putting away a valuable artifact.

Once it was nestled safely inside, she carefully pulled the zipper up, biting her lip as she did, as if mourning the temporary farewell.

Click. Locked away. For now.

Artis grinned, reaching out to ruffle her hair like she was his prize-winning pet.

“What a good girl you are, Nadia…”

She practically preened under his touch, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction, accepting his praise like a cat basking in the sun.

And then—BAM!

The door suddenly slid open, slamming against the wall.

Both their heads snapped toward the intruder, eyes wide, expressions frozen.

For a second, there was only silence. The kind of silence that happened when someone walked into a room and immediately regretted everything.

Artis didn’t move. Nadia didn’t move. His cock twitched.

And the poor bastard at the door? He just stood there, blinking, processing, the gears in his head desperately trying to make sense of what the fuck he just walked into.

At the door stood Chen, looking like he had just crawled out of a goddamn grave.

Dark circles hung under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in weeks, his already thin frame now resembling a malnourished street beggar.

He was even skinnier than the last time Artis had seen him—like life itself had been sucking him dry.

But nothing could compare to the sight that greeted him.

His wife, Nadia, looking thoroughly ruined.

Her lips, swollen and glistening. Her chin, smeared with spit, drool, and a thick, milky-white mess that had dripped down to her heaving tits, pooling between them like a goddamn sacrament.

Her body was gleaming with sweat, her breath uneven, her expression somewhere between frustration and satisfaction.

And Artis looked as smug as ever. Relaxed. Smirking. Standing there like he owned the place—and possibly his wife.

Chen’s feet moved on instinct, carrying him forward in quick strides. He came to a halt just a few feet away, his sunken, tired eyes darting between his wife and the man beside her.

Nadia held her breath.

She wanted to scream at him, she wanted to unleash all her pent-up anger, but the truth was—fuck, the man just looked pitiful. A shell of his former self. Meanwhile, her Art was growing sexier by the goddamn second.

The contrast was unbearable.

“Hmph!”

She let out an exaggerated huff, snapping her head to the side with the kind of sass only a woman who had just been properly handled could muster.

Her arms crossed tightly over her chest—pushing her breasts up just enough to make her point.

Chen’s dazed, exhausted expression contorted with confusion. His brows furrowed, his lips parted slightly as his foggy brain attempted to process what the fuck he was seeing.

Then, finally—

“W-What’s that on your chin?”

Even through the haze of sleep deprivation, starvation, and whatever existential crisis he was going through, he could see it.

That white liquid. That obscene, undeniable evidence. Not just on her lips, but trailing down her fucking tits.

She didn’t even flinch. Didn’t wipe it away. Didn’t even bother looking guilty. Instead, she let the corner of her mouth curl into the slightest smirk.

Artis had been this close to stepping in, maybe throwing out some half-assed excuse about the whiteness being from the soup or some shit because that was a good idea.

The soup was creamy and was in white in colour, her lips and tits were smeared with creamy and white substance, so it was only logical to the say it.

But Nadia?

Nadia didn’t give a fuck.

“Cum.”