Impulse (Isola dei Sogni)

by Raven McAllan

  "Inside." His voice was hoarse. "Touch inside. In the way you'd like me to touch you. Show me, Mia. Show me."

  Her body was on fire as she moved her hand. She'd show him, and rejoiced that she'd found a person who desired her so much.

  "Like this?" With an insouciance she wouldn't have believed she had, Mia wet her fingers in her mouth and moved them to her pussy. Slowly, she pushed inside herself. The look on his face gave her courage to move them further inside. As she scraped the walls of her channel, her clit tingled and sharp arrows of pleasure honed in on her nipples. Her juices coated her fingers, and without conscious thought, she moved her hand to coat her nipples with her essence. She trembled as she returned it to her heated sheath. Her head fell back and she gave herself to the sensations that bombarded her.

  "My turn." Dylan stood up and pushed his chair back. It fell over and hit the floor with a bang. Mia jumped at the unexpected noise and her hand moved out of her channel and dropped onto her lap. He lifted it to his lips.

  "Ah, so good, it tastes of you." Goose bumps covered her skin as he put her fingers into his mouth and licked them one by one. "Now I can't wait, my lovely Mia. Are you ready?"

  She nodded, her mouth dry as Dylan bent his head and sucked her clit deep into his mouth. Mia screamed and arched into him as her climax flooded her. He held her firm in the seat as lights flashed under her eyelids. Her body was so hot she was sure the chair would combust. He flicked his tongue over her sensitive nub, and then drove said tongue inside her channel. Nothing registered except the pleasure that filled her, made her shake and scream again.

  * * * * *

  There was a strange noise in the room. Mia rolled over, straight into a hard male aroused body. Her own body might ache in all the right places, but it responded immediately as his hands touched her breasts. The shard of pleasure went straight to her clit. His tongue persuaded its way into her mouth and said male body began to move against her. She'd be happy to wake up to this every morning, except . . . the noise persisted. Insistent and—

  "Dylan! There's a noise coming from your ear." She pushed Dylan with her one free hand, the other having made its way unerringly to play with those sexy whorls of hair on his chest. It was as if it had a mind of its own, completely disassociated with the rest of her. Thank goodness my brain is still in touch with it. Argh, shut up. The noise persisted.

  "Mmm?" He continued his exploration and her body responded.

  Damn, I want to climb on top of him and ride him 'til we come. Sod it, I'm gonna buy earplugs and ignore that sound. Sadly, she didn't have a chance to do anything. Dylan muttered something that sounded like a string of swear words.

  "Fuck it." He touched his ear briefly and stiffened. "This better be good. What? Okay. I'm on my way." He touched his ear again, kissed her lips with what she recognized as barely controlled passion, and moved to the edge of the bed rapidly.

  "Sorry, there's an emergency. I need to go. Shit! No clothes."

  "What was that?" Mia stared at his head. He looked bewildered, and then smiled as he touched the side of his head. The grin illuminated his face, as if the sun had shone on him.

  "This? It's a transmitter in my ear." He lifted a tiny piece of plastic no larger than a pea from behind his lobe and showed her.

  What? Fuck. Mia thumped his arm. He moaned and rubbed it with theatrical exaggeration before he reattached the transmitter.

  "Ouch, what was that for?"

  "Has someone heard everything we said? Everything we've done?" Mia was horrified. Damn, it should have been his balls, not his arm. Someone else might have heard her scream as he spilled in her and toppled her over the edge. Or listened to how many times she'd come and where? She'd never look at a shower hose in the same light again. Or look anyone in the building in the face. Talk about mega-embarrassment.

  Dylan crawled out of bed and looked down at her. His mind might be away from them, but his cock sure as hell wasn't. Mia lifted her eyes back to his face.

  "Well? Answer me, you asshole. Have you shamed me?"

  "No, for fuck's sake, do you really believe me capable of that?" He grabbed hold of her shoulders and Mia felt the unleashed power behind his hands. "Do you?"

  She sighed and moved her head to one side to feel his hand next to her cheek. He was trembling, his face ashen, and she was damned sure there were tears on his eyelashes. Mia felt like something from the slime at the bottom of a sewer. She'd done that to him.

