Disciplining Little Abby (7 page)

After they said their goodbyes, she slipped the phone back into her pocket and left the bathroom. It wasn’t until she’d sat back down at her desk that she realized it wasn’t Chris that she didn’t fully trust.

It was herself.

Too many times she’d fallen head over heels for someone, only to be left a devastated wreck wondering what happened. Sometimes they were nice about it, assuring her that the fault was their own. Others weren’t so nice, complaining that she was too needy or clingy or worse, echoing her mother’s opinion that she needed to grow up. The dirty cheerleader or naughty schoolgirl they liked; the little girl with the crayons and stuffed animals, not so much. With each new person, she’d sworn to take it slow and not let herself fall in love until she was one hundred percent sure they could really accept her, but every time she’d done just the opposite. Eventually she’d stopped trying to meet someone and had learned to bottle up her emotions, to hide the desperate need to be loved that seemed to do nothing more than drive them away.

The fact that he knew her darkest secret combined with the electrifying effect he had on her was terrifying. The pull she had felt towards him from the moment he’d handed her the balloons was beyond anything she’d ever felt before, and it would take every bit of willpower she had to keep from falling so hard for Chris Antonopoulos that there would be no coming back.

Once home, she fretted endlessly over what to wear. Her wardrobe was a mix of what Abby the Grownup was supposed to wear and what Abby the Not Grownup wanted to wear, much of the latter having been bought on impulse and never actually worn. Now that she finally had the chance, she couldn’t make a decision. At last she settled on a short white denim skirt that had a flouncy lace overlay, a navy blue sleeveless hoodie with a sea foam green logo for some bar and grill she’d never actually been to, and a pair of navy All Star Converse high tops. It was a far cry from her usual Abby Sciuto inspired attire, but she’d seen a girl at the skate park wearing something similar once and had fallen in love with it. It hadn’t taken her long to track the outfit down, and at long last she was getting to wear it.

Grabbing a small tan backpack, she quickly stuffed her blankee in it, then slipped her driver’s license and some cash into one of the side pockets. Mr. Green had said that Chris would be responsible for paying for everything during their time together, but he’d also said their first meetings would be at his place, and Abby no longer knew what to expect anymore. Having her blankee along, even if it was hidden inside her backpack, would help her feel more secure.

Right on time, Chris pulled up to the front of her building on an impossibly stretched, low slung blue chopper. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white tank, with faded jeans pulling down snug over scuffed, black Doc Martins. Abby felt an electric jolt run through her as he stared at her from behind mirrored aviator shades.

Oh, Mom is gonna
hate
him
. The idea made her giggle. As she stepped up to the bike, she noticed the thin material of his shirt let the faint shadow of a tattoo over his heart show through, and she had to fight to keep from reaching out to pull the shirt up to see what it was.

He held a hand out to her, and she took it, balancing against him as she swung one leg over the rumbling chopper to straddle the narrow seat that flowed up and over the rear fender. Once in place, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against the back of his neck, closing her eyes as she inhaled the seductive scent of his cologne.

“Wear this,” he ordered, handing back a helmet he’d had hanging on the handlebars. It was black with purple and silver skulls airbrushed across it. She squealed with delight at the sight. “I thought you might like the design,” he grinned as he helped buckle it on.

“Where’s yours?” she demanded, but he’d released the throttle at the same instant she’d spoken and her words were lost in the menacing roar of the heavy cycle. As it surged forward, she tightened her grip around his waist, marveling at the rock-hard muscles beneath her hands and trying to imagine how the two of them looked together as they barreled down the streets. He shouted something back to her, but she couldn’t make out the words, and then they were on a turn and leaning hard to the left. For a moment her mind screamed for her to straighten up, but instinct took over and she pressed against him tighter than ever, leaning with him as they took the corner and then righting up once more as they shot down the straightaway.

She was giddy with the speed and the overwhelming scents of leather and his cologne that conjured up images of salt spray and white sands. The bike roared beneath them as it raced through traffic, leaning and whipping around cars as she clung tightly to him. It wasn’t until they came to a stoplight that the constant rumbling of the beast between her legs finally got her attention. With nothing more than a thin bit of silk between her and the warm, throbbing seat, the sensation was akin to straddling the world’s largest, most powerful vibrator. The combination of the rumbling seat, the intoxicating smell of Chris, and the feel of his tightly muscled abdomen beneath her hands was overwhelming. Despite the cool wind whipping against her face as they zoomed down the freeway, her cheeks began to burn as the growing ache between her thighs became almost unbearable. Abby couldn’t help but wriggle her bottom against the seat, praying Chris wouldn’t feel her uneven breathing against his back or hear the occasional whimper that slipped past her lips as she let the heavy vibrations fill her body.

* * *

Chris tried to concentrate on the traffic as they sped along, but it was impossible to ignore his passenger’s antics. She was practically glued to his back, and he wondered if she had any idea he could feel her subtle grinding against the seat. Grinning, he maneuvered the chopper between two cars and shot between them on the center strip, eliciting several angry honks from startled drivers and a startled gasp from Abby. Taking a hand off the handlebars, he placed it over Abby’s forearm and squeezed reassuringly for a moment before resuming his hold on the bike. He could have brought the car, but he was well aware of the effect the vibrating motorcycle had on female riders and intended to put it to good use. Judging by the death grip she had on his waist, it seemed it had also given her a bit of a scare. That was fine by him. A little bit of fear often heightened arousal, and if the heaving of her chest was any indication, Abby was plenty aroused.

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.