Russian Roulette /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿
CHAPTER 8
“You know exactly what condition I’m in.”
Tessa said, her voice heavy with frustration.
She was still recovering from her gunshot wounds, not to mention the years she had spent relying on suppressants to survive as a Sentinel without a Guide. A single night of guiding wasn’t enough to stabilize a body wracked with side effects.
The gap left by her lack of a Guide had put her in a state that required careful, devoted care. But Vicente was anything but nurturing. How much deeper would she have to sink into his world?
“If you could explain your condition a little more clearly, that would be helpful,” Vicente said, his tone laced with mockery.
The thought of confessing her desperation made Tessa want to bite her tongue right there and end it all. Admitting to him that she couldn’t go a single day without holding him felt like an unbearable humiliation.
Finally, with a voice so small it felt like it would disappear, she spoke.
“I… I need your help. A lot.”
“And how exactly should I help you, Tessa?”
Her Sentinel instincts were screaming at her, demanding that she beg for her Guide. But it was as though a lump had formed in her throat, blocking the words.
Focus on the mission, she told herself. Just hold out a little longer, and I’ll be free. I can go wherever I want and live the rest of my life in peace.
Tessa took a deep breath, forcing herself to steady her resolve.
“Hold… hold me, please.”
“Hold you? If that’s what you want,” Vicente said with a sly smirk.
“Then so be it.”
Vicente wrapped Tessa in his arms as she had requested. She trembled slightly, nestled in his broad embrace, inhaling his scent—deep and musky with a faint trace of cigarette smoke lingering at the edges.
But it wasn’t enough. They both knew it.
If Tessa were a healthy Sentinel, this level of contact might have sufficed. The problem was, she wasn’t. At the very least, skin-to-skin contact was necessary.
But here?
Stripping in a pristine, orderly office felt like a violation of every bit of common sense she had. Yet, did that matter right now? The escape from the pain tormenting her was right in front of her.
She didn’t want to kiss Vicente.
If anything, she’d rather undress.
“I…”
Tessa hesitated.
“Hm?”
Vicente responded softly, his voice brushing her ear.
“Promise me no one will come in here,” she said, her voice trembling.
“And why’s that?”
“You know what it takes to guide properly. You know what has to happen,” she said, her face heating up.
Vicente laughed, the sound cutting through her like a blade. That mocking laugh made her feel as though she was sinking to the lowest depths.
“So, are you suggesting we fuck right here?”
“Just… don’t say anything else. Just answer me. Promise me no one will come in until this is over.”
She demanded, her voice breaking as her shame and frustration brimmed into tears.
His tone softened again as he reached out to gently stroke her cheek.
“No one enters here without my permission,” he murmured.
“Not even if it’s Her Majesty the Queen herself.”
“Swear it. With everything you have.”
Tessa demanded, her voice firm despite her trembling.
“I do.”
Vicente replied without hesitation, his agreement surprisingly smooth.
“I swear it with everything I have.”
After a brief moment of deliberation, Tessa decided to trust him.
The thought of exposing herself in front of his subordinates was unthinkable. Vicente wasn’t the kind of man to break such a promise—or at least, she had to believe he wasn’t.
Resolving herself, Tessa turned around and began removing her clothes layer by layer. Her jacket fell to the floor, followed by the leather holster strapped to her side. As she reached up to loosen her tie, Vicente’s voice cut through the silence.
“Leave that. I tied it so neatly for you.”
“But then, how…” she began, hesitating.
“Just unbutton it,” he instructed.
Leaving it on would look even more ridiculous than taking it all off. But Vicente wasn’t just her Guide—he was practically her master.
In the end, Tessa left the tie as it was and began unbuttoning her shirt from the second button down, her hands trembling. Just as she reached for the button on her trousers, Vicente abruptly turned her around.
Without a word, he lifted her effortlessly and placed her on his desk—pristine, spotless, and perfectly arranged.
“What are you—!” Tessa began, alarmed.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he said smoothly.
“But here… this isn’t—”
“If you’d rather do it on the sofa, feel free,” Vicente cut her off.
“We can leave the cushions, where guests sit, thoroughly stained if that’s your preference.”
Tessa regretted her decision to come here in search of relief.
The bright light above shone mercilessly on her now half-exposed body, highlighting every inch of her vulnerability. The faint scent of polished wood in the air was a stark reminder that this was an office, a place of work, not meant for such acts.
As her gaze shifted to Vicente, still standing fully clothed, her embarrassment deepened.
“Why… why aren’t you…” she stammered.
“Do you want me to undress too?”
He said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Ambrose, but you’re the only one taking off clothes here. I’m not nearly as desperate as you are.”
He glanced at his watch before stepping between her legs, his movements calm and measured, as if he were performing a routine task. His face betrayed no emotion, as though he were still discussing business.
“Do you think I have all day to stand around? Stop wasting time and say what you want. I told you before—unless you ask directly, I won’t do anything.”
Tessa shivered as the cold air against her exposed skin felt like it was setting her on fire. She needed to end this quickly—there was no other choice. She had to accept the guiding, no matter the circumstances.
Don’t overthink this, Tessa, she told herself.
He’s your Guide. The one you’ve been searching for, Tessa reminded herself, forcing the words through her mind as she gathered the courage to speak.
“My chest…”
“Say it properly,” Vicente demanded, his voice firm.
“Touch my chest… with your hands.”
