Disciplining Little Abby

by Serafine Laveaux

  She wasn’t the only one. From the moment her file and photo appeared in his inbox, he’d felt an undeniable attraction to her. A newspaper copy editor who dressed like a goth and was into skateboarding. To his surprise, the paperwork showed she came from a wealthy family, with several rising stars for sisters. Private school, beauty pageants, frequent mentions in the local society pages. At least, mentions of her mother and sisters. Mallory Dawn Willis might as well have been a ghost. Not that he was surprised. Her fuck you attitude was obvious in everything from her clothing to her job to the car she drove, and he doubted the family went out of their way to include the black sheep in social gatherings.

  The attitude didn’t bother him at all; in fact, it was what drew him to her. He could see it was just a protective defense. Beneath the exterior was a lost, innocent, trusting little girl—he was sure of it. The challenge would be drawing her out. That, and not losing control, which was proving more difficult with every full body shudder she transmitted to him.

  God, I want to taste that mouth. He imagined himself behind her, buried to the hilt in her pussy, with those saucy ponytails of hers grasped in one hand. His other hand firmly and rhythmically smacked her cheeks to a beautiful crimson. Groaning, he gave his head a quick shake to clear the images, determined to focus on the traffic instead of his own swelling hardness demanding to be set free.

  Behind him she shifted and buried her face in his hair. Her hot breath burned against his neck, and in an instant, the visions roared back. This time his thick cock was slipping in and out of her full lips, her beautiful blue eyes turned up to him as he held her ponytails and guided her along the entire length of his glistening shaft. Teaching her how to take it all in, how to pleasure him and take pleasure from him. The effect she was having on him was electric, and it was all he could do to hold his lust at bay.

  He had barely gotten himself back under control by the time he turned into the parking lot of the Verizon Theatre. A mixture of regret and relief filled him as her embrace relaxed and she straightened up, her body pulling away from his as she did so. He took his time finding a parking space, giving his raging erection time to subside before he had to get off the bike.

  “I hope you like Offspring,” he said over his shoulder as he finally pulled into a space. “Alkaline Trio and Street Dogs are opening.”

  “Oh my God, are you serious?” she squealed with delight. “They’re like, one of my favorite bands ever!” Bouncing up and down on the back of the bike, she renewed her tight embrace.

  Chris smiled dryly at the hopeful stirring below his belt. Patience, buddy, patience.

  * * *

  Arm-in-arm, they made their way into the building, and Abby felt a thrill of pleasure at the jealous looks more than one woman cast her way. The weight of his arm around her shoulders already had her thinking about how his weight would feel in other ways, and the envious glances as they moved towards the concession stands stirred something primal and possessive from deep within her body. Despite her earlier resolve not to let herself fall for the handsome stranger beside her, Abby was overwhelmed by her desire to kiss him, to feel his full lips against her own as her hands laid claim to the flesh beneath his shirt. The thought of doing it in front of his passing admirers only fueled the fire that was building between her thighs as they jostled their way through the crowd to get in one of the concession lines.

  All of the concession stands were packed. Behind her, Chris stayed protectively close, and she was acutely aware of his hand lightly touching her waist as he guided her through the mob. Wishing she’d worn the midriff baring t-shirt she’d initially picked out, she imagined how it would feel to have his fingers drift across her bare side, or stroke across her belly. She’d yet to get herself back under control after nearly climaxing on the ride over, and the unexpected sensation of his sparsely stubbled jaw grazing against her ear as he asked what she wanted to drink nearly sent her to her knees. By the time they’d finally moved to within a few people of the counter, she knew she might as well throw her resolve in the nearby trashcan. She was hooked.

  “Coors Lite,” she answered shakily, retrieving her driver’s license from her backpack.

  Almost immediately, he snatched it from her and tucked it into his back pocket. “Nice try,” he scolded, shaking a stern finger at her. “Not interested in spending half the concert trying to talk some cop out of busting you for minor in possession. Or me,” he added, “for contributing or something.” He stepped forward and ordered her a soda, then asked if she could find her way to their seats okay before excusing himself to make a run for the restroom.