  "No, no I don't. You're an honorable man." Her words tumbled out of her mouth as she did her best to reassure him. "I'm sorry, but this is all so new and raw, and well, important to me. I'm shit scared and I'm full of what ifs. You know, what if I don't do it right, you don't like the way I do it, you don't fancy me as much as . . . Whmmpf." Dylan shut her up by putting his hand over her mouth. He still trembled.

  Interesting.

  "It's on receive only. Mia, I'm really sorry, but I've got to go. One of our fantasies has gone pear-shaped, and I need to man the transmitter." He walked toward the door.

  "Here," Mia scrambled out of the bed, and threw him her bathrobe. She had a horrible premonition. There was a lump of lead lodged in her stomach and her skin itched like she'd eaten something that disagreed with her. "Who was in it? Are they safe?"

  "They're safe. Christophe has gone to assess the situation."

  "And?"

  "And I've got to go." He didn't look at her.

  "So who's involved in this fantasy?" Her eyes narrowed. "It's Meryl, isn't it?"

  He nodded. "But she's fine. And no, I can't tell you what it was or where she is. Seriously though, love, there's absolutely no need for you to concern yourself." He knotted the bathrobe around himself, the two sides barely meeting, giving Mia a very tempting view of a hard toned thigh. However, she wasn't in the least bit interested. No need to worry? Yeah, that'll be right. It's my sister were talking about here.

  She dragged a dress over her head, and ignored the fact she couldn't find her knickers.

  "Don't you 'love' me, you sod. What the hell do you mean nothing for me to get concerned about? That's my sister who's out there and whoever she's with. I don't even know where 'there' is." She sketched quotation marks in the air. "I'm assuming she is with someone? She's not scared and alone?" That scenario would be unthinkable.

  "No, she's not alone." The tone of his voice alerted her to something strange that made her skin crawl as if bugs were playing football on her skin.

  "Who's she with?"

  Dylan didn't answer as he tied his hair back with a strip of leather. To her annoyance, the sight of that simple act made her mouth go dry. He was pure sex on legs. What she could do with that thong . . . . She bit the inside of her mouth in annoyance to get her mind out of the sex shop—or the gutter. She could revisit it later if everything went okay.

  "Fuck it. Take me to this transmitter. Now." Mia decided if she'd been a cartoon character, steam would be rising from her head. She was angry with herself and worried for Meryl. Dylan stared at her. "What?"

  "Er, Mia?" He waved his hand toward her.

  "What?" She snapped the word out again as she flung the door open. "Well, are you coming or do I go and find the blasted thing myself?"

  Dylan shrugged, followed her through the door, and indicated the corridor to the right. If she wasn't bothered by her state of undress, why should he be? And worried as he was, he could still appreciate the sight of those beautiful breasts moving freely under the soft chiffon. He was sure if he looked closely, he could see the darker skin of her nipples beneath the cloth. Down boy, he admonished his eager body. This is not the time. He forced himself not to let his gaze drift any lower.

  "Whom is she having this alleged fantasy with?" Mia demanded. Dylan didn't answer immediately, and Mia had no patience. "Who, damn it? Who?" One finger jabbed him in the chest. Her fingers curled and he had the awful thought that maybe he should protect his dick with more than a toweling robe.

  A door opened and one of Meryl's
friends popped her head out. He stifled a grin as he noted only her head stuck out and the rest of her body stayed firmly behind the door.

  "Is everything okay? I heard voices." Her eyes were cloudy, and she blinked owlishly.

  "Fine," Mia snapped. "Sorry, Freya. This" —she glared at Dylan. If looks could kill they'd be picking hymns and arranging the order of his funeral service— "asshole is really pissing me off. I didn't mean to disturb you."

  Freya looked at Mia, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. It was obvious she'd never, ever, seen Mia like that before. Mia's hair was all over the place and it flowed down her back in tangled spirals. Her eyes flashed and her cheeks were red.

  Dylan's heartbeat increased; to him she was magnificent, and he wanted to love her senseless and protect her away from anything that would make her unhappy. Sadly, he knew he had no chance, not now.

  'Fuck! I've got no knickers on. And my boobs are doing the swing low sweet chariot, I'm swinging for England crap. All the bloody fault of some irresponsible shite-bag.'

  Dylan didn't envy that person, especially when Mia found out who it was.

  Freya blinked and backed inside her room.

