NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 98

Chapter 98: Kiss Me?!

“Effortless, isn’t it?”

Artis quipped, his grin widening as he locked eyes with Lui, the smirk of a man who knew he was winning.

“Look how easy this is. I could bounce her up and down all day like this, and she’d never have to worry about me dropping her.”

And with that, he began to demonstrate. Slowly, deliberately, he moved her body up and down, her ass grinding against his throbbing bulge with every lift.

The friction had Juliana gasping, her lips trembling as she tried to stifle the sounds spilling out.

Her boobs—those glorious, bouncy tits—jiggled with every motion, the hardened tips of her nipples peeking through the thin fabric of her robe, brushing against it like they had a vendetta.

Lui was frozen, his fists clenched, but his eyes betrayed him, locked onto the bouncing spectacle like a moth to a flame.

Artis caught the look and laughed low in his throat, leaning in closer to Juliana’s ear as his hands adjusted her position slightly, his fingers brushing dangerously high.

“See, Lui…”

Artis murmured, loud enough for Lui to hear.

“This is how you really handle a woman. No half-assed attempts, no dropping the ball. Just smooth, controlled, and… deeply satisfying.”

Juliana’s head lolled back against his shoulder, her breath hitching as her robe shifted just a bit more, making Lui nearly choke on air.

The poor bastard looked ready to combust, whether from rage, jealousy, or the tent pitching in his pants was anyone’s guess.

After a while of up-and-down action that could’ve doubled as a workout routine, Artis finally slid Juliana down.

Of course, his hands weren’t just helping her balance; they were roaming her body like they had a map and a mission.

By the time her feet hit the ground, his hands were comfortably cupping her boobs like they were a pair of stress balls he couldn’t resist squeezing.

“There you go. All done. If you need someone to give you a lift—to the counter or anywhere else—you know who to call, right?”

He leaned in close, his voice dripping into her ear like honey spiked with mischief. She giggled, the kind of laugh that could probably make flowers bloom, if flowers were into dirty jokes.

“Obviously… my husband, right?”

She quipped, throwing him a cheeky side-eye and a smirk that could’ve melted steel.

Before he could answer, she grabbed his hands and pried them off her chest like she was reclaiming stolen property. Artis laughed, the deep, sexy kind of chuckle that suggested he’d happily do it all over again.

Juliana took a step away, her hips swaying like she was issuing a silent dare, and flopped onto the cushion with all the grace of a queen who knew her throne was comfortable as hell. Artis, too, sat on his place.

Lui, poor guy, didn’t say a damn word. He just sat there, staring at the table like it owed him answers, his face redder than a tomato in a sauna.

The blatant flirting between those two—like he wasn’t even there—was doing things to him. Bad things. Or maybe good things.

His pants were definitely tighter, and not because they’d shrunk in the wash.

‘Why? Why the fuck am I turned on right now? I should be pissed off, not rock-hard and fantasizing about… shit…’

Lui’s brain was trying to throw a tantrum, but his cock had already decided it was the boss. Every passing second made it worse—his arousal climbing like it was late to a meeting.

‘What if I just… tested this theory?’

He thought, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.

‘What if I let this play out and see if I like it?’

He took a deep breath, nodded like he was psyching himself up for an Olympic event, and steeled his nerves.

“Phew… let’s continue, shall we?”

Artis’s smooth-as-silk voice cut through the haze in Lui’s mind like a knife dipped in butter.

Lui blinked back to reality. His mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

“Let me try it.”

Artis froze mid-reach, raising his hands like he’d been caught trying to steal cookies out of the jar. With a sly grin, he leaned back, clearly amused.

“All yours, Lui. Show me what you’ve got.”

Lui grabbed the bottle like it was a lifeline, his hands just slightly shaky. He spun it with all the determination of a man trying to impress a jury.

It wasn’t nearly as smooth or fast as when Artis did it—probably because Artis spun it like he had decades of experience making panties drop with a flick of his wrist.

Still, the bottle spun, wobbled a bit, and then came to a decisive stop. The neck pointed squarely at Juliana, while the flat end aimed directly at Lui himself.

His heart skipped a beat.

‘Oh, fuck.’

