Annika's Islands Ch. 01

Pale goosebumps erupted on her as I touched her skin, and a shiver ran through her. Knowing my touch aroused her was almost too much for me to handle. Not that I was at all repulsed... it was just so incredibly stimulating it tested my carefully maintained willpower. Locking eyes with her was already test enough.

She burned with need. Her irises were dilated, nostrils flared. She reminded me very much of a lioness about to attack her prey, fighting the urge to strike until just the right moment...

My finger guided her chin, and I kissed her again. I inhaled her scent, loving the rich, flowery lavender hinted perfume. The inhalation seemed to chase away any alcoholic intoxication I might still have had. I was only intoxicated with her; her lips as soft as a feather. Her tongue, delicious, full bodied, firm and textured. She was an excellent kisser, knowing instinctually what I liked... when to move, when to give in and when to resist. I drew her tongue into my mouth slightly; soft sucking sounds escaping as I skillfully used my mouth.

My hands found her breasts, sliding the silken material of her dress over the hard little buds I found there. She moaned into my mouth, and the sound reverberated down my spine, the electricity of it settling between my legs, hardening me. I was unaware a sound could cause such pleasure.

I broke contact with her lips, moving to her ear so I could lick, suck, and gently nibble the fleshy bit. A million things to say suddenly sprang into my mind, temporarily disabling my voice. Her skin tasted so good... Silky, salty, with an undertone of vanilla that I could only assume was a moisturizer or something she used. Honestly, no one could taste this good naturally.

"I cannot wait to taste every inch of you..." I whispered, before I'd realized I'd said it.

"Oh..." She moaned, swaying on her feet as if her knees had given out on her. She still clung to me, her hands wrapped around my chest. She was trembling.

I decided the thick rug beneath us was probably a better location anyways, helping her to the floor. I took a moment to admire the view... she lay beneath me; a vision of Aphrodite. The fire's light played off her skin, making her literally glow with some otherworldly light. Coupled with the glittering, luminescent eyes, she looked just like an...

"Angel," I sighed.

Her soft lips parted as I said it, and she licked them slowly. Her hands slid to my waist, tugging me down until I was covering her body. Her legs spread, her dress riding higher and higher. I'd no doubt she could feel my prominent bulge pressed against her, just as I could feel the heat rising from her core. She was absolutely ready for this, there was no doubt or confusion in her eyes; only yearning, only need.

Her hands slid under my shirt, and I helped her pull it off. There was a slight thud as the forgotten phone I'd had in my shirt pocket hit the lush hearth rug, but I didn't even really notice it. Her hands were sliding slowly down my chest, over my hard stomach, and down to my belt.

I trapped her hands, not in protest, but in wanting to prolong this moment as long as possible. Besides, it was my turn.

My hands found the outside of her soft, bare thighs. Her eyes never deviated from mine as I slowly slid my hands up along her flesh, moving her skirt further up her body. When I felt hips, I lightly pressed against her, my jeans ever so gently chafing against her exposed wetness. She gasped, and it was as if a bolt of lightning had struck her body.

Smiling now, I leaned down to kiss the hollow of her throat. Leaving a wet imprint of my lips, I journeyed further... nuzzling my cheek against her breasts. Just to drive her crazy, I simultaneously ran my fingertips along the inside of her thighs, never quite going high enough.

She was moaning openly, but after a few moments it was turning more into grunts of frustration. I would graze my lips against her covered breasts, but not lick the hard, pointed tips that jutted out so predominately. I would trail all the way up to her hips with my fingers, but bypass her center completely. This, I could do for hours. I loved anticipation; I loved savoring every little moment. Every sensation was almost a spiritual event.

"Please..." She whimpered, lifting her hips to press against me. Her tone was raw, aching, yet still sweet. I knew exactly what she was asking. She knew exactly what she was asking. And I didn't care if it took three days straight to accomplish it; I was going to fulfill her desires. In every way imaginable. Right here. Right now.

My phone rang. Yes, something as simple as that. One would think that nothing, absolutely nothing in the world could have torn me from Annika... from my Annika. The most I'd intended on doing was reaching over, turning it off, and tossing it across the room.

However.

