Archive for Excerpts
Poetry Train…
Happy Monday and glad you’ve stopped by to catch the Poetry Train. Hop over to Rhian’s to check out the other stops on this train. 🙂 I thought I’d give you all a peek at what I wrote yesterday for the SEx’s Flash Fiction. That way you don’t have to scroll through the 338 comments to find the little scenes I posted.
Title: Sharks in the Water (working title…lol)
We stand at the edge of the sand where the waves pound the shore. I drop our towels in a pile next to the backpack, pulling out my camera.
I bury my toes in the sand, snapping pictures as he paddles out beyond the breakers. A huge wave rolls in and he stands, weaving and bobbing as the water undulates under him. Without looking, I reach down and adjust my hard on. Watching him turns me on. There is pure awe in seeing a creature do what it is born to do.
Someone stops next to me. I glance over at the skinny kid and then back to where
“Hey mate, there’s sharks out there, ya know.”
I grunt and roll my eyes. Of course there are sharks out there. It’s
“Guy stopped by yesterday. Said there were two big ones spotted at this beach a few days ago.”
I nod.
“You might want to let him know.”
I nod, but it won’t make any difference.
“Mate, did ya hear me?”
I gesture to where
The kid shrugged and then shook his head. “Aren’t ya worried about them?”
“They’re always around. Swim with them and you won’t fear them.” I pick the camera up, snapping more pictures of
He waves to me and through my zoom lenses I see the brilliant smile on his face. Happiness gleams in his bright green eyes like we’ve just had sex. I shift on the sand, looking forward to going home and helping him wash all that salt water off.
A movement behind
“Fuck. A shark.” The kid waves his arms, trying to catch
“He can’t hear you, mate.” I stand and move towards the edge of the water, sand warming beneath my feet.
The kid starts to run past me and I grab his arm, jerking him back onto the beach with me. “Dumb ass, he sees them.”
“You didn’t get your bandage wet, did you, love?” He ignores the kid standing next to us.
“I didn’t. How big were they?” I’m eager to hear what he says.
“The biggest was probably the same size that nailed you.”
“You got bit by a shark?” The kid stares at me in shock.
I grimace. It isn’t a story I’m happy to relate. “It was my own damn fault. I knew better, but no, I had to go for the shot. A twenty foot great white came up to grab the bait we had resting in the water. I leaned forward, slipped and she nailed my leg. I’m lucky it wasn’t a straight on bite or she would have taken my leg off.”
“What the hell kind of sightseeing trip were you on?”
“You like sharks, mate?”
We’d forgotten about the kid. I grin at
The kid walks away, shaking his head and mumbling about crazy people. I’m glad that he’s left before realizing who
“I want to go back out,” he pouts.
I trace his lips and he sucks the tip of one into his warm moist mouth. I moan a little, feeling the lick of his tongue over the pad of my finger.
“There’s water back at home we can play in without worrying about sharks.” I wink.
“Go on,” I tell him, checking my watch. “You have another hour or so before I have to be back at the house.”
He gives me another hard kiss. “Thanks, love.” Turning, he dashes out into the rolling water, surfboard clasped to his side.
“Keep an eye on those sharks,
He waves back at me in acknowledgment. The kid thinks we’re crazy because we don’t fear sharks, but it’s hard to explain to a stranger. Sharks don’t bother us.
I’ve swum with all the large shark species. All those deemed man-eaters and could kill me with one bite. I swim protected by a cage or out in the deep water without any protection. Except for this most recent incident, I’ve never been bitten either. The sharks come to us, but not to bite or eat. They come to acknowledge us. To accept us into their domain. I’ve never felt fear when I’m around them.
It might have something to do with the strange dreams
Poetry Train….
Marsden looked up from where he sat, eating breakfast to meet Beng’s statement with a frown. “Are you sure it’s God?”
“Who else would thrust that beautiful boy into my path with such malicious glee?” Beng filled a plate with eggs and sausage. He sat at the table with his friend.
Pouring a cup of coffee and pushing it over to Beng, Marsden laughed. “That boy is only four years younger than you. And considering everything he’s been through the past month, I hardly think it’s correct to call him that.”
He glared at Marsden. “I’m trying to keep things from spinning out of control, friend. If I think of him as a boy, then I’m less likely to do something we will all regret.”
“Master David is a rather fine looking young man.” Marsden stopped when Beng held up his hand.
