Night 4 part 3
Victoria lay over him, her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms loosely holding him. Sands looked down at the top of her head, the curves of her profile, and wondered what he had done to deserve this woman. There was a nagging voice in his head telling him if she knew all about him, about his bouts of insanity, his ability to totally turn himself off from feeling and kill, Victoria would leave him. At a run. He didn't want her to leave him.
Few, it seemed as he looked back, ever did stay long. There was Lilith, of course, and his friend Andre. There were very few others, though: Jared, Michelle, Edith, Wiedholt and Spencer all came to mind. They were the few who truly knew him and still remained his friends. Most of those he grew close to either abandoned him, or died. The two world wars had taken a terrible toll on his small band of friends. He had freely followed Abberline's orders to fight the Nazis, never dreaming how much they knew about vampires. He would not underestimate his human enemies ever again.
A buzz from the intercom system caused Victoria to stir. "Pizza," he told her.
"I'll get the buzz, you get the door," she told him, rising up on her elbows and eyeing him. "Deal?"
"Yep." She rose, picked up her clothes, and walked toward the intercom. She pushed the speak button. "Yes," she said into the speaker.
"Pizza delivery." It was Al's voice.
"Thank you, Al. Please send him up."
She walked toward the bathroom. "Let me know when our snack is ready," she said to Sands as she passed him.
He rose more slowly, pulled on the disgustingly ugly trousers he'd stolen form the dead vampire that morning, and pulled the cord that served as a belt tight, knotting it at the waist. The misbehaving trousers rode back down to the ridge of his hips as he headed toward the door, running both hands through his long dark hair and pushing it back and out of his face.
He opened the door before the elevator outside announced the arrival of the delivery man. For one moment, Sands wondered if it really was the pizza delivery man, or had the elevator been hijacked by more of Viscalli's followers. Plans spun in Sands' imaginative brain, how he would slam the door, turn the lock, retreat out onto the balcony as he called to Victoria.
The elevator doors opened and a young man, perhaps even still in his teens, stepped out holding the red and white box from Amico's Pizzaria.
"Hey, here," Sands called, gesturing into the apartment. "I'm glad you're coming out in this weather. I'd have starved to death tonight without you." As the young man passed inside, Sands pointed toward the darkened kitchen. "In there. I keep the cash in there."
Sands followed the man, who trailed the aroma of tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni, into the kitchen, tapping on the light switch, which flooded the austere modern room with lights. "On the table," Sands told the Amico man. "What do I owe you?"
"Twenty-two-fifty," the young man spoke, revealing a local accent. He wore a thick sky jacket, trucker's cap, jeans, boots and a muffler.
"Okay. You get a big tip for this," Sands told him. He went to the cookie jar and pulled out some bills. "Tell me, my girlfriend and I are having an argument. Do you think my right eye is darker than my left?"
Sands walked right up to the delivery man, the money in one hand, pointing to his eyes with the other.
Blinking, the young man looked from one eye to the other. That was all it took. Sands stared into his eyes, willing him to stand still. He did.
"You will enjoy this," Sands told the young man, reaching to unwrap the muffler. "You won't remember it, but you'll remember that you got a big tip here and you'll want to be the one who delivers the next pizza here. Right?"
"Right," came the automatic reply.
"Oh, our delivery man," Victoria said, coming up behind him. She moved around to look at him more closely. "He's young. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
"In college?"
"Yes."
"Don't talk to your food," Sands told her with a quick smile. He turned his attention to the man. "Close your eyes."
The man obeyed. Sands moved closer and bit into the man's neck.
"Just like in the movies," Victoria laughed.
Sands did not drink much. He raised his head after only a minute and looked at Victoria. "Your turn."
"Thank you."
She moved to take Sands' place, following his lead and taking only a little blood from the young man's neck. She then licked the site and smiled at Sands. "I'll meet you in the shower." She brushed her lips against his as she passed by him and left the kitchen.
Sands watched her leave the room, then turned back to the delivery man. He picked up the young man's empty hand and put the money in it. "Here's a few hundred bucks. Have a good night."