In my time between college and writing programs, I worked for a company -- Transglobal Tech Inc. Many of the employees had recently been given the latest and greatest smart phones to field test. They were given to the employees, the employee's families, wives, lovers, friends. They were video and audio phones, with a 5.8 megapixel camera capable of facing both inward and outward, so one could look at the person you were talking too.

I'd naturally had the camera facing inward. The face of the phone, a high-tech touch-screen, was facing my direction, propped up on its side thanks to the thick, comfortable rug. Much to my surprise, and horror, the phone was already on. The ringing was someone calling my secondary line. The little face staring in shock, dismay, and anger was holding a house phone to her ear. Apparently, the speakerphone function had been muted in lieu of my Bluetooth, which was tucked into my pants pocket.

I instantly knew that when the phone had dropped, it'd somehow dialed either my speed-dial or the last number that I'd called: Jackie, the love of my life. The girl I intended on marrying. The girl I'd spent the better part of two years with; who I lived with. The girl who was staring at me with furious, baby-blue eyes.

My... Ex-Girlfriend hung up.

Guilt suddenly filled my entire body. What had I been thinking? Not only was I cheating on Jackie, I was going to make love- No. I was about to fuck- no. No, even worse, I was going to molest, assault, and RAPE my drunk, 19 year old virgin sister.

What the FUCK is wrong with me? I quickly forgot about the consuming kiss; the one that had made sense of everything. And the burning need in Annika's eyes, the way she'd basically set the mood, picked the place, and initiated the whole situation... all was forgotten; repressed via guilt.

I ignored the fact she was an adult, could make decisions, and wanted me. Was right for me in a way Jackie never truly could be.

"'Nik, wait."

Annika frowned, apparently oblivious to what had just transpired. She did look worried, as if she'd feared something would happen.

I quickly pulled her skirt down, moving away from her. "We can't. We can't do this. You're my sister, and..." I began lamely, knowing full well that hadn't mattered to either of us in the slightest.

"This just occurred to you?" She smiled, slightly, though her eyes didn't change from that worried expression. "Or maybe you'd like to bring up that we've both been drinking?"

I nodded dumbly, "That too... and this just... isn't..."

"Darian... My sweet Dari... I've been planning this for so long. This isn't a spur of the moment decision here, or you taking advantage of me." She touched her hand to her heart, "I love you. We 'fit' you know? Like two perfect pieces. Don't tell me you didn't feel it? That you don't feel it now?" She wasn't begging, bargaining, or arguing. She was completely sure of herself, seemingly confident that I felt the same way. "I want this Darian. I want you."

Her lavender/vanilla scent still caught in my nose. My throat was tight, and my body was shaking. Every inch of me was screaming at me to not say it. Every bit of my heart and soul begged me to tell her I felt the same way, and then take her to bed. Instead... I just cleared my throat, and in a wavering, unsure voice managed to say, "Sometimes, we want what we shouldn't."

The plane jerked violently, literally lifting me up from my seat and slamming me back down, half landing on my startled sister.

"What the hell was that?" She yelled at me -- as if it'd been my doing. She had reclined her seat next to mine, and I realized we'd been sharing a blanket.

I jumped to my feet. What had she been trying to pull this time? "I... uh. I'm going to go see what's going on."

She frowned, faintly, her head shaking a fraction, "Fine."

I sighed as I walked away, adrenalin overriding any errant emotions her icy tone caused. I'll admit, I probably handled the last discussion we'd had (which had taken place two days previously in a nice Japanese hotel) badly. In fact, my goal of calmly explaining to her the "crush" she felt for me was natural due to our circumstances had completely failed to even come up.

For the first 13 years of my life, I'd not known I'd even had a sister. And suddenly my Mom dies and I have to move in with a bunch of strangers. Everything turned out great and all, I had a wonderful dad and stepmom, not to mention a wonderful sister. It's just, apparently the bonding part where you "don't see your sibling that way" never happened with her. Natural, I kept telling myself.

Not that I'd gotten around to explaining that to her, of course. Instead, I'd demeaned her, lost control of my frustration and lost control period. Not being in control was number one on my list of "Shit I Don't Like."

