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  • Annika's Islands Ch. 01

Annika's Islands Ch. 01

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Chapter 1

"Rough Patch"

Annika

I saw my brother. While my breath instantly grew heavier and my pulse more rapid, I was distinctly aware in the back of my mind that the image looked vaguely familiar -- as if I'd seen him in exactly this situation before, almost as if I was having déjà vu. I felt myself reaching out for him, and so deeply ingrained as my instincts were, I caught myself immediately.

My big brother was occupied anyways; riding a faux horse into an equally ersatz battle. He swung his hand about in a seemingly random way, though he undoubtedly was cutting down all manner of evil-doer with a virtual sword. A sword that could only be seen if I would tear my eyes away from him and look at the screen hanging above the booth he was currently occupying.

However, the fact that he was only participating in a simulation -- No, a video game, regardless of how he tried to fancy it up -- didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. He was gleeful unaware of the outside world as he hacked and slashed, calling out various commands to his virtual army. A shiver of excitement ran down my spine, and I struggled to control my breath again.

I'll admit, it was a rather neat looking game... from what I'd seen before he'd entered it. However it paled in comparison to the chance of watching him in action. There was something about his sheer presence that demanded my attention. Or perhaps it was just the way, while twisting and thrusting, his thick yet lean muscles strained against the flimsy black cotton shirt. Or maybe it was how his thighs clenched the saddle; his tight jeans bulging with masculine flesh.

The shiver was a lingering throb now, emanating from the core of my sex up my body like tendrils of electricity, preparing my body for what I desperately wanted, but sadly, would never have. I wondered what his powerful thighs would feel like in my delicate hands as I gripped them. What his iron arms would feel like wrapped around my petite body. What his --

Abruptly, the image shifted, replaying from the start. My brother would smile at me, enter the booth. He'd don the thin VR glasses and mount the saddle, while giving me a reassuring thumb up. And then the fighting, the flexing, the look of absolute abandon and glee on his face. I didn't understand why I was seeing it again and again, though I didn't care. I clung to the memory with fervor, happily. He'd no idea to what he was doing to me. What he was making me feel... think... fantasize about. I simply enjoyed it, as a gift.

He was next to me in the following nanosecond, a whisper's breath away from me. This memory -- for surely that was the only thing this could be -- was not at all a pleasant one, despite the closeness. I felt the tears well up before he even spoke the calm, cold words to me. "You don't know what you want, 'Nik. Or what you shouldn't."

I jerked awake with a jolt, anger rising in me faster than I could imagine. I immediately realized that I was on a fancy new high-tech corporate jet, surrounded by several dozen first-class style rows of sleeping passengers. Darian Black, in all his six foot one magnificence looked very peaceful as he slept in the plush seat to my right, blocking my escape to the bathroom. He was sprawled out rather comfortably, having reclined the seat back into an almost elevated bed position, with the footrest kicked up. On his side more than on his back, he was curled in my direction. One of his arms had found its way under his pillow in what looked to be a rather uncomfortably position, while his other had snuck over to me.

I was surprised to find myself holding his very soft, pale hand. My body released its anger before I could understand why, and I melted back into a more comfortable position in my seat, keeping hold of his hand. Anger would be a waste at this point anyway, what with him being unconscious. And the fact he'd sought my hand out even in his sleep was truly touching. No matter how horribly I'd treated him on the little vacation we were just finishing, he'd treated me better than I deserved. If that didn't prove he loved me, nothing would.

Yeah sure, he treats me fine. He just doesn't give me what I really crave... I thought, before I could catch myself. I shook my head as if to physically fling the thought from my head; despite its accuracy. Yes, I had feelings for him. Intimate, longing, apparently unshared feelings for this man whom happened to share a father with me.

I could happily live -- ok maybe not happily, but live -- with the fact he didn't feel for me that way. If he'd been straight with me about it, if he'd simply said "No, that's gross," I would probably have gone out and found a boyfriend the next day; if only to soothe the physical need I'd had for him. Usually such issues were addressed by my vibrator, but my craving for Darian was so great only a man's touch could truly satisfy it.

Well technically, only ONE man's touch could truly satisfy it.

Realizing that I had been caressing the hand resting in my palm, I sighed. I knew I had that very obvious dreamy expression on my face as I gazed over at him. I didn't care. I didn't get many moments like this, to just look at him.