He turned the man around and aimed him back toward the front entry. "Thanks again for coming out in the cold. Are you okay?"
"Uh-huh," the man nodded. "Thanks for the tip." He walked slowly, like a man waking from a dream.
Sands opened the door, watched the man get into the elevator, then closed and locked his door. He felt a lot better. It didn't take much for him to be energized. The older he got, the less he actually needed.
His mind leapt to the shower. With a grin, he padded toward the master bathroom, anticipating a memorable shower. He worked at the knotted rope that served as a belt for his trousers as he walked toward the sound of streaming water. He imagined Victoria standing under the pouring water. His grin grew wider. He let the trousers fall to the ground, stepped out of them, and kicked them out of the way, before passing into the darkened bedroom.
Steam was coming from the open bathroom door and golden light streamed softly from the room. Victoria must have lit candles.
"Lucy, I'm home," he said in a soft whisper, walking into the bathroom.
He was right. The bathroom was alight with many small flickering lights and steam from the shower poured into the room. He could just make out the faint silhouette of Victoria behind the frosted glass. She was letting the water pour over her slightly bowed head.
"Well are you just going to stand there?" her voice echoed around him.
He didn't need a second invitation. Pulling at the rope belt on his trousers, he yanked the knot free, pushed the baggy clothes down, and stepped out of them. He walked into the open shower and tilted his head sideways as he bent down so that he was looking up into Victoria's face.
"Hi, dimples," he said batting his eyelashes. "I remember something about getting my back scrubbed."
She dutifully showed him her lovely dimples as she smiled. "Let me shampoo my hair, then I'll be your humble servant." She raised her brows suggestively.
"Oh, I don't need humble or servant," he told her, stepping to the side to allow her access to the shampoo bottle. "Just a back scrubber person. Just you."
She reached past him with both hands and pumped some shampoo into her open palm. He watched her as she lathered it into her hair. His gaze was drawn to the way the suds of the shampoo flowed down her body, over her shoulders, down her back. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but that wasn't the game they were playing tonight. He could only watch and notice how his body responded to hers.
The flickering light of the dozen candles painted her skin a golden ivory. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her wet and covered in shampoo. She turned around, letting her head fall back as she rinsed off the shampoo. Their eyes met, and he could only wonder if she was feeling any of what he felt. There was a smoldering fire burning deep within him. It tingled along his thighs, up his belly, and caused a twitching sensation in his manhood. Down, boy, he told himself. Slow and easy. Slow and easy.
He was conscious of the aching pain where the silver had bitten into him. This little game they played had a little truth in it. It would hurt him if he tried to raise his arms above his head to shampoo his own hair. Hopefully, she would do that for him. She seemed to know what he was feeling.
His thoughts darted to what she had said about reading minds. He would have to ask her about that later. Much later. Tonight was for fantasies coming to life.
She turned around again to apply crème rinse to her hair, then let the warm water rinse that out, too. She moved with a dancer's grace, her long slender limbs at once strong and beautiful.
"Now," she said, picking up the bottle of soap and a loofa, "it's your turn, Mr. Sands."
"That's what I've been waiting to hear." He stepped forward under the streaming water and let his forehead lean against the cool tiles of the shower stall. The water poured over his head, his shoulders, and flowed in little rivulets over his back.
She used the loofa in one hand, her free hand simply touching him, as she lightly scrubbed his back. Taking her time running the loofa down his arms and legs, Victoria then gently turned him around and cleaned the front of his body. If she noticed his growing state of arousal, she didn't let it interfere with her ministrations.
He closed his eyes as the warm water and her touches soothed him. Then he felt the shampoo and her fingers on his scalp and he sighed.
"If you like this, she said in a soft warm voice, "you'll love the massage."
"Oh yes," he purred back. "Bring it on."
"All in good time." She continued to work the lather on his scalp. "We've got all night."
Victoria's hands worked slowly. She must have sensed how much he was relishing her touch. "Time to rinse off," she said quietly, letting her words rise and evaporate with the steam. Victoria tilted his head towards the stream of water and ran her hands up and under his hair. Sands' eyes followed the trail of suds as they escaped down the drain.