It seemed like she was the only one capable of making me lose control, too.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I walked away, my attention focused on the unusual noises coming from the new L8521p Corporate jet. It was just out of being a prototype, and Trans-Global Tech didn't waste a good opportunity to field test anything. Including both the plane, and my ability to multi-task. Part of my overseas assignment was to type up a review of how your typical corporate passenger would handle the ride.

The aircraft I was currently on was actually a part of a 3-plane formation. The rather genius designer had spent years of his life studying Anatidae -- Ducks, Geese, and Swans -- specifically how they fly and migrate, and why.

He created a prototype system of aviation that uses a system similar to the animals. Three or more planes fly in a V formation, each trading for the lead at some point during the flight. This, and his rather weird aerofoil technology allowed the "wing" planes to glide on the point plane's engine wake, lowering the amount of fuel consumed.

I'd actually spoken with the creator and expressed my disbelief -- much to my chagrin. He broke it down quite simply for me. "The center plane creates a gust of wind -- the wingmen simply glide on it." He then went on to explain the special modifications all the aircraft came equipped with to make this possible.

The only other problem was turbulence, as the system only worked at a much lower altitude than commercial airliners. This was offset marginally by advanced computers, GPS weather-mapping, and something called air shocks; though not completely negated.

I reached the front area of the plane, finally spotting one of the red-shirted attendants. "Hey, I was wonder-" I started.

"Back to your seat, Sir!" He yelled, actually making me flinch.

Immediately this set off a number of red flags in my mind, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, standard turbule-" The aircraft jolted abruptly, knocking me off my feet.

"This is the captain. Everyone please put on your emergency floatation devices located on the side of the aisle seats. We are going to make an emergency landing." The intercom clicked off with a squawk.

If we're going to land, why will we need floatation devices? I thought as I scrambled back to my feet, giving me just enough time to be thrown down the primary aisle and into the thin door separating the kitchenette area from the rest of the plane.

The flimsy door cracked under my two-hundred and ten pounds as if it hadn't even been there. I was propelled the full length of the seating area, past a dozen horrified passengers, colliding solidly with the back wall of the plane.

On impact, I heard a loud "POP!" from my shoulder, followed by a wave of pain along my whole left side. My body felt as if it weighed twice what I was used to, and even though I prided myself on my iron stomach, I felt decidedly queasy.

"Not good," I muttered through gritted teeth. Some deity must have heard me -- the plane leveled out as suddenly as it had thrown me across its interior.

I slid to the floor, still dazed and in agony, but apparently unable to catch too much of a break. No sooner than the plane leveled, the nose began to rise.

Thinking quickly, I threw myself into the nearest unlocked door -- The VIP room. I half-ran, half-slid to the lush couch bolted in at the far end of the room. Frantically I wedged myself between the overstuffed cushions, and used my good arm to fish out the safety straps I'd noticed during my first visit to the room.

Strapped in horizontally, I prayed to anyone that happened to be listening. "Please, please let Annika be alright."

Annika

I knew the look in my brother's eyes -- it was his mostly-gray "I'm hiding my feelings" look.

"I, uh, I'm going to go see what's going on," he said lamely, completely contradicting his earlier rebuke.

"Fine," I bit off icily, unwilling to pursue the issue. As he left, though, I opened my eyes and watched him enter the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

I knew I'd never get back to sleep without him, so I sighed and made my way to the lavatory. I found the room rather spacious when compared to a commercial airliner, but I'd stopped being surprised by such lavishness -- it was one hell of a plane. No sooner had I entered the room, the same "awesome" plane jerked violently under my sandals. Somehow I managed to keep my feet, mostly by grabbing the yellow, cushioned wall.

Before I could take two breathes, the plane -- which I suddenly renamed "The Plane from Hell" -- abruptly decided to start moving up and down in a nauseating, stomach flipping maneuver I later determined was to shed speed.

I'd taken two tablets of ginger concentrate -- a little tip my Grandma taught me -- to combat my genetic predisposition to motion sickness. Usually it worked as well as any brand-name drug.

I gulped hard, and I could feel myself go pale.

"This is the Captain. Everyone please put on your emergency flotation devices located on the side of the aisle seats. We are going to make an emergency landing."

"What?!" I yelled audibly, but soon had more important things on my mind.

