by Maddie Coe
Table of Contents
Title Page
Mine
Note from the Author
Copyright Page
Mine
Maddie Coe
When Sarah arrived to the United States from Brisbane, Australia she got more than she bargained for upon meeting Mason Scott.
The nineteen year old with dark brooding eyes drove Sarah wild with lust when she first laid eyes on him. What soon followed over the course of their two year relationship no one could have predicted. They began to realize that they were kindred spirits whose thoughts and desires ran much deeper... and darker than most.
Now the two shared a secret.
A secret that no one could possibly understand.
A secret that just might get them both killed.
Warning: This story contains both erotic situations and graphic depictions of violence. May not be suitable for all readers.
The blood flowed freely from his mangled nose, mingling with the sticky juices already covering the front of his blue and grey Avalanche t-shirt. Looking into the old grimy mirror above the sink, the pain was so intense that Mason Scott was forced to grit his teeth to examine his nose thoroughly. Pushing left, then right; up a bit, and then pulling it down — trying to assess the extent of the damage. It was bad. So bad, he could see the scar tissue inside his left nostril where eight years ago his parents had taken him to get his nose cauterized because he was always getting nose bleeds after a run in with a schoolyard bully. Mason couldn’t remember the kid’s name but he’d been harassing a friend of his named Alicia Brooks on the school bus all week and everyone had been too scared to do anything about it. Everyone except Mason. He’d stood up and told the bully to stop or he was going to punch him until the bones in his hands were broken. He’d meant it, too. Someone would have had to drag him off the rotten bastard. Without a thought the much larger boy had laughed and sent Mason sprawling with a fist to the nose. Tears mixed with blood and rage as Mason had laid in the aisle of the bus blinking up at the bully. Not exactly the heroic scene he’d envisioned at the time, but some good had come out of it. He’d learned two important lessons that day. One was that standing up for someone else was pointless and could potentially hurt like hell; the other being that although losing a lot of blood might be scary, the punch itself hadn’t been nearly as bad as he’d been afraid it would be. In fact, crazy as it sounded, Mason had kind of liked it.
A life changing moment, even at the tender age of eleven.
But that was then, this was now. Somehow his bitch of a girlfriend had sliced completely through the cartilage in the upper part of his nose. Adding insult to injury, Sarah had done it with his own damn knife. Mason had been holding the double-edged dagger menacingly in front of his face as he prepared to slice into her belly again when Sarah had lurched forward, head-butting him with the razor-sharp knife trapped between them. She screamed. He screamed. His vision blurred white just for a moment and he nearly passed out. When his sight returned to normal, he saw a four-inch horizontal slice on her forehead and blood cascading over her perfectly arched eyebrows, through her eyelashes and down into her eyes. The cut didn’t look deep but head wounds always looked worse than they were, bleeding like crazy. The dark crimson fluid made Sarah’s beautiful blue eyes look truly demonic and Mason couldn’t help but think, God, she looks so beautiful. And he wanted her more in that moment than any woman he’d ever been with in his life. But then the pain of his own injury jolted him from his fantasy.
He could still hear Sarah whimpering in the other room as he looked for something, anything, to staunch the flow of his own blood. Unfortunately, the bathroom in the hunting cabin was bare. Kicking off his right boot he bent over and yanked his sock off. Dabbing at the wound caused him more than a bit of discomfort but he sucked up the pain with a smile on his face, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Just thinking about his girlfriend’s silky blonde hair, long legs, and spectacular full breasts was enough to make Mason forget the agony of his wound. He felt his penis starting to get hard in his pants again. Man how he loved that bitch! She was absolutely perfect. He hated her too, could barely stand the fucking sight of her most of the time, but it was that strange attraction/repulsion that was all part of why they needed each other so badly.
Anger and lust and frustration and rage got the better of Mason as he spun from the bathroom, walking in an awkward, uneven gait with one boot clomping off the floor as he walked across the cabin’s hardwood floors. It reminded him of what he thought a peg-legged pirate would sound like as he walked across the deck of his pirate ship. Arrgg matey, he thought, tapping the bloody knife against his left leg as he walked. I’m coming to get you wench. Coming to collect my bootie!