After he was rinsed clean, she reached past him and turned the shower off. "Time to dry you and then... the massage." Her voice held promise.
Like a blind man, he let her guide him out of the shower. It brought back memories of those months of blindness, sending his thoughts momentarily into dark circles.
Her light touch and the soft terrycloth towel brought him back to the present. He hadn't been bathed by anyone since some time in the mid- nineteenth century when he'd visited a very exclusive brothel in Venice.
"Come now, lay down." She coaxed him with her hands over to the bed, where he gratefully lay down.
After a few moments of rummaging through the cabinets in the bathroom, she returned and set up a small aroma therapy bowl, pouring in the massage oil. It was scented with almond, one of his favorite scents. How did she know?
Silently he watched her dip her fingers into the warm oil and then rub her hands together. As her soft palms began making slow circles on his upper back, he asked her. "Tell me about it."
"Tell you about what?" she asked, as she began to apply the slightest bit of pressure to her motions.
"How you read minds."
"I just open my mind." He felt a bit of hesitation in her hands. "It's like walking through a maze really." She paused as she reached for more oil, rubbing her hands together before resuming her ministrations, this time on his lower back. "You think about where you want to go, and follow the trail. But sometimes," her words stopped.
"Sometimes what?" He could sense her unease sharing this with him.
"Sometimes," she continued slowly, as she worked her hands gently down his spine, "it can be painful, especially if the mind I am trying to invade is particularly strong."
"Painful? How can thoughts be painful?" His hips shifted as her hands moved over his still-tense muscles. "God, that feels good."
"I am glad you like it."
He thought he could hear her smile as she spoke.
Victoria stood and shifted her position. He saw her reach for some more of the scented oil and watched as she rubbed it between the palms of her hands. When she seem satisfied, Victoria sat down on the edge of the bed and began working away at the muscles in his legs.
"You have such strong legs," she complimented. "Well, it is sometimes difficult," she continued to explain, "to block out other thoughts, or to find what you are looking for. Strong minds are difficult and require more coaxing. Simple minds like Jacob McLeod are easy, the thoughts are just floating around waiting for some one to pick them up." She sighed as she leaned forward, massaging his calf muscles.
"I was an avid rider," he told her. "Horses and the ladies." He couldn't help but smile. "I ran with a rather unrepentant crowd in my days as a human."
She playfully slapped his rear in response to his teasing and then continued to speak: "Now Viscalli, he was the most difficult mind I ever breeched. I went a little to far with him. He knows me now." Sands noticed a change in the tone of her words as she motioned Viscalli.
"Then we're even, because he knows me," Sands told her. "At least, he thinks he does. I think he can read minds, too. Something that happened when I was there." His thoughts skipped back to the hours he was held captive on that infernal table, and he nibbled at his bottom lip in thought.
"I know he can, he's trying to read mine."
"Now?" He started to rise, putting his weight on his forearms, but the pain of his recent injuries caused him to intake breath in a hiss and lay back down.
"Easy!" Victoria urged. She turned and put her lips next to his ear, her oily palms resting on his shoulders. "No not now. He's quiet now, but all through the house and when we were in the forest too."
"That house?" Sands asked, relaxing a little. "Where was that, anyway? Hungary? Romania?"
"Hungary." She began to rub the back of his neck her finger gentle, yet strong, dancing along his spine.
"I haven't been their much. So you lived there with Mr. Jerk?" He kept his tone light, hoping she'd tell him about her time there.
"Yes," she paused skeptically. "He kept me there." The tone of her voice was laced with ice. "Are you sure you want to hear about that stuff?' she asked.
He sighed. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that sort of treatment. But, I don't understand. If you could read minds, couldn't you tell he was a total scumbag before you got too close to him?" He turned his head to try and see her expression.
Her eyes were closed and, when they opened again, filled with sadness. "I didn't discover my abilities until after I was turned, and they didn't mature until after I had tired to kill him."
Settling back on the bed, Sands thought about that. "We do seem to get different gifts once we're turned. Some of them can be passed from our sires, but not all. I think they have to intend to share them."