Juliana clapped her hands like a kid who’d just spotted candy, while Artis just raised an eyebrow and shrugged, already bracing himself for some boring-as-hell question about their marriage.

“Truth. I choose truth.”

Juliana chirped, her voice sugary sweet.

But the moment the words left her mouth, Lui fired off his question like a bullet from a loaded gun:

“Young and muscular, or old and weak—who would you choose to satisfy all your needs? And I mean every single one.”

The air in the room went dead silent. Artis blinked, his jaw slightly slack. For the first time in his smug, smooth-talking life, he was genuinely caught off guard.

‘What the fuck? Did this dude seriously just go there?’

Artis thought, his brain scrambling to process Lui’s sudden transformation from awkward sidekick to shit-stirring chaos gremlin.

Juliana, on the other hand, looked like she’d been slapped with a fish. Her delighted smile vanished, replaced by a mix of concern and “oh, hell no.”

“H-Husband… are you oka—”

“Just answer the fucking question, wife. It’s simple, right?”

Lui cut her off, his voice steady but his eyes gleaming with unhinged determination.

Juliana froze, blinking at him like he’d just suggested she try skydiving without a parachute.

Slowly, she leaned forward, reaching for the alcohol bottle like it was the only thing that could save her sanity.

But before she could grab it, Artis’s hand shot out, catching her wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, his smirk returning as he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath.

“Nah, nah…”

Artis interrupted, wagging his finger like a disappointed dad catching a kid sneaking cookies.

“You already had a glass last time. No more booze for you unless you answer this question from…”

He paused dramatically, pointing at Lui.

“…Father.”

Lui nodded solemnly, the two of them suddenly united like they were co-presidents of the “Keep Juliana Honest” club.

Artis was absolutely sure now: young and muscular was obviously him, while old and weak had to be Lui.

‘He’s testing the fucking waters.’

Artis thought, barely holding back a grin.

“I…”

Juliana stammered, her eyes darting between the two of them like she was trapped between a rock and two horny idiots who’d just discovered teamwork.

Seeing no way out, she retracted her hand from the bottle, her face turning a delightful shade of shit, shit, shit. She took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself.

“I… uh…”

“Just tell the truth, wife.”

Lui said with the calm confidence of a man about to cause chaos. His hand casually slid onto her thigh, tapping it like he was coaching her through a quiz show.

“No need to overthink it. Just speak your mind.”

Juliana gulped, her face a mix of embarrassment and defiance.

“I would choose…”

Artis leaned in, raising an eyebrow, not expecting anything useful but enjoying the drama nonetheless.

“… the young and muscular.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it landed like a bomb in the room.

A sly grin spread across Artis’s face, but before he could bask in his imagined glory, Juliana fumbled to add.

“I mean… a young man can… uh, help me with all my needs. You know, like… full of energy and, uh… useful for things like… helping me around the house.”

Her words tumbled out in a desperate attempt to sound innocent, but her gaze flicked to Artis for a split second, betraying her thoughts.

Then, as if realizing she’d said too much, she quickly turned her head to the side, pretending the wall was suddenly very interesting.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Lui said with a smug grin, spinning the bottle again like he was auditioning for Master of Ceremonies at the Awkward Marriage Olympics.

This time, the bottle landed on Juliana again, with the flat end aimed squarely at Artis, who immediately flashed her a grin so devilish it could’ve signed a deal with Satan.

“Well, well… what’s it gonna be?”

Artis asked, his tone smooth enough to melt butter.

Juliana hesitated, her gaze darting between Artis and Lui like she was stuck in a game of Who’s the Bigger Asshole.

Meanwhile, Lui was feeling something stir below the belt—an unmistakable tingle that made him sit up straighter. He knew Artis was about to drop something filthy, something guaranteed to push boundaries.

And fuck, he wanted to see it.

“D-Dare… I choose dare.”

Juliana stammered, her voice shaky as hell. She already knew she was fucked, metaphorically speaking—for now.

Artis was going to ask her to do something lewd, and with Lui sitting right there, she’d have no choice but to either chug alcohol or comply.

And if she drank, she’d lose the round, putting her entirely at Artis’s mercy for whatever depraved shit he cooked up next.

Artis raised a hand and tapped his lips with a deliberate slowness that could’ve made a nun reconsider her vows.

“Kiss me…”