  “Oh Em Gee! He is like, so hot!”

  Abby looked around to see two teenaged girls standing off to one side, both staring slack-jawed at Chris’ rapidly vanishing back. One of them took a step back and sized Abby up. “Tell me that’s your brother and he’s single,” she demanded.

  “He’s my boyfriend.” Abby felt a shiver ripple up her spine as she said it. My boyfriend. She liked the way that sounded, even if it wasn’t quite the right term. Now both girls were staring at her, clearly impressed. She found she liked that too, though she couldn’t put her finger on why. It wasn’t just the pleasure of being the object of envy; there was more to it than that, something familiar but forgotten.

  The second girl shook her head and looked back towards the crowd where Chris had vanished. “So tell us he has a brother, then, and he’s single.”

  “And younger. Cuz my mom would like, chain me to the basement or something if I came home with that.”

  “Mine would call the cops. But seriously he’s so hot.”

  “Mine doesn’t know he exists,” she giggled before heading towards the concert hall. It wasn’t a lie. She didn’t know when she’d get around to introducing the formidable Elizabeth Joan Willis to her new daddy-slash-boyfriend, or if she ever would. There was no question her mother would dislike him on sight. The question was whether or not Abby really wanted to push her mother that far. She didn’t want to think about that yet, though. For now it was enough to bask in the earlier envious looks from other women and the way the two girls had stared at her with awe and respect.

  It wasn’t until she’d finally found their seats and settled in that it hit her why the admiration of the young girls had such an impact. “They saw me,” she said to the empty chair in front of her. Teenagers hadn’t seen her as anything more than someone to walk around at the mall in years. Actually, no one had paid much attention to her in years, but it was the way teenagers looked right through her as if she were invisible that really hurt. She’d fallen off their age radar around the time she’d hit her early twenties, when some subtle difference or change that only the under eighteen crowd seemed able to see began to register. It didn’t matter that she dressed, acted, and talked like them. Somehow, they always knew. Abby had studied her face in the mirror a million times, looking for a tell-tale line or wrinkle that proclaimed her to be old, but other than the slight lines appearing between her eyebrows that were always hidden by her bangs, her skin was smooth and unblemished.

  These girls had seen her, however, had believed her to be one of their own. No matter how hot Chris was, she doubted they would have spoken to her if they’d had the slightest idea of her true age. Something had changed.

  * * *

  Chris went into an empty stall at the far end of the men’s restroom and leaned against the wall. It was rude of him to send her off to find their seats alone, but there was something he had to take care of. Otherwise he’d be taking her on the floor before the opening band’s set was over. Unbuckling his jeans, he freed his eternally hard cock and gripped it firmly. Closing his eyes, he imagined Abby’s curious hand taking control of him, her lips wrapping around the flushed red head. Groaning, he let his head fall forward onto his chest as he pictured her devouring his fat cock, felt her tongue running over the head and down the veiny ridge underneath, reaching out with the tip to lap at his balls. As his fist pumped faster an
d faster, he envisioned her head bobbing back and forth, heard her guttural grunts as she took all of him in, and felt her wet, willing mouth surround his cock.

  He came hard and fast, exploding everywhere as his ass clenched and spasmed. One hand flung out to brace against the wall as his knees threatened to give way beneath him. “Fuck,” he muttered shakily as he tried to catch his breath. As his strength returned, he grabbed a handful of toilet paper and quickly cleaned himself up, feeling somewhat foolish about the situation. He’d jerked off before he’d left the house just so his dick wouldn’t try to run the show this evening, but he’d underestimated the effect his bike would have on her… or the effect her reaction would have on him.

  By the time he left the bathroom, the worst of the crowd had made their way to their seats. Hurrying towards their section, he paused at the top of the steps long enough to locate Abby in the chairs below. Her twin black ponytails were hard to miss. Chris quickly moved down the stairs to the row just before theirs and snuck up behind her. Just as he drew up behind her, he heard her chuckle softly about someone being drunk.