"Jacob never shared anything," she said flatly. "Can I work on your wounds?"
"What do you mean, 'work on my wounds?'" That didn't sound good.
She laughed. "Can I rub them? Or will it hurt to much?"
"Please, don't touch them." Did she think it would feel good? "I thought Jacob used silver on you before."
"He did, but once he'd beaten me he wouldn't want to see me again until I was fully healed. I guess he didn't like to be reminded of his dirty work." Victoria careful worked her way around the blackened marks. "Roll over when your ready for more."
"But didn't it hurt you? I mean," he searched for words, "wouldn't it have been painful for someone to touch them?"
"I was in a lot of pain, sometimes I wanted to die."
"Then why did you think I would want my wounds touched? I don't follow you, darlin'"
"I don't know. I just want you to feel better. I wasn't thinking to clearly I guess."
A slow smile pulled at his lips. "It's because you're dazzled by the sheer vision of my naked body," he teased.
Victoria's rubbing grew a little stronger. "Having a handsome man between my thighs, that might do it."
"Oh, should I turn over now? If I remember correctly, you promised to cover me and I would like to explore all possible ways of doing that." He turned beneath her, reaching to touch her forearms, his eyes going to her glittering green eyes. "Are you ready to cover me?"
"Anytime Mr. Sands," she purred in response.
She lowered her face to his, brushing his lips with hers. He opened his mouth in anticipation. "I'm hungry for you," he said in a husky voice.
"Are you now? " she teased his mouth with her lips. "What do you need?" she asked seductively.
He wiggled his hips. "What is my body telling you, southern belle?"
Her eyes dropped to his hips where the swelling between his thighs was pressing against her. She smiled and covered his mouth with her own and then lowered herself down over him as his hips raised to meet her. She moaned with pleasure at the joining.
A low throaty grown escaped his mouth. "That's what I mean," he told her. "You can cover me anytime, sugarbutt."
She rotated her hips in response slowly rising and falling over him. He felt his thoughts dissolve as pure instinct took over. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was in shadow now, only the faint light from the candles in the bathroom behind her and to the right allowing a little gold to outline her dark form. Yet her eyes sparkled and he could see the white of her teeth as she opened her mouth above him.
Victoria's eyes locked with his own. Her breathing grew faster as her motions grew quicker. She seemed to lower herself more each time as if she were trying to take more and more of him with each push.
The heat flooded through him like a sudden fever. He slowly opened and closed his eyes, the sensations building in him, taking his attention away from his ears, his eyes. He could only feel her and smell her, and those two sensations seem to build upon one another until there was only her.
"I need you," Victoria moaned her head thrown back as she continued to ride him.
He didn't know how much more he could give her, but her words made him smile. Maybe his shoulders weren't working too well, but his hips were just fine, and he lifted them to meet her downward thrusts, his breaths growing ragged as he rose closer towards the pinnacles of bliss. She began to moan, softly at first, but increasingly louder with each motion. Her fingers went to the sheets and she tore at them. He could see what his thrusting was doing to her.
Then her body was everything. There was nothing in the universe except the two of them and the shooting feeling of rising, rising rising ever higher. It took him, arching his back, causing him to release a hoarse groan as he held onto her thighs and surged into her, shuddering in pleasure.
She threw back her head and gave one last powerful thrust into him, with her own body. Her hands covered his hands and she called out his name in ecstasy.
Lifting his upper body, he reached almost blindly for her mouth, capturing her lips in a deep long kiss, even as his body continued to tremble beneath hers.
Hungrily she devoured his mouth, her thighs trembling with pleasure. He could feel her shudder and knew she was satisfied. Her hands went to his face as she began to lower herself.
"I knew you could cover me," he whispered to her, a smile spreading across his face as he looked into her heavily lidded eyes.
"You nut." She kissed the tip of his nose. "I'll cover you any day."
"I may hold you to that." He kissed her again, his hands still on her thighs, running lightly up and down to her calves.
She laughed lightly. "I hope you do."