  "Oh, okay. Fine. I'll see you sometime then." She shut the door.

  ' Argh, now Freya thinks I'm away with the mixer. I want blood, or balls. In a mincer.'

  Dylan looked at Mia, but wisely kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling that if he opened it she would search for said mincer. Or bite his tongue off. When she calmed down, he had a very interesting use for that.

  "Down here and through this door." He ushered her through a door, to where Faran stood at a transmitter with a tall elegant woman next to him. She didn't look exactly happy.

  Mia cleared her throat and stared at Faran.

  'That guy is seriously weird.'

  Dylan smirked. It was lucky she kept that thought to herself, although he was sure he heard Faran say thank you. He'd forgotten for a moment that as a tiger shifter, Faran was telepathic.

  Dylan walked swiftly over to the transmitter. "Any news?"

  Faran smiled and gestured in a find out for yourself manner.

  Dylan touched his ear again. And then moved a switch on the transmitter himself. "Where are we at?"

  The voice, recognizable as Christophe's, came strongly through the speaker.

  "About twenty minutes to get them. Marloth says they are both okay and we'll go from there"

  "Marloth? Marloth who? That bloody name spells trouble with a capital T." She glared and tapped her fingers on her arm. "The only time I've heard that name it spelled trouble."

  Dylan didn't speak. He watched her hands warily. Her knuckles were white, and she'd changed from tapping to clenching her fingers and making a fist. He was thankful there were no handy implements to throw.

  "Fess up. Who the fuck is this Marloth, and why is he on this island?" 'Surely, Meryl would have warned me? But would she, when she knows how anti-Marloth I am?'

  Dylan didn't immediately reply. The shit had hit the fan big time.

  "Hey, I said Marloth who?" Mia's voice rose. "Who do I do grievous bodily harm to in order to get answers?" Her hands still clenched and unclenched on an invisible something . . . likely Marloth's throat. Dylan could tell she tried to keep her temper in check.

  'That sodding name is enough to break me out in hives.'

  "Er, Mia is here with me," Dylan said unnecessarily into the microphone. "And she's Meryl's sister. Her big—"

  "And bloody angry," Mia added.

  "And, er, upset sister," Dylan finished.

  Mia looked at him in contempt. "Wuss."

  'Oh, yes. Discretion is now my middle name.'

  There was a silence in the room. Faran, in his own manner, looked amused. "Ah." The static ebbed and flowed, but there was no mistaking the wary intonation.

  "Exactly." Dylan ran his hand through his hair, making the bathrobe open to almost indecent levels. He glanced at Mia, who it seemed was too distracted to notice. At least she hadn't seen it as an indication to attack.

  Faran winked and slipped out of the room to return moments later with jeans and a t-shirt. Dylan took them, murmured his thanks and slipped them on, shrugging out of Mia's bathrobe as he did so.

  "And she wants to know who Marloth is." Mia snapped. "As in, Marloth who?"

  "Over to you," Christophe sounded amused. "I'm just about to arrive at the site. We should be back in five or ten minutes. Good luck." The transmitter went dead. Mia swung round so fast Dylan was amazed she didn't go dizzy and fall over.

  "Good Luck! Good Luck? Oh yes, you'll need all of that and more. Now, Dylan. Who?" If wrath could be measured, Mia's would be off the Richter scale.

  Dylan saw all his carefully nurtured hopes and dreams begin to crumble. Shit and fuck. Why can't Marloth listen to advice? Resigned to the inevitable, Dylan sighed. "Marloth Ducaine."

  "That Bastard? What the hell is he doing here? And with my sister? Whose stupid idea was all this anyway? Marloth Bloody Ducaine." It was impossible to add any more scorn to a voice.

  "Actually, it isn't Marloth Bloody, it's—" A discrete cough from Faran stopped him mid-flow. "Er, anyway, why do you ask?"

  "Come off it, Dylan. Contrary to what my stupidity tonight may indicate, I'm not buttoned up the back you know. Don't treat me like a moron. An idiot for coming here, maybe, and an even bigger idiot for falling for you and your tired old gigolo lines. 'I don't really work here'," she parroted. "Bullshit. Total garbage and utter pathetic lies. Crap. And what—" She spluttered as with an oath cut short, Dylan shut her up by the best method possible. He kissed her.