His blond hair, so very much unlike my own, was cropped short and naturally curled a fraction at the tips. He was clean shaven, though sometimes he wore a shockingly blond goatee, which I preferred only slightly more. His eyelids hid hazel-blue eyes the exact same shade as mine... probably the only physical indication we shared a parent. His jaw line was strong and sure, but hinted at feminine somehow.

While I'm no hater of the masculine form, there is such a thing as "Too manly." Darian, in my eyes, struck the absolutely perfect balance. His very fair, pale skin contrasted with well defined lean muscles stretch over a large frame. His wide shoulders contrasted with his delicious looking long, lithe neck, while his lower body... His lower body...

I gulped and blushed faintly; the one occasion I'd seen him completely naked popping suddenly into my head. He'd been stepping out of a steamy shower just as I'd walked in -- thinking we'd shared separate bathrooms.

He'd had a towel over his head, and I watched for five glorious seconds. I'd taken every detail in... the muscled, solid chest... the flat, impossibly smooth looking abdominal muscles with a faint six-pack formation. The abbreviated, thin trail of wispy-fine golden hair leading down to a...

Something a LOT bigger than my fingers, I admitted to myself ruefully. That was the wonderful thing about fantasizing about him -- Physics didn't matter much. If he'd actually shown interest in me, I honestly didn't have the faintest idea what I would do after that. There was no way that... thing would fit.

Another shiver ran through me, and I forced myself to stop thinking about him. Unfortunately that just led me to think about why I shouldn't think about him, which started making me depressed, and a little angry again.

I didn't let go of his hand, though.

Some time later, I was jolted out of my fitful sleep once again. Not due to a nightmare, however, but something much more frightening.

Another bout of turbulence rocked the small plane, leaving me no choice. "Dare. Wake up." My voice was quiet, even though I knew full well how heavy a sleeper my brother was. He used three alarm clocks.

I naturally received no response.

"Darian Black, wake up right this minute!" I hissed into his ear, though when I squeezed his hand it was in a rather loving manner that belied my fabricated tone of voice.

"Mmm..." He mumbled, and tightened his grip on my hand. That meant little. I'd had complete conversations with him while he slept. He never remembered them, either. Though they were typically my trying to get him up, and he giving me excuse after excuse as to why he couldn't.

I tapped and pushed on his thick shoulder, until finally he spoke a proper word, "What?"

Of course that didn't mean much; chances were he was still fast asleep. I frowned at his still-closed eyes, as if I could force them open through telekinesis. "The plane is shaking."

"Planes do that," His voice was half muffled by a pillow.

"So maybe something's wrong...?" I informed him, as if it were obvious.

"'n I'd make a better pilot?" He asked, with that stupid logic of his.

I narrowed my eyes, "Go. See. Wha- HEY!" He hit the recline button on my seat, causing my head to flop against it. My involuntary yelp was ignored; he simply lowered the cushioned armrest separating us and put his arms around me as if such a gesture was completely natural for him.

I didn't once think of stopping him.

He pulled me closer as he inched forward somewhat, our bodies meeting in the middle. He slipped the soft blue blanket covering him over us both. "Turbulence is normal, 'Nik. Try to ignore it. Focus on something else to tune it out." His voice was a gentle whisper, his lips inches away from my right ear, his arm resting gently just beneath my breasts. The heat radiating off of him mixed pleasantly with his scent... a woodsy, masculine aroma that was unique only to my brother.

He must still be half-asleep. I thought quickly, he's normally cautious about physical contact. Not that I could blame him. I had practically thrown myself at him. A few times. None of that mattered now, though. I fully intended on taking advantage of the situation -- the turbulence was already long forgotten.

"Like what?" I whispered back, snuggling closer to him. Eventually I gave up trying to put my arms around him and turned away so I could press my back and butt against him tightly. I loved how he felt against me... so hard and warm. We fit together perfectly, like two spoons.

"Just focus on my... me..." He drifted off to mumbling unintelligibly. The last coherent thing he whispered was "Angel." I quivered when he said it. He'd only called me that once before, in the same exact tone of voice. It was a tone he simply didn't use with me, save that one time.

I drifted back into a blissful sea of contentment, allowing myself to relive the memory on more time.

Darian

"Happy Birthday!" I yelled, popping up from behind my sister's car, holding a small chocolate cake with exactly nineteen candles adorning it.

