tagInterracial LoveYou Don't Own Me

You Don't Own Me


I was super early and I hated being early to work because I usually had to answer the phones until one of the secretaries showed up. I despised having to be polite and cheery so early in the morning.

I'd been up for hours the night before, heavy thoughts keeping from getting any sleep. I was wide awake when my alarm went off. I hit the off button and sat up in bed. I threw off my covers like I wished I could throw thoughts of what's his name from my mind. Ever since I'd laid eyes on him a few weeks ago my internal balance had been thrown completely off.

As I got out of my car I checked my watch once again, as if I expected the time to have moved along at super speed in the last five minutes. Opening the heavy glass door to the front of the building I worked in I walked into the air conditioned place sighing heavily, and probably a little dramatically. I decided with little deliberation to take the long way through the corridor and around towards the elevators on the opposite side of the building. Yeah that should eat up maybe five more minutes, at the most.

Just as I was about to slide into one of the back elevators my eyes widened on the male that I saw coming down the hall towards me. Unfuckingbelievable! He looked like a million bucks in his black on black Jay Kos suit and tie that would look redundant on a lesser male, but that on him screamed fuck me now.

I didn't need to stick around and look into his eyes for the picture to be complete. I already knew only too well that his eyes were more silver than grey and were wholly predatory. It was; after all, his eyes that had enraptured me in the first place, all those years ago.

Today, however, I was in no position to be having thoughts about him and I also had no intention of stopping to engage him in one of even the shortest conversations on Earth. I was only too happy as the elevator began to close with me on the inside saving me from having to look at him further.

The silver eyed predator, or Dorian as he is sometimes called, had his way with just about everything though. Just before the doors could fully close his Martian Braun covered wrist slid through the narrowing space reopening the doors so that he could step inside with me, the two of us alone. I quickly moved over to the furthest corner of the elevator, away from him.

His response was to smile at me. His smile was devastating even as it was more of a smirk than anything. I fumed, wanting to just throw something at him. I absolutely hated this bastard. At least that's what I told myself as I turned away from him while he pushed the button to his floor.

"Which floor?" he asked me. His voice was rough, commanding.

I could barely get it out with my teeth clamped shut but I managed to tell him. My only other option would have been to walk past him to hit the button myself.

His cologne already filled the air in the now too tiny box making it hard for me to breathe. I tried holding my breath rather than acknowledging the effect that it was having on me. There was no way I was moving closer to him. I asked myself why the fuck he always had to smell so damn sexy. And how could anyone smell sexy? I exhaled figuring my brain needing oxygen was the reason for my crazy and highly inappropriate thoughts.

Dorian, as opposed to me, seemed calm, even sane this morning, but with Dorian you could never really tell. Before I could even finish the thought I was having he had pinned me up against the back wall of the elevator rubbing his hard dick up against me through his slacks.

His mouth was a breath away from my own.

"When I got onto the elevator and sat my briefcase down, our hands touched and you snatched yours away" he accused me.

"So what" I asserted. As a matter of fact that was nothing less than self preservation, I added mentally.

He'd already been holding my hands captive above my head but after I made this response to him he tightened his grip.

"So I can't touch you anymore?" he demanded.

His voice resonated with resentment.

The ring on my left hand should have affirmed that the answer was no anyway, but he wasn't paying attention to anything except how his fingers were stroking my nipples through my top, making me light headed with arousal.

"I'm married" I hissed, angry at the sparks a simple touch from him invoked in me, although it wasn't like he didn't know this already.

"You need to stop" I expressed adamantly to him, but maybe unconvincingly judging by the wetness already dampening my panties and the breathlessness of my voice.

"Oh I beg to differ" he growled. He let go of me and walked over to hit the emergency stop button. The elevator jerked to a sudden halt.

"Are you crazy?" I yelled at him.

He recoiled in a mocking manner and then grinning asked me, "Why do I look it?"

The smug grin on his face had me wanting to slap it right off.

I wasn't at all surprised when he then came toward me, dropped to his knees, and lifted my skirt in an effort to bury his tongue in my pussy. He had always been a complete an untamed animal.

I kept his mouth away from my body by gripping his hair and pulling backwards so hard I knew that it had to be painful to him.

"Either you let go or this skirt is coming off ripped in pieces he", threatened me.