Victoria lay over him, her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms loosely holding him. Sands looked down at the top of her head, the curves of her profile, and wondered what he had done to deserve this woman. There was a nagging voice in his head telling him if she knew all about him, about his bouts of insanity, his ability to totally turn himself off from feeling and kill, Victoria would leave him. At a run. He didn't want her to leave him.
Few, it seemed as he looked back, ever did stay long. There was Lilith, of course, and his friend Andre. There were very few others, though: Jared, Michelle, Edith, Wiedholt and Spencer all came to mind. They were the few who truly knew him and still remained his friends. Most of those he grew close to either abandoned him, or died. The two world wars had taken a terrible toll on his small band of friends. He had freely followed Abberline's orders to fight the Nazis, never dreaming how much they knew about vampires. He would not underestimate his human enemies ever again.
A buzz from the intercom system caused Victoria to stir. "Pizza," he told her.
"I'll get the buzz, you get the door," she told him, rising up on her elbows and eyeing him. "Deal?"
"Yep." She rose, picked up her clothes, and walked toward the intercom. She pushed the speak button. "Yes," she said into the speaker.
"Pizza delivery." It was Al's voice.
"Thank you, Al. Please send him up."
She walked toward the bathroom. "Let me know when our snack is ready," she said to Sands as she passed him.
He rose more slowly, pulled on the disgustingly ugly trousers he'd stolen form the dead vampire that morning, and pulled the cord that served as a belt tight, knotting it at the waist. The misbehaving trousers rode back down to the ridge of his hips as he headed toward the door, running both hands through his long dark hair and pushing it back and out of his face.
He opened the door before the elevator outside announced the arrival of the delivery man. For one moment, Sands wondered if it really was the pizza delivery man, or had the elevator been hijacked by more of Viscalli's followers. Plans spun in Sands' imaginative brain, how he would slam the door, turn the lock, retreat out onto the balcony as he called to Victoria.
The elevator doors opened and a young man, perhaps even still in his teens, stepped out holding the red and white box from Amico's Pizzaria.
"Hey, here," Sands called, gesturing into the apartment. "I'm glad you're coming out in this weather. I'd have starved to death tonight without you." As the young man passed inside, Sands pointed toward the darkened kitchen. "In there. I keep the cash in there."
Sands followed the man, who trailed the aroma of tomato sauce, cheese and pepperoni, into the kitchen, tapping on the light switch, which flooded the austere modern room with lights. "On the table," Sands told the Amico man. "What do I owe you?"
"Twenty-two-fifty," the young man spoke, revealing a local accent. He wore a thick sky jacket, trucker's cap, jeans, boots and a muffler.
"Okay. You get a big tip for this," Sands told him. He went to the cookie jar and pulled out some bills. "Tell me, my girlfriend and I are having an argument. Do you think my right eye is darker than my left?"
Sands walked right up to the delivery man, the money in one hand, pointing to his eyes with the other.
Blinking, the young man looked from one eye to the other. That was all it took. Sands stared into his eyes, willing him to stand still. He did.
"You will enjoy this," Sands told the young man, reaching to unwrap the muffler. "You won't remember it, but you'll remember that you got a big tip here and you'll want to be the one who delivers the next pizza here. Right?"
"Right," came the automatic reply.
"Oh, our delivery man," Victoria said, coming up behind him. She moved around to look at him more closely. "He's young. How old are you?"
"Twenty-two."
"In college?"
"Yes."
"Don't talk to your food," Sands told her with a quick smile. He turned his attention to the man. "Close your eyes."
The man obeyed. Sands moved closer and bit into the man's neck.
"Just like in the movies," Victoria laughed.
Sands did not drink much. He raised his head after only a minute and looked at Victoria. "Your turn."
"Thank you."
She moved to take Sands' place, following his lead and taking only a little blood from the young man's neck. She then licked the site and smiled at Sands. "I'll meet you in the shower." She brushed her lips against his as she passed by him and left the kitchen.
Sands watched her leave the room, then turned back to the delivery man. He picked up the young man's empty hand and put the money in it. "Here's a few hundred bucks. Have a good night."