Her face lit up excitedly, "DARE-EE-IN!" She leapt up into my... well my arm, as the other was carefully balancing her cake. Somehow I managed to set it down on the trunk of her car and shift her so that she was in both arms, without dropping them both to the asphalt. I returned her hug tightly enough to satisfy her -- which probably involved ribs cracking -- and set her down.

"Dare-ee! What are you doing here? You said you wouldn't be able to make it!" She tried to pout, which was impossible with the grin she was sporting.

"I finished early. Besides, Professor Moor said I could just as easily pass the test on Monday. He's basically promised me a job regardless; I am his favorite student after all."

She bit rather cutely at her lower lip, brushing a strand of perfectly straight, perfectly black hair over her pale ear, "You're pretending you being here was easy."

"Will you give me anything if I explain how difficult it was?" I raised a brow at her.

"Maybe..." She answered in an odd tone.

"Yeah that's what I thought. C'mon, blow out your candles and gimme your keys. You're of legal age now, we're going clubbing!"

Her eyes widened, "What! Really? Oh Darian!" She hugged me tightly, more excited than I thought she would be, even knowing her.

I struggled to break free, in vain. "A promise is a promise, sis. I'll try to make sure this is the best night out you've ever had."

Instead of laughing or cracking a joke -- what I expected, she simply looked up into my eyes seriously. "Promise me you won't leave me tonight, then."

A frown tugged at my face, "Why would I leave? I'm here 'till Sunday night."

Her eyes were more grey than blue, "Promise me?"

"What if you meet a cute guy?"

"You wouldn't let me go intoxicated," she dismissed quickly. "Promise me."

I nodded finally, "Ok. From now 'till you tell me to go I'll be right with you. I promise."

She kissed my cheek, all smiles once again. "Good, let's go have some fun!"

Everything that followed went by quickly. I saw her face as she blew out the candles; that intensely concentrated face I'd seen her wear so rarely. Then her exclamations over the limo I'd rented. The hurried tornado of activity in her apartment as she changed out of her work clothes and got ready, stepping out of her bedroom in a slinky black dress that looked great on her, contrasting with her pale skin.

We visited numerous nightclubs, though with her looks and the money I was throwing around, we were easily allowed in to every one. In each we would dance to music, sometimes outrageously obscene music. We'd be rubbing against each other in ways that would usually be embarrassing or intimate. It was ok this night, though. We were just having a good time.

I lost track of the amount of liquor I'd been imbibing long before I lost track of how much she'd drank.

We stumbled into the limo when the pulsing lights and music got to be too much, and we headed to a more subdued club. She'd chosen it of course, as she had all night.

I was surprised by the amount of naked women in this club, however. That of course being before I realized we'd entered an adult club, with full bar and fully nude performers.

I say performers because they were not just stripping on the stage.

"Uhm, thish the place? Shlerious?" I asked, quite inebriated.

"Yee-ah! I've havented been to one ever, ever in my whole, ever, life!" She yelled, a bit louder than was necessary. We sat in a booth near the main area, ordering drinks and watching a woman mount a rather substantial looking red dildo.

"Ohmigawd! 'Hic!" She actually hiccupped, "Hows'he manage dat whole thing?" My sister gaped openly as, I'm sure, was everyone else.

"S'been my 'sperience... that loots of lube 'n lots of bein turned on halps."

She turned to me, "Yeah, but she prolly worked her way up. All I can manage is like, two fingers. Fin-gurs. Feeeengurrss." She struggled vainly with the last word as she gazed down at her hands, wiggling two, and then looked at me. "How'd, do, you manage with uhm... what's her face?"

"Jackie?" I took another drink before delving into a topic I would under normal circumstances never feel comfortable with, at least with my little sister. "Not easily. She couldn'tve gotten more'n three in. 'N her fin-gurs were all skinny 'n shit."

Annika regarded me with a drunken expression, "So what'd you do?"

I shrugged, "She'd grab meh dick 'n rub it against her pussy a lot. That was hot 'n all but usually not enough for me so she'd..." I burped in what I'd hoped was a polite manner, "She'd usually finish me off with her hands or mouth or thighs."

"Whaa? Thighsex?" She seemed confused, and looked down at her own thighs.