Would he do it, rip my skirt in an elevator where we both worked? Without a doubt! I knew from experience that he was entirely capable of this and more. I prayed that the guys who monitored the security cameras wouldn't recognize my face as I loosened my hold on his hair.

He yanked my drenched panties to the side and slid his tongue up the length of my pussy. I felt both guilt and a sweeping recollection of times past. A familiar red hot burn spread through me consuming all of the other competing emotions.

The way he latched onto my sex was so violent and at the same time very very erotic. I wanted this; maybe even needed it and he knew it, as he knew me. He knew exactly how to lick, where, and how much pressure to apply, for how long. It was all I could do to not lay back and spread myself further open for him.

I came in no time at all with one of my hands buried in his thick black hair while the other was busy molding his hand to my thigh in an effort to not allow him to pull my panties completely off. If I allowed him that far he'd fuck me right where I stood. I couldn't let that happen.

His mouth continued to French kiss my pussy until I was almost too weak to remain standing.

When he had finally had enough of me he got up and ran his fingers through his hair, then he straightened his suit and licked his lips like he wanted to get every bit of my essence down his throat.

After which he waited while I struggled to pull myself together. I nodded at him when I was done. He went over and hit the emergency stop button so that the elevator resumed its ascent. This was Dorian; the way he operated, the way he'd trained my responses to him so long ago.

With the elevator now moving closer to my floor, regret washed through me.

Dorian stood next to me as if nothing had happened between us. Without even looking at me to know if it was there he intimated that I should wipe the guilt stricken display off my face if I didn't want my co-workers to see it. His ever commanding voice helped me to do just that. I forced myself to not think of anything, nothing at all.

Once I got off at my stop leaving him on the elevator alone, I could finally breathe. I hurried straight down the hall to the nearest bathroom and locked myself in while cleaning up and berating myself for being so damn weak.

I could barely face myself in the mirror as thoughts of my husband kept bringing tears to my eyes faster than I could wipe them away. Dorian had always been like a drug to me only I'd thought that I'd kicked that habit years ago.

As I stared at my haunted expression in the bathroom mirror I reminded myself that I loved my husband very much, because I do. Matthew is the perfect guy. He's good to me, faithful, caring, loving, and the whole nine. He's also very handsome with his shoulder length blond hair and baby blue eyes behind Clark Kent glasses, set in a very intelligent face.

Throughout my entire day at work my self-reproach persisted as the past which I'd thought I'd buried came back to haunt me with a vengeance. It hadn't hit me this hard even when I was first dating Matthew and was still seeing Dorian occasionally. Then I had been trying my hardest to leave Dorian alone and then a short while later Dorian had moved away. I thought I'd been safe.

Still I had known all along that it probably hadn't been the best idea to marry Matthew, even after a perfect few months together. Not right on the heels of ending my relationship with the man who had dominated and controlled my entire life for the past five years.


Aside from being a loving husband Matthew happens to be one of the most intelligent and perceptive men that I know. While having dinner with him that evening I found that my nerves were shot to hell. Every little unexpected sound startled me. I urged my brain to get it together before he noticed and said something to me about it. I barely got through dinner; hurried through my shower, and attempted to go right to sleep when we got into bed, but Matthew had other plans.

His lovemaking was thorough and sweet as usual, the way I had learned to like it. But as my nerves were frayed Matthew's attentions were excruciatingly unbearable. I wasn't able to contain thoughts of Dorian that kept cropping up, even as I lay on my side while taking my husband's hard dick into my tight wet hole over and over again. When yet another image of Dorian's face flashed through my mind I yelled out in frustration, "just fucking come already Matt."

I immediately regretted my outburst as the lips caressing the back of my neck stilled.

"What?!" he exclaimed while pulling out of me and then moving on top of me, making sure that I was flat on my back and facing him.

I wanted to fight having to look at him but I knew that my behavior was already suspicious enough so there was no need for me to add fuel to the fire. I grudgingly opened my eyes so that his baby blues gazed down into my deep brown ones. I forced my gaze to remain steady so that whatever he was searching for he wasn't going to get from me. Finally after a few minutes of staring at me he seemed to let it go. He then reached down and guided his dick back into me without another word.