He turned the man around and aimed him back toward the front entry. "Thanks again for coming out in the cold. Are you okay?"
"Uh-huh," the man nodded. "Thanks for the tip." He walked slowly, like a man waking from a dream.
Sands opened the door, watched the man get into the elevator, then closed and locked his door. He felt a lot better. It didn't take much for him to be energized. The older he got, the less he actually needed.
His mind leapt to the shower. With a grin, he padded toward the master bathroom, anticipating a memorable shower. He worked at the knotted rope that served as a belt for his trousers as he walked toward the sound of streaming water. He imagined Victoria standing under the pouring water. His grin grew wider. He let the trousers fall to the ground, stepped out of them, and kicked them out of the way, before passing into the darkened bedroom.
Steam was coming from the open bathroom door and golden light streamed softly from the room. Victoria must have lit candles.
"Lucy, I'm home," he said in a soft whisper, walking into the bathroom.
He was right. The bathroom was alight with many small flickering lights and steam from the shower poured into the room. He could just make out the faint silhouette of Victoria behind the frosted glass. She was letting the water pour over her slightly bowed head.
"Well are you just going to stand there?" her voice echoed around him.
He didn't need a second invitation. Pulling at the rope belt on his trousers, he yanked the knot free, pushed the baggy clothes down, and stepped out of them. He walked into the open shower and tilted his head sideways as he bent down so that he was looking up into Victoria's face.
"Hi, dimples," he said batting his eyelashes. "I remember something about getting my back scrubbed."
She dutifully showed him her lovely dimples as she smiled. "Let me shampoo my hair, then I'll be your humble servant." She raised her brows suggestively.
"Oh, I don't need humble or servant," he told her, stepping to the side to allow her access to the shampoo bottle. "Just a back scrubber person. Just you."
She reached past him with both hands and pumped some shampoo into her open palm. He watched her as she lathered it into her hair. His gaze was drawn to the way the suds of the shampoo flowed down her body, over her shoulders, down her back. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but that wasn't the game they were playing tonight. He could only watch and notice how his body responded to hers.
The flickering light of the dozen candles painted her skin a golden ivory. He took in a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her wet and covered in shampoo. She turned around, letting her head fall back as she rinsed off the shampoo. Their eyes met, and he could only wonder if she was feeling any of what he felt. There was a smoldering fire burning deep within him. It tingled along his thighs, up his belly, and caused a twitching sensation in his manhood. Down, boy, he told himself. Slow and easy. Slow and easy.
He was conscious of the aching pain where the silver had bitten into him. This little game they played had a little truth in it. It would hurt him if he tried to raise his arms above his head to shampoo his own hair. Hopefully, she would do that for him. She seemed to know what he was feeling.
His thoughts darted to what she had said about reading minds. He would have to ask her about that later. Much later. Tonight was for fantasies coming to life.
She turned around again to apply crème rinse to her hair, then let the warm water rinse that out, too. She moved with a dancer's grace, her long slender limbs at once strong and beautiful.
"Now," she said, picking up the bottle of soap and a loofa, "it's your turn, Mr. Sands."
"That's what I've been waiting to hear." He stepped forward under the streaming water and let his forehead lean against the cool tiles of the shower stall. The water poured over his head, his shoulders, and flowed in little rivulets over his back.
She used the loofa in one hand, her free hand simply touching him, as she lightly scrubbed his back. Taking her time running the loofa down his arms and legs, Victoria then gently turned him around and cleaned the front of his body. If she noticed his growing state of arousal, she didn't let it interfere with her ministrations.
He closed his eyes as the warm water and her touches soothed him. Then he felt the shampoo and her fingers on his scalp and he sighed.
"If you like this, she said in a soft warm voice, "you'll love the massage."
"Oh yes," he purred back. "Bring it on."
"All in good time." She continued to work the lather on his scalp. "We've got all night."
Victoria's hands worked slowly. She must have sensed how much he was relishing her touch. "Time to rinse off," she said quietly, letting her words rise and evaporate with the steam. Victoria tilted his head towards the stream of water and ran her hands up and under his hair. Sands' eyes followed the trail of suds as they escaped down the drain.