  There was an interruption from Faran. "The speedboat is here," he said calmly, "Just docked. Marloth and Semper are with them."

  "Good." Mia pulled away and wiped her mouth. "Huh? Semper? Not another weirdo? There's more stupid names around here than useful cocks."

  Uh–oh, that's not a good sign.

  She glared at him, and Dylan watched her hands. Her eyes flashed as she turned to Faran, and stamped her bare foot onto his boot clad one. She winced and Faran didn't move a muscle.

  "For a Chief of Security, you're pretty crap. You let that . . . that excuse of a man over there molest me, and didn't even batter an eyelid." She peered closely at him. "Do you even have eyelids?"

  He smiled, a curiously feline smile. The smile of a predator.

  Mia shifted from one foot to the other. Unease showed in every movement. Dylan could have felt sorry for her, but he was more concerned with what was about to happen when the passengers from the speedboat arrived. He cleared his throat. Mia flushed, and glared at him.

  "Sorry, that was rude." She turned to the woman standing next to Faran. "I apologize; I'm a bit uptight here. But he is a bit strange, don't you think?"

  "But, of course," the woman replied. Her smile lit up her face. "He's supposed to be."

  Faran laughed. It was deep, powerful, and definitely stomach curling, although whether in a good or bad way, Mia wasn't sure.

  "I forgive you." Faran spoke in a rumbling voice. Mia decided it sounded like the prelude to a tiger's roar. "Both of you. You're somewhat enraged."

  The elegant woman growled something unintelligible, and Mia fired up.

  "Somewhat? Asshole. I'll show you all what somewhat is. Lead me to that sorry specimen of a man outside." She didn't deign to say whom she meant. She was sure they all knew. Faran grinned. Mia guessed that was what he was doing anyway because it looked more like he bared his teeth. Seriously, the guy is weird. Come to think of it, he reminds me of that asshole Marloth.

  "Be gentle with him, with everybody. You're all a bit wound up at the moment." Faran touched her arm. "Please? And I need my security staff. Marloth is eager but green."

  Mia jumped and stared at Faran. "Shit! Am I thinking aloud again? Sorry."

  He didn't reply, just smiled that strange feline grin as he nodded and turned toward a screen on the wall. Mia couldn't make head nor tail of it. It was covered in stra
nge symbols.

  She turned to Dylan. There was nothing she could do here. She was going to find Meryl, drag the truth about this sorry excuse for a holiday, and demand to get the hell out. "Are you going to show me the way to the dock, or shall I just blunder about until I find it?"

  "I'll take you." He went to take her arm, but Mia shook him off. If he touched her in any way with even an ounce of compassion, she'd lose the plot, and either bawl all over him or kick him where it hurt the most.

  "I don't want you to touch me. Not now, definitely not until I cool down, and maybe not even then. You understand?" She stamped her foot. Damn, I need shoes. She turned to the unknown woman.

  "I need shoes. As you seem the only half-sensible, note I didn't say normal, person here, can you find me some? Please," she added belatedly. Her manners seemed to have disappeared with her temper.

  The woman inclined her head and bent down to remove her flip-flops.

  "Will these do?"

  "Thank you, yes." Mia turned to Dylan. "Cat got your tongue?"

  Faran let out a bark of laughter.

  Mia turned and glared. He put his hands in the air and said nothing. Mia turned back to Dylan. "Well?"

  He didn't answer, and Mia decided not to try and engage him in conversation. "Either take me to the dock or I'm off."

  She had a horrid feeling that if she did, she'd disgrace herself, either by screaming like a fishwife or wailing like a baby. Which scenario she'd turn to was debatable.

  Dylan put his arm around her shoulder and held her firmly. There was no way she was going to be able to shake it off. Mia pretended the warm weight wasn't there. It wasn't an easy thing to do whilst his fingers scribed a gentle circle on her skin.

  In silence they made their way toward the dock.

  The silence wasn't comfortable, and in no time, Mia was seething again. "Just let me find out what all this is about. I'll personally string them up, then string them all again. I actually thought things were good. I've just had the best climax—well, climaxes—in years, and now I feel guilty and it seems wrong. Damn them all, and, oh fuck—" She choked on a sob. Dylan held her close and rubbed her back. "This is just not me, I don't cry. I hate crying. It gives me a headache and I look like a rubber duck."