Instead of holding me like he had been a moment ago he braced his palm on the headboard above me and then pounded into me like I was whore who he'd paid for sex.

When I pushed at his chest in an effort to slow his incredibly hard strokes, he pinned my hands above my head and continued to drill my core. I came so hard the feeling bordered on pain, and still he did not stop.

Usually when he comes Matthew gives me an earful but he barely gasped as he spilled his come inside me. He then pulled out of me and left our bed going directly into our bathroom shutting the door. I knew without a doubt that he was supremely pissed off, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him get into my head.

I went over to the bathroom door and found it locked so I beat on it, in an audacious manner.

When he finally did open the door minutes later his blue eyes spit fire at me as he snapped at me in a tone that sounded like he wanted to take my head off with his words.

"What the hell is your problem?" I asked in the same tone, not about to be intimidated. I couldn't afford to be.

"Just fucking come already Matthew" he bellowed, repeating my words then frowning at me, his eyes still glowing with heat, "As if you have better ways to spend your time than to allow me to touch you."

"Oh my god, that's so not it" I lamented, full of relief that he didn't suspect the real reason for my iniquitous outburst.

"Then fill me in" he challenged, still looming over me.

"I have a headache" I finished lamely.

He just glared down at me and stated all matter-of-fact, "And I bet its name is Dorian."

Before I could even gasp at his assumption he closed the door in my face, a second later I heard the lock click again.

With nothing else that I could do I went back over to our bed to wait this stand-off out and to ruminate on what Matthew could possibly know. What exactly did my husband know? He knew that Dorian and I had a past, that Dorian was now in town, and he obviously knew that it had been affecting me. I was hoping that wouldn't be enough to convict me. I felt bad enough about what happened without adding to it.

When Matthew came out of the bathroom I went in and took me a nice hot shower leaving the door open, as it was better for my hair. He had steamed up the place and even though I was wearing a shower cap, with the humidity, I didn't want to end up with limp and dry looking tresses. Plus I wanted to make sure Matthew could see me in all my nakedness.

After my shower I took my time smoothing cocoa butter into my flawless Hershey's chocolate colored skin. I performed this act directly across from the bed, in front of where my husband lay propped up by pillows. He wore his glasses and appeared to be reading while he studiously ignored me.

I lost my patience when he put his book and glasses away and switched off the lamp on the stand next to his side of the bed, as if he intended to go to sleep without acknowledging me.

More than a little incensed I marched over to him and got on the bed straddling his hips while moving my naked pussy around on top of his boxer covered dick.

"What is this?" he asked indignantly.

My answer was to scoot my body up and over his until my cleanly waxed pussy hovered over his lips and face. I moved it around a bit, dangling, teasing.

It didn't take long for his arms to grab a hold of my hips and pull me down so that my clit met his tongue. I purred at the sensation, feeling that this was right, my husband's mouth on my body. I didn't want or need anyone else I told myself.

After I came I went down on Matthew, stroking, licking, sucking, and fucking his dick with my mouth like it was my favorite cherry blow pop.

"FUUUCCKKKK" he cried out, giving me what I'd longed for earlier tonight as he came down my throat. I continued to stroke him while holding my mouth open so that he could come into it. I then made a big presentation of swallowing all of his come, and licking it up from wherever else it had landed as well.

His eyes charted my movements like they were glued to me as I then crawled up his body and blew my breath into his face letting him smell himself in me.

And now that I was truly sleepy I rolled onto my side feeling pretty proud of myself that I had not, after all, let thoughts of Dorian ruin sex with Matthew.

As soon as my eyes slid closed an image popped up behind my lids and they shot open again, and with it a feeling of nausea rose from deep inside me.

The scenario had been the same, my cum filled breath blowing into the male's face. The difference was that I'd done it to Dorian because he'd commanded it, he'd leaned toward me inhaling, his nose near my lips and his fingers locked deep into my hair tilting my face toward him as my lips parted.

It sliced through me that though my husband's baby blues may have been sated as I rolled away from him with a grin on my face I now realized that the emotion flashing in Matthew's eyes was more shock than anything. He hadn't commented afterwards but I knew he had to be wondering where in the hell I was coming from with my behavior tonight.

Shit, shit, shit! I thought, so much for expunging reflections of what's his name.

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