I laughed a little, "She was shaved smooth down there. So she'd take a bit of baby oil or something and rub it all over herself, then she'd close her legs real tight around meh dick. She loved sitting on my lap 'n doin that. She could ride me and stroke me at the same time, not to mention it felt great 'gainst her clit too, I imagine."

"Wooah... So how'd you finally, y'know. Do it, do it?"

Again, I shrugged, "We haven't yet. She can handle quite a bit of me in her mouth, and we've even attempted anal a few times, but I'm still a little too big for her. We're working on it, though. She says..." I took another long swig of the never-ending stream of liquor that was being delivered to our booth, "She says that if we haven't fucked proper by our two year 'versary that she's just gunna fuck me drunk. She dun wanna cause she's a virgin, y'know."

Annika nodded seriously, "I don't care about that. When ima lose my cherry, ima lose it."

I waggled my finger at her, "Don't let some drunk college guy do it. Get a guy who'll put your needs above his own. That's the best kinda lover, regardless of the size of his prick. Or her prick, if you go lez," I added helpfully, mindful of being politically correct.

She just snorted, "Yeah, right. Hey!" She straightened in her seat suddenly. "Let's go play monopoly!"

My eyes widened as I stared incredulously at her. "What?"

"Remember we used to play it all the time? We haven't played in sooo long! Come on! Lesgo!" Immediately, she bolted out of her seat for the door, with surprising alacrity considering she was probably drunker than I.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, tossing down several handfuls of cash and stumbling after her towards the door.

Within the hour, we were at the apartment I kept in town just for visits to see her. I despised hotels and avoided them whenever possible. I wasn't what some would call 'Super mega-rich,' but I'd invented a couple of programs in my free time that made it big. So while I couldn't technically buy anything I wanted, I did have the luxury of never worrying about money.

"I haven't been here for months," I sighed, turning the lights on. The neighbor whom I paid to housekeep once or twice every two weeks had been doing a wonderful job. I would leave a tip for her before I left.

I followed Annika in, kicking off my shoes and putting our coats away. When I returned I found her standing in front of the lit fireplace -- luckily, one needed only to push a button to start it. I turned the lights back off, enjoying the soft glow. She was picking out music, so I figured I'd a minute or so.

I used the bathroom, rummaged around my bedroom for a bit. I looked through my closet, under my bed, in my dresser. I couldn't find the dumb board game for the life of me -- even though I knew I'd bought it just in the eventuality that Annika or I had the urge to play it.

Eventually, I gave up, returning to the front room. Annika was swaying slightly in front of the stereo built into the wall near the fireplace. Soft violins and rhythmic saxophones were playing a tune that seemed vaguely familiar. I hadn't a clue what it was about her at that moment. Maybe it was the intimate lighting. Maybe it was the soft music.

She looked... Beautiful. Not pretty or cute; beautiful. Her long black hair flowed around her like satin. Her eyes, though shadowed with her back to the fire, seemed to glow with their own illumination.

"Dance with me." She whispered in a quiet, almost husky voice.

I took her hand; she led me to the fireplace. I pulled her to my chest, her petite and rather short form snuggling warmly against me. Her head rested against my shoulder, not quite able to reach the top.

We rocked back and forth slowly, moving to the music. It seemed totally and completely natural when she tilted her face up towards me.

I didn't hesitate for an instant. I kissed her, fully on the lips. Not a cute, "Thank you for the evening," kiss. Not a brother kissing a sister -- kiss. Not even a drunken, "I'm horny and you're here," kiss.

No, this was a kiss that can only be felt, not explained. It was a tender, intimate joining of two people so obviously meant to be together. It was also a learning kiss, an experience that told me in no uncertain terms what she hadn't ever voiced, at least not like this. She was telling me with this kiss "I love you. I've always loved you." And I understood as clearly as if she'd shouted it at the top of her lungs.

Seconds of eternity slowly passed, and the kiss was joined by a soft, whimpering moan of pleasure. This, another wordless exclamation; just as easily understood. Desire.

I pulled away gently, gauging her expression, but mainly just using the moment as an excuse to look at her, to really look at her. My eyes racked down once, then back up to meet her eyes. My brain had instantly taken in every detail of her. The sleek black dress that left no room for a bra - or for that matter panties - clung to her petite body like liquid. Her breasts were perfect handfuls that had heaved proudly under my gaze. Her long neckline... which I trailed upward with a fingertip slowly... was smooth, pale and soft.

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