***
Sarah Sweet’s reprieve ended when she heard strange sounding footsteps coming into the room. She lifted her head to try and see, the blood from her forehead tinting the world red as though she were wearing rose-colored glasses. She snickered momentarily at the irony of that thought. Fucking bastard! Got me good this time. My stomach too. Probably even leave a scar. Christ! He’s gonna pay for that!
At twenty-four years old, Sarah was only older than Mason by five years but she looked much younger than that in person, still getting carded every now and then at the liquor store or going into a club. Several people had mistaken her for Mason’s younger sister, which was embarrassing but secretly quite thrilling as well. Sarah was a beautiful woman, and she knew it. Everyone knew it, which was why no one seemed to understand how a girl like her had ever ended up with a guy like Mason. Not that there was anything wrong with him, he was a big teddy bear of a man with high cheekbones and dark brooding eyes that drove Sarah wild with lust whenever he looked at her. His facial hair tickled her in all the right places too. Mason had been born and raised in rural Colorado while she had grown up in the bright lights of Brisbane, Australia, half a world away. Still, opposites attract, right? And besides, they had more in common than any of their friends realized.
Secret things.
Mason was walking back into the room, but for some reason he only had one boot on. He looked like a drunken fool as he walked, his body rising with one step and falling with the next. Diddle diddle dumpling, one shoe on. Her mother had always sang that to her when she was a kid. It never really made any sense to her — then or now — but it was the first thing that popped into her mind. Other than her burning desire to get even with her boyfriend of two years. She intended to make him pay big time for the bullshit he was pulling this weekend. Either that or fuck him raw. A shiver ran down her belly at the thought, her nipples turning hard as the sensation tickled and buzzed all the way down between her legs. Yeah…maybe that was a better idea. After the violence always came the sex — truly amazing sex — and Sarah was more than ready for as much of that as she could get.
Mason was holding what looked like a sock to his nose trying to staunch the flow of blood. Good, she thought, thrilled that she’d accomplished something when she’d lashed out at him. As he got closer she also noticed the bulge in his pants, his impressive manhood straining for release from his tight denim jeans. Sarah started to smile at the thought of pleasing him but then felt a shadow of uneasiness creep over her at the way he still held the wickedly sharp blade in his other hand. Slightly nervous but not willing to admit it — to Mason or to herself — she scooted the chair to the side, spinning slightly as she did. Mason had bound her naked to a rolling desk chair before any of this had started. She was used to him tearing her clothes off and wanting to tie her up, and had submitted to the blue silk rope willingly. Eagerly, in fact. The only issue was Mason’s choice of chairs. Who the hell used a desk chair on wheels for something like this? In the movies or in books it was always an old straight back wooden chair; the kind that in
a manic fit of adrenaline you were able to rock back on, toppling over and smashing, freeing yourself and getting your choice of sharp pointy chair legs to use as weapons. But no, not her psycho lover. He’d used a rolling office chair with molded plastic arms, five wheels on a pedestal base that caused her to spin slightly with any little movement she made on these uneven wooden floors.
“I don’t know why the fuck you have to be such a nasty bitch all the time,” Mason said when he was finally right in front of her again, his voice muffled through the sock bandage. “It’s starting to get on my nerves.”
“I am a bitch, aren’t I? But I’m your bitch, Mason…to do with whatever you want. How about if I make it up to you?”
“Oh yeah, how you gonna do that?”
Sarah lowered her eyes to Mason’s crotch and slowly licked her lips. “Well, big boy…I could start by helping you out with that thing. Put down the knife and stick me with that other dagger? I dare you!”