  “Maybe who was drunk?” he asked as he climbed over the seat backs and sat down beside her.

  “These two girls at the concession stand. They were jealous of me.”

  “Why?” he asked as he put his arm around her shoulders. A burst of pink flooded her cheeks, and he couldn’t help but smile. She was adorable when she blushed.

  “They thought you were hot.”

  “And clearly I’m not, so they must have been drunk.” Chris laughed out loud as her cheeks went from pink to scarlet as she realized how that had sounded.

  “No,” she protested. “It’s just, you know, they were teenagers, and normally if you’re over twenty-five, you’re like, invisible to them. You’re just some old, irrelevant person they have no use for. Except they talked to me like I was one of them.”

  He listened as she explained what had happened after he’d snuck off for a solo quickie, enjoying the look of delight on her face as she recounted their conversation.

  “Well, why wouldn’t they?” he asked. “They just saw you the way I did, as a beautiful young girl.” He didn’t bother to add that the girls saw him take away her license and tell her she was too young to drink. It had been a calculated move to attract their attention, and it had worked brilliantly. The joy she took in just being noticed made his throat constrict, and he leaned over to kiss her softly on the forehead. “They see a beautiful, sexy, sassy young girl. Numbers are just something for the DMV. What they saw was what you really feel, reflected back at them.”

  Blushing, she smiled at him with shining eyes. As the lights began to dim and the crowd came to its feet, he found he couldn’t resist any longer. Standing up, he pulled her from her seat into a crushing embrace, his lips bearing hard against her soft ones with an intensity and power that shocked him. Within his arms, her body yielded limply at first, then pressed even harder against him. He felt her small hands plunge into his hair, grasping hungrily as her lips parted and allowed his tongue entrance. He reveled in the taste of her, hot and slightly minty, and when her tongue darted inside to claim his mouth for her own, the noisy crowd around them fell away. For a moment it was just the two of them, locked in a heated embrace as the heavy bass shuddered and thudded through every inch of their bodies.

  With a reluctant groan, he yanked his mouth away from hers and gasped for air, but before he could step back, her mouth fell to his neck, then the hollow of his throat, her tongue lightly tasting him every step of the way. For a wild moment he considered falling to his knees and burying his face under her skirt. The thought of slipping his tongue between her supple thighs and inhaling her musky juices destroyed the last shreds of his self-control, but before he could follow through, she broke free and pulled away.

  Blinking and slightly disoriented, he stared as Abby climbed onto her seat and began singing along with the band and a few thousand other concert goers. For a moment he thought he caught her secret scent, warm and damp, but he couldn’t be sure amid the combined odors of beer, weed, and perspiration.

  He’d had more than his share of women, but none of them had ever affected him as strongly as Abby. Mr. Greene had warned him that Abby liked to push buttons, but he doubted this was what the stodgy old bastard had meant. Just one look from those big blue eyes and his dick was ready to throw caution to the wind. I’m supposed to be the one in control here. He swore silently. So why am I the one sneaking off to the bathroom to jerk off?

  The noise of the concert was making thinking impossible, but before he surrendered himself to the music, he vowed this would be the last time Abby Willis would make him lose control with only a kiss.

  Chapter Six

  Afterwards, they had to fight their way through the screaming, cheering, utterly drunk mob just to get out of the building, and if it hadn’t been for Chris’ vise-like grip on her hand, Abby would have wound up lost in the crowd. As he carefully wove the powerful cycle in and out of the exiting traffic, she sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they hadn’t come in a car, knowing they’d likely still be stuck in the parking lot an hour later. Instead, they were flying through Grand Prairie.

  When they came upon an IHOP, Chris throttled the bike down and turned in. “Hope you’re hungry,” he said as he parked. Abby didn’t know if the nicotine patch was wearing off or she was just missing having something in her mouth, but suddenly food sounded like the best thing in the world.