I quickly realized why the walls of the lavatory were padded when I was thrown into one with little warning. I let out a loud "OOF!" as I was pinned, and I can only compare the sensation I felt to a carnival ride. The one that looks like a spaceship and you have your body pushed back into the wall by the force of the spinning.

It felt just like that, only terrifying because I realized I was on a fucking airplane.

When the plane leveled out, I didn't risk giving a sigh of relief. I went straight for the door, realized it was locked, and struggled to work the simple bolt lock open with trembling hands.

When the room gradually started to pitch at an angle, somewhere deep down in the back of my brain a memory triggered -- a plane having to lift its nose to land.

Realizing it might be quite the rough landing, I scrambled over to the left side of the toilette, bracing my legs against it and pressing my back up against the forward wall. I knew my best chance would be that cushioned wall behind me. When the impact came, my only thought was how I hoped Darian was strapped into his seat instead of looking for me.

The sound was almost worse than the crash. I thought the plane must have hit its tale against the water, because the rest of it slammed down hard in a giant belly-flop.

Somehow, I was airborne for an instant, and came slamming down into the carpet. I didn't know if I'd broken anything, or for that matter, if I was still alive.

"Darian!" I croaked. My throat was hoarse for some reason -- as if I'd been screaming. I received no response.

Groaning, I made my way to the door on my hands and knees. "Dare-ee-in!" Surely even the pilot could have heard that. Suddenly a trickled of water trailed into the lavatory, and I belatedly realized the emergency lights had kicked on.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I exclaimed, backing away from the water. Surely I was already under, and any second it would --

BOOM! The lavatory door across the hall! It must have imploded by the water pressure. Oh my GOD! I'm gunna die!

I braced y hands against the flimsy wood door, as if it would help hold the weight of the ocean at bay.

And then it exploded open, kicking me back to the floor. I felt frigid water soak my back.

"Annika!" My brother rushed over to help me up, awkwardly using only one hand. That didn't stop him from hugging me fiercely, and giving me a relieved, if brief, kiss.

"You're alive!" He grinned happily, as if we weren't seconds from death.

I tugged his collar demandingly, pressing my lips fully against his with fervent intent. I was rewarded when I felt his tongue slide wetly over mine for several precious seconds. "Don't leave me again," I managed quietly when we parted.

His eyes perfectly mirrored mine, "I promise."

His words held meaning to me, promise. I was suddenly filled with the resolve to discover exactly what his eyes hinted at.

"Let's go before this plane sinks," I told him, frowning at his arm. "Broken?"

He glanced down at his shoulder, and shook his head, "Dislocated. I tried popping it back in myself and almost blacked out. I need your help." He gave me his left hand with a wince, "Pull as hard as you can, on three."

"Wait a-"

"One."

"No, I can't do-"

"Two."

"Dari-"

"Three!"

Despite myself, I pulled his hand hard. A sickening "POP" followed, and was soon drowned out by my brother's howl.

"FUCKINGSHITCOCKCUNT MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE SHIT!" The words spewed from his mouth as he gripped his arm. "Fuck me up the fucking DICK! That hurt!"

I just stared at him a little dumbstruck. He never, ever swore in front of me. I was the one always being admonished for my language.

"Did it work?" I inquired politely.

He held up his hand and wiggled all of his fingers. "Yes, thanks. Sorry."

I waved him off, "We'll worry about manners later." I climbed carefully through the door. Waves were tilting the plane back and forther, and I didn't know how much longer we'd stay buoyant.

"Right. There should be an emergency pack or two in the VIP room. Check that while I check the rest of the passengers." He headed towards the closed door.

I blinked, realizing I'd forgotten about them. I'd only been worried about him, and now that I knew he was safe, my priority had been to immediately get off the plane.

"Be careful," I warned him.

"You too, 'Nik." He touched my cheek then headed back towards the door, though it was leaking water.

I went the opposite direction, into the VIP room, immediately locating the closet. I grabbed a handful of inflatable life vests -- putting one on immediately, and two of the inflatable raft things, which were quite heavy.

By the time I carefully made my way back to the main hallway, Darian was waiting for me, taking a vest and one of the rafts. That's one of the reasons he was perfect, I think. Most guys would have taken both, or neither. Darian was chivalrous without being demeaning.