Mason didn’t need to be told twice. Sarah’s mouth watered as she watched her boyfriend cut her free from her silky bindings, throw his blade over onto the edge of the nearby bed, toss away the bloody sock, and hastily unzip his pants. That was all the help she needed. She was more than capable of taking over from there. Mason might think he was the boss and controlled the pain, but the pleasure part of their unusual relationship was definitely her job — and she was damn good at it.
Of course, practice makes perfect, Sarah thought, dropping to her knees and seductively batting those big innocent blue eyes skyward as she slowly teased his jeans down to his ankles. She gently toyed with his balls through the thin cotton of his boxer shorts before finally reaching in to set free his swollen cock. As always, it immediately bobbed to attention inches from her face, standing up tall and proud and ready to do some serious damage. Long and thick, Mason had the kind of cock most women could only dream their men had. The kind of cock that said, ‘Better back off girlie…you’re in way over your head’ when you first saw it. Fortunately, Sarah was no shrinking violet and was more than up for the challenge.
She licked her way up his shaft, taking her sweet time swirling the tip of her tongue around the engorged head, making sure to hit all those wonderfully sensitive places hidden just beneath the rim. Mason moaned when she finally took all of him into her warm mouth — or at least as much of him as she could take — and while Sarah slowly rocked her body up and down she went back to massaging his balls. This wasn’t her first time doing this dance and instinctively knew when to increase her rhythm as Mason’s breathing increased. She could sense his stomach muscles tightening and her swirling tongue could feel the vein running down the length of his manhood starting to throb, his head swollen so hard it was pulsing with each beat of his heart. When she felt the moment was right she slid a finger into her lover’s ass, hoping to catch Mason off guard and surprise him into climaxing. She’d done this same thing several times in the past and it had made him instantly splash a huge load of hot cum down her throat. Tonight she wasn’t so lucky. She was going to have to work harder for her reward tonight.
Standing up, she leaned in to give Mason a long, hungry kiss, their lips mashing into each other’s, their escalating passions fueled by the coppery taste of their recently spilled blood. Mason’s hands greedily found her heaving breasts, his strong fingers pinching and twisting her engorged nipples with just enough force to send fireworks shooting down through her core to make her clitoris ride wave after wave of pleasure. Sarah was close to orgasm and he had barely even touched her yet. As much as she wanted to guide one of his talented hands down between her thighs, she wanted his cock more. Patience and foreplay had never been her strong points. Sarah was more of a ‘get right to it’ kind of girl. She was ready to explode and she wanted his manhood inside of her when she did.
Or better yet, maybe they could cum together.
Breaking free from his kiss, Sarah spun around and bent over the nearby wooden desk. In the heat of the moment, she frantically swept the small lamp and the old fashioned telephone off onto the floor and presented Mason with her perfect pear-shaped ass. If there was one thing she knew Mason loved, it was giving it to her Kitty Style. It was a little inside joke between them, and if anyone asked what the hell kitty style was Mason would always smile and say, ‘It’s a lot like Doggy Style but with more scratching and biting’. Most people thought he was kidding.
Sarah reached back with both hands, spread her tanned ass cheeks wide open and said, “Come on baby…hit it hard. Meow!” She turned away and waited to savor the feel of his thick shaft sliding in all the way to the hilt, filling her like no one else ever had. She couldn’t wait any longer, her body literally vibrating with excitement. If Mason was real good, she might even reach around before he was done and guide him that fraction of an inch north to the promise land all alpha males secretly craved. Hell, who was she kidding, Sarah liked anal sex just as much as he did. Probably even more.
“Give it to me, Mason. I need it really bad!”
But he didn’t.
Not in her pussy and not in her ass. In fact, Mason never touched her at all. When Sarah turned to see what was going on, she saw that he’d stepped out of his jeans and underwear. His penis was getting soft and he was walking over to sit down on the edge of the queen size bed. What the hell? she thought. This wasn’t like Mason at all. Not the Mason that she knew anyway. Never in all the time they’d been together had he ever turned down sex. Was he sick? Was he having trouble keeping it up? Doesn’t he want me anymore? All those questions and more rushed through her head but Mason just sat there looking down at the floor, not saying a word.