After he was rinsed clean, she reached past him and turned the shower off. "Time to dry you and then... the massage." Her voice held promise.
Like a blind man, he let her guide him out of the shower. It brought back memories of those months of blindness, sending his thoughts momentarily into dark circles.
Her light touch and the soft terrycloth towel brought him back to the present. He hadn't been bathed by anyone since some time in the mid- nineteenth century when he'd visited a very exclusive brothel in Venice.
"Come now, lay down." She coaxed him with her hands over to the bed, where he gratefully lay down.
After a few moments of rummaging through the cabinets in the bathroom, she returned and set up a small aroma therapy bowl, pouring in the massage oil. It was scented with almond, one of his favorite scents. How did she know?
Silently he watched her dip her fingers into the warm oil and then rub her hands together. As her soft palms began making slow circles on his upper back, he asked her. "Tell me about it."
"Tell you about what?" she asked, as she began to apply the slightest bit of pressure to her motions.
"How you read minds."
"I just open my mind." He felt a bit of hesitation in her hands. "It's like walking through a maze really." She paused as she reached for more oil, rubbing her hands together before resuming her ministrations, this time on his lower back. "You think about where you want to go, and follow the trail. But sometimes," her words stopped.
"Sometimes what?" He could sense her unease sharing this with him.
"Sometimes," she continued slowly, as she worked her hands gently down his spine, "it can be painful, especially if the mind I am trying to invade is particularly strong."
"Painful? How can thoughts be painful?" His hips shifted as her hands moved over his still-tense muscles. "God, that feels good."
"I am glad you like it."
He thought he could hear her smile as she spoke.
Victoria stood and shifted her position. He saw her reach for some more of the scented oil and watched as she rubbed it between the palms of her hands. When she seem satisfied, Victoria sat down on the edge of the bed and began working away at the muscles in his legs.
"You have such strong legs," she complimented. "Well, it is sometimes difficult," she continued to explain, "to block out other thoughts, or to find what you are looking for. Strong minds are difficult and require more coaxing. Simple minds like Jacob McLeod are easy, the thoughts are just floating around waiting for some one to pick them up." She sighed as she leaned forward, massaging his calf muscles.
"I was an avid rider," he told her. "Horses and the ladies." He couldn't help but smile. "I ran with a rather unrepentant crowd in my days as a human."
She playfully slapped his rear in response to his teasing and then continued to speak: "Now Viscalli, he was the most difficult mind I ever breeched. I went a little to far with him. He knows me now." Sands noticed a change in the tone of her words as she motioned Viscalli.
"Then we're even, because he knows me," Sands told her. "At least, he thinks he does. I think he can read minds, too. Something that happened when I was there." His thoughts skipped back to the hours he was held captive on that infernal table, and he nibbled at his bottom lip in thought.
"I know he can, he's trying to read mine."
"Now?" He started to rise, putting his weight on his forearms, but the pain of his recent injuries caused him to intake breath in a hiss and lay back down.
"Easy!" Victoria urged. She turned and put her lips next to his ear, her oily palms resting on his shoulders. "No not now. He's quiet now, but all through the house and when we were in the forest too."
"That house?" Sands asked, relaxing a little. "Where was that, anyway? Hungary? Romania?"
"Hungary." She began to rub the back of his neck her finger gentle, yet strong, dancing along his spine.
"I haven't been their much. So you lived there with Mr. Jerk?" He kept his tone light, hoping she'd tell him about her time there.
"Yes," she paused skeptically. "He kept me there." The tone of her voice was laced with ice. "Are you sure you want to hear about that stuff?' she asked.
He sighed. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that sort of treatment. But, I don't understand. If you could read minds, couldn't you tell he was a total scumbag before you got too close to him?" He turned his head to try and see her expression.
Her eyes were closed and, when they opened again, filled with sadness. "I didn't discover my abilities until after I was turned, and they didn't mature until after I had tired to kill him."
Settling back on the bed, Sands thought about that. "We do seem to get different gifts once we're turned. Some of them can be passed from our sires, but not all. I think they have to intend to share them."