She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Without a word, Vicente reached out, still dressed immaculately in his suit, and pushed her bra upward. Her soft, rounded breasts were exposed under the bright light, her dusky nipples standing out against her pale skin.
His rough hands cupped the tender flesh, kneading gently but firmly. A soft moan of relief escaped from Tessa’s lips, trembling with a mixture of shame and comfort.
Effective guiding required a deep connection between the Sentinel and their Guide. And the most potent form of connection was through physical intimacy. Even the act of experiencing sexual stimulation could significantly aid a Sentinel’s recovery.
Vicente’s hands alternated between squeezing and molding her soft, ample breasts. Her hardened nipples stood out prominently, but he seemed in no rush to touch them directly.
“You look like you want something.”
He remarked casually, breaking the silence.
Tessa, hoping to make the moment more bearable, shut her eyes tightly. She groped for his hands, guiding them toward where she needed him most.
As his fingers brushed over her nipples, a sharp intake of breath escaped her lips. Was this what it meant to connect with a Guide? Her entire body, especially its most sensitive parts, seemed to come alive under his touch, responding with unrestrained joy.
“Like this,” she whispered.
“You could have just said so,” Vicente replied, his tone light with amusement.
When Tessa stubbornly turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, a low chuckle rumbled from him.
“Do they tickle, your nipples?”
“…”
“Come on, Tessa. Be honest.”
He coaxed, his voice deep and teasing.
“Could you… touch me more?” Tessa murmured, her voice barely audible.
Vicente’s fingernails teased her nipples, flicking them upward in a light, deliberate motion. He alternated between kneading her soft flesh and pressing down firmly on the sensitive peaks, eliciting a full-body shiver from Tessa as she gripped his wrists.
The thought of engaging in such indecent acts in a space as formal as this office made her stomach churn with shame. Her mind felt as though it was spiraling. To be sprawled out, exposed, her pristine skin contrasted starkly against the backdrop of a perfectly dressed man—moaning in pleasure at his touch—was almost too much to bear.
As his hands worked her breasts, her legs—spread wide—remained in contact with his body. His hardness pressed against her through his clothes, rubbing against her sensitive core, intensifying the sensations radiating from her chest.
Did I… soak through my pants?
The thought brought all her attention to the throbbing heat between her thighs. She felt an overwhelming rush as though something might spill over. Panicking, she grabbed onto Vicente’s arm and blurted out.
“Wait, I…”
“Go on, say it,” he urged, his tone calm and teasing.
“My… pants…”
“You should really learn how to finish your sentences,” Vicente replied smoothly.
As he spoke, his fingernails pressed into her nipple again, this time dragging downward in a tantalizing motion that left her gasping, her lips trembling as she bit down on them to stifle a moan.
“Try again,” he said, his voice firm but patient.
“This time, say it properly.”
“Please… let me take off my pants. And…,” she hesitated, her words catching in her throat.
“And?”
Vicente prompted, his tone pressing her for more.
Tessa hesitated, then reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. His broad chest leaned down against her, enveloping her in his distinct, heady scent.
This is better, she thought. It’s easier if I don’t have to look at his face.
“…Just do it already. Please.”
She whispered, her voice strained with desperation.
“You’ve become quite skilled at saying such vulgar things.”
He mocked, his dry tone laced with amusement as he spoke close to her ear.
Below, the sound of buttons being undone and a zipper sliding down filled the air. The black fabric of her pants slipped helplessly down her legs, leaving her more exposed with each second.
“Tessa, I have a question,” Vicente said suddenly.
The thin fabric of her underwear followed the same fate, leaving her bare beneath him. Her most private area was now completely exposed, positioned vulnerably between his legs.
“Have you ever… touched yourself while thinking about the Guide you might meet someday?”
“N-no, I haven’t―”
“For someone who claims that, you sure seem to feel things as though it’s not your first time,” he countered smoothly.
The sound of his zipper being undone cut through the tension, sharp and deliberate. Tessa gasped softly as something hot and raw pressed against her most sensitive area.
“Relax.”
Vicente whispered against her ear, his voice soothing yet commanding.
“Good girl. Just let go.”
* * *
A sleek black sedan cut through the streets of Saint-Leroy. Though it appeared to be an ordinary car by design, the atmosphere surrounding it was undeniably out of place—a subtle but distinct anomaly.
Alex Reed reached for the handle and rolled the window shut. Perhaps it was the city’s infamous reputation, but the air here seemed more stifling, more acrid than anywhere else. As a senior official of the Intelligence Bureau, closing the window was about the only thing Alex could do to shield himself from the city’s suffocating aura.
The state of the government mirrored this moment perfectly—feeble and compromised. They couldn’t even manage to summon Vicente Germaine out of his stronghold; instead, they had to come crawling to him. It was a shameful situation for an institution that considered itself the nation’s central power.
“We’ve arrived,” the driver announced.
Alex stepped out the moment his aide opened the door for him. His gaze traveled upward, taking in the towering stone building ahead. Somewhere inside was Vicente’s office, their rendezvous point for today.
He clicked his tongue in frustration.
“That bastard gets to lounge comfortably in his chair, while I have to drag myself all the way out here in this mess of a country.”
The meeting time was fast approaching.
Without hesitation, Alex walked into the building.
TL/N: MY GUY IS ACTING LIKE AN ITALIAN MAFIA!!!
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