“Mason?” she tried. “Are you…okay?”
***
Mason sat in silence, not even willing to look at his girlfriend, much less talk to her. Was he okay? No, not really. Other than the nasty cut across the bridge of his nose, there was nothing physically wrong with him but as he’d hovered above Sarah, looking down at the way she was offering herself like that, something inside of him had simply shut off. Something deep within his psyche had just whispered to him that enough was enough, the game was over. Sure the sex between them had always been good. Hell, it had been fantastic, but for some reason lately he just hadn’t felt quite as into it as he normally was.
He’d met Sarah a little over two years ago, picking her up in a bar in downtown Colorado after an Avalanche hockey game. She’d looked incredible that night, dressed in skintight jeans and a V-neck t-shirt that left little to the imagination. She’d been way out of Mason’s league, of course, but he’d been drinking all-night and decided to say hi to her anyway. Turned out she’d only recently moved to the United States from Australia. As luck would have it Mason had recently been over there on holiday and it had given them something in common to start talking about. With her smoking hot body, beautiful face, and exotic accent, Sarah could have walked out of that bar with any man in the joint that night but she hadn’t. She’d come home with Mason.
Sex had been good right from the start but in all honesty, if all he had to offer Sarah was a big cock and some run of the mill vanilla-flavor missionary sex their relationship would have crashed and burned after the first few weeks. No, it wasn’t until an accident happened in bed one night that they first began to realize they were kindred spirits whose thoughts and desires ran much deeper (and darker) than most. Mason had been on top of her, pumping away, and had pulled out so he wouldn’t cum too fast. To buy some time, he’d been kissing her neck, slowly moving down to her breasts, and intending to kiss all the way down her stomach until he was between her legs. When he was sucking on her left nipple he’d decided to give her a little pinch with his teeth but she’d been writhing with pleasure below him and moved at the exact second Mason clamped his teeth. He’d inadvertently bit her harder than he’d intended. Much harder. So hard, in fact, he’d drawn blood. Sarah had screamed and nearly bucked him clear off of their bed. Even as Mason was realizing he’d liked the taste of her blood
and was really turned on by the site of the thin line of crimson juice draining off her full breasts and funneling down toward her belly button, he was sure that he’d just ended their relationship. No woman would want to be hurt like that; especially not this beautiful woman who could have her pick of men. He was wrong, though. Mason’s accidental bite had hurt Sarah, sure, but she’d admitted that the pleasure he’d given her in that moment had been unlike anything she’d experienced before in her life. She said she’d never cummed so hard in her life.
And she wanted more of it.
From there, the sex had become rougher. Stranger. Nastier. They progressed further and further toward the dark side of eroticism: massages turning to scratches, pinches turning to bites, spanks turning to slaps, pleasure turning to pain but that same pain multiplying the pleasure into ecstasy for both of them. It had been wonderful for a while. They’d each found a partner who they could trust with their deepest secrets and play out their darkest desires. When Mason wanted to tie Sarah up with an electrical cord and have his way with her, she’d said yes. When Sarah wanted to pretend a burglar was climbing into her room late at night to rape her, Mason had put on the black ski mask and waited outside her window, pouncing on her when she least expected it. For the most part it had all been fairly clean, innocent fun. They’d give each other the occasional bump and bruise and the odd scratch, but overall things had remained fairly tame.
And then Mason had brought the first knife into their bedroom.
They’d been role-playing a lot lately and it had just seemed more realistic for a thief, or a mugger, or a kidnapper (whatever role he happened to be playing) to bring a weapon along with him to intimidate his potential victim. Sarah loved the idea, the fear of the sharp blade raising the stakes and making her all the more excited. Once Mason actually crossed the line and cut her with it, all bets were off and things had escalated to the point where they were at now — sitting in a hunting cabin in the remote woods near Chasm Lake, Colorado both of them with cuts to their faces and not exactly sure where their relationship was heading at this point.