"Jacob never shared anything," she said flatly. "Can I work on your wounds?"
"What do you mean, 'work on my wounds?'" That didn't sound good.
She laughed. "Can I rub them? Or will it hurt to much?"
"Please, don't touch them." Did she think it would feel good? "I thought Jacob used silver on you before."
"He did, but once he'd beaten me he wouldn't want to see me again until I was fully healed. I guess he didn't like to be reminded of his dirty work." Victoria careful worked her way around the blackened marks. "Roll over when your ready for more."
"But didn't it hurt you? I mean," he searched for words, "wouldn't it have been painful for someone to touch them?"
"I was in a lot of pain, sometimes I wanted to die."
"Then why did you think I would want my wounds touched? I don't follow you, darlin'"
"I don't know. I just want you to feel better. I wasn't thinking to clearly I guess."
A slow smile pulled at his lips. "It's because you're dazzled by the sheer vision of my naked body," he teased.
Victoria's rubbing grew a little stronger. "Having a handsome man between my thighs, that might do it."
"Oh, should I turn over now? If I remember correctly, you promised to cover me and I would like to explore all possible ways of doing that." He turned beneath her, reaching to touch her forearms, his eyes going to her glittering green eyes. "Are you ready to cover me?"
"Anytime Mr. Sands," she purred in response.
She lowered her face to his, brushing his lips with hers. He opened his mouth in anticipation. "I'm hungry for you," he said in a husky voice.
"Are you now? " she teased his mouth with her lips. "What do you need?" she asked seductively.
He wiggled his hips. "What is my body telling you, southern belle?"
Her eyes dropped to his hips where the swelling between his thighs was pressing against her. She smiled and covered his mouth with her own and then lowered herself down over him as his hips raised to meet her. She moaned with pleasure at the joining.
A low throaty grown escaped his mouth. "That's what I mean," he told her. "You can cover me anytime, sugarbutt."
She rotated her hips in response slowly rising and falling over him. He felt his thoughts dissolve as pure instinct took over. He couldn't take his eyes off her. She was in shadow now, only the faint light from the candles in the bathroom behind her and to the right allowing a little gold to outline her dark form. Yet her eyes sparkled and he could see the white of her teeth as she opened her mouth above him.
Victoria's eyes locked with his own. Her breathing grew faster as her motions grew quicker. She seemed to lower herself more each time as if she were trying to take more and more of him with each push.
The heat flooded through him like a sudden fever. He slowly opened and closed his eyes, the sensations building in him, taking his attention away from his ears, his eyes. He could only feel her and smell her, and those two sensations seem to build upon one another until there was only her.
"I need you," Victoria moaned her head thrown back as she continued to ride him.
He didn't know how much more he could give her, but her words made him smile. Maybe his shoulders weren't working too well, but his hips were just fine, and he lifted them to meet her downward thrusts, his breaths growing ragged as he rose closer towards the pinnacles of bliss. She began to moan, softly at first, but increasingly louder with each motion. Her fingers went to the sheets and she tore at them. He could see what his thrusting was doing to her.
Then her body was everything. There was nothing in the universe except the two of them and the shooting feeling of rising, rising rising ever higher. It took him, arching his back, causing him to release a hoarse groan as he held onto her thighs and surged into her, shuddering in pleasure.
She threw back her head and gave one last powerful thrust into him, with her own body. Her hands covered his hands and she called out his name in ecstasy.
Lifting his upper body, he reached almost blindly for her mouth, capturing her lips in a deep long kiss, even as his body continued to tremble beneath hers.
Hungrily she devoured his mouth, her thighs trembling with pleasure. He could feel her shudder and knew she was satisfied. Her hands went to his face as she began to lower herself.
"I knew you could cover me," he whispered to her, a smile spreading across his face as he looked into her heavily lidded eyes.
"You nut." She kissed the tip of his nose. "I'll cover you any day."
"I may hold you to that." He kissed her again, his hands still on her thighs, running lightly up and down to her calves.
She laughed lightly. "I hope you do."