  They ordered a couple of appetizer plates, and Abby felt a flare of jealousy as the waitress delivered them to Chris in such a way that she practically shoved her boobs into his face. As she bit into an onion ring, she tried to imagine what the waitress would think if she leaned over the table and kissed him full on the mouth for the whole place to see. The idea made her smile. It also made her heart flutter. She couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss back at the concert. If she hadn’t broken away when she did, she would have pushed him to the floor and straddled him amid the empty drink cups, cigarette butts, and a few thousand screaming strangers.

  “What’s got you grinning?” he asked as he picked up a mozzarella stick. “I saw the look you gave that poor waitress. Should I hide the knives?”

  Abby laughed and pulled her feet underneath her on the bench. “You know, when you signed that note ‘Chris A.’, I was imagining all these typical American names like Chris Anderson or Chris Allen. I never would have come up with that forty syllable moniker you got saddled with.”

  “Oh, it gets worse,” he grinned. “It’s actually Christos. Christos Antonopoulous. Thank God Greeks don’t normally give middle names, or I’d run out of ink just signing my name.”

  “It suits you though,” she admitted. “So you’re Greek, then. I can totally see that, you know, and I just knew I heard an accent when you spoke.” Abby drank him in, the golden tan and the ocean blues that swirled in his eyes. She could easily picture him on some sandy beach wearing a pair of white cotton pants rolled at the ankles, barefoot and bare-chested.

  “I was born in Greece. I came to the US for college and never left. My step-sister seems to be following in my footsteps. She’s in college down in Austin. Damn, these are good.” He paused to grab another mozzarella stick before continuing. “My dad and step-mom are still in Greece. They own a few cafes and a bar in Thessaloniki, make a fortune off the cruise ship tourists. They’re very proud Greeks. Dad complains about my Texas accent whenever I fly home to visit, wants to know if I had surgery on my vocal cords to remove it or some crazy nonsense like that. He’d be thrilled to no end to hear you say that.”

  “You gave up a life of sun-drenched beaches in the country that spawned Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates for the life of a drunken college student in Texas?” she laughed as she tried to picture him in some stuffy classroom amid a sea of frat boys, pseudo cowboys, and trust fund hipsters. “Knowing that, I can’t believe you were smart enough to pass the entrance exams. Tell the truth. You sweet talked
someone in the dean’s office, maybe promised her a ride on your motorcycle.”

  His eyes sparkled with amusement at her playful jab. “Believe or not, I have an MBA.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Truth, and don’t swear,” he admonished, “not unless you want a spanking.”

  The idea reawakened the swelling ache between her thighs, and it took all of her willpower not to squirm in her seat. Briefly she considered excusing herself to the restroom to clean up. She’d been wet since she’d first straddled his bike, and the thought of him spanking her was throwing the floodgates wide open. Should have brought a towel to sit on.

  “So what, you’re some rich billionaire Harvard grad motorcycle shop owner who looks like a rock star and has an MBA then?”

  He nearly choked on an onion ring while laughing at that. “You’ve been reading too many cheesy romance novels,” he chuckled. “I’m more than a few zeroes shy of that mark. I graduated from University of Texas in Austin. That’s where my step-sister is now, actually. And I didn’t have that bike back then. Drove a crappy Honda that left no favorable impression behind, believe me.” He gave a wry smile, apparently remembering his former wheels, then went on. “I own a couple of custom bike shops now. The degree helps me not go bankrupt with bad business decisions, but I always knew I wanted to build bikes.”

  “You built that bike we were on?” Abby was impressed.

  “Yeah, but it’s nothing fancy. I brought it because it had a place for you to sit. I have a few others, but they’re all single occupancy only. They’re cool to look at, but not nearly as exciting to ride as that little backseat,” he drawled, his eyes twinkling as a wicked grin appeared.

  Abby’s cheeks burned fiery hot as the implication of what he’d just said sunk in and she realized he knew exactly what that throbbing, rumbling, vibrating seat had been doing to her all night. “Oh my Gawd!” she laughingly gasped, covering her furiously blushing face with both hands. “Yeah, um… yeah.”