“Who has just been rescued from a horrifying situation. Don’t push me, Marsden. London and society doesn’t look fondly on my kind. They might turn a blind eye on rich titled men playing games as long as it isn’t out in the light of day, but they wouldn’t ignore me.” He shoved his plate away and picked up his cup. Standing, he moved towards the hallway and his study.
“You’re rich and titled. Why would you be any different than the rest of the sodomites who live in this town?” Marsden gathered the plates on a tray.
“I’m different because I’m a half-breed gypsy boy. They don’t forgive or forget differences like that.” He continued down the hall, missing the sigh his friend gave.
In the study, he stood in front of the fireplace and stared up at the painting above the mantle. “Why did I think coming back here was a good idea? I didn’t know homesickness could cause a total loss of sanity.”
The man in the painting remained silent. He went and sat down, dropping his head to rest on the desk. Closing his eyes, the image of David sprawled in his bed popped up in his mind. Dark curls the color of coffee graced his pillow. The younger man’s pale skin looked as smooth as silk.
Beng shot straight up in his chair and whirled around. He was becoming a bloody poet. Soon he’d be wearing shirts with ruffles and running around composing sonnets to David’s eyelashes. The day he did that, he’d shoot himself.
Movement outside distracted him and he moved closer to the window. The gardener was back. The worker was a few years older than Beng, but his tanned face and body held a masculine strength Beng always admired. His gaze focused on the man’s ass.
He imagined stalking out into the yard and bending the man over. Those coarse pants tore under his hands. He spread firm cheeks and drove his prick deep into the man’s ass. Its snug grip gloved him. He rubbed his shaft through his trousers. A moment later, the stillness of the gardener brought Beng out of his daydream.
The man was looking back over his shoulder at him with a knowing gleam in his eyes. Relief ripped through Beng when he realized the sill of the window blocked the man from seeing Beng fondle his groin. A quirk of the eyebrow told Beng the man wouldn’t be opposed to taking a break and having a quick roll in the flowerbeds. With a sharp shake of his head, Beng broke eye contact and turned away.
Scrubbing his shaking hand over his face, he groaned. He knew better than to let anyone find out his secret. He’d learned the hard way how to keep his impulses under control at all times. Four years of waking up in opium dens or back alleys and having no idea what he’d done to get there created a huge scar on his soul. He’d eaten garbage. Robbed people who couldn’t afford the loss. He’d watched friends die without shedding a tear, but with a great deal of laughter. Men had done things to him and he allowed their touch because they paid him in opium.
Poetry Train…
Today’s Poetry Train is another excerpt from The Gypsy Devil. (The regency I posted the first scene from last Monday.) 🙂 I had a migraine yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to write something new for everyone. I hope you enjoy this one.The Gypsy Devil (c) 2007 TA Chase
Excerpt:
The fire crackled. Flames danced in an orange and red swirl. Beng sprawled in the chair in front of the fireplace. A glass dangled from his fingers. Whiskey lurked around the edge, threatening to spill.
Without taking his gaze from the flames, he held out his drink. “You might as well drink it. No need to waste good whiskey. I’m not sure why Marsden insists on pouring me a glass when he knows I won’t drink it.”
A hand emerged from the shadows, taking it. “Maybe he hopes to have it after you go to bed. How did you know I’d come in?” Shade sat down in the chair next to him.
Beng laughed. “Marsden can have some whenever he wants. He doesn’t need to sneak them. When you opened the door, the fire leaned your way for a second.”
Shade nodded. “Most people wouldn’t have noticed.”
“True, but we both know I’m not like most people.” Beng looked at his friend.
Shade’s dark hair was cut short. His olive skin glowed gold in the fire light. Except for eye color, they could pass for brothers. Shade’s eyes were a jade green, shining with all the mysteries of that same stone. Beng’s own eyes were such a light blue, he’d been told they looked white at times.
Dark circles graced Shade’s thin face. He was skinnier than the last time Beng had seen him.
“You work too hard, my friend,” he muttered.
Exhaustion blurred the spy’s green eyes. “Working until my body collapses is the only way to find peace sometimes.”
Understanding what Shade meant kept him quiet. Some ghost was riding the man hard. Beng could feel the weight of those memories in the room.
“I heard
“Yes. He left to escape rumors.” Shade drank the liquor in one quick swallow.
“And to spy on Napoleon, no doubt.”
Shade’s head shot up and Beng met the cold stare with one of his own.
“Why would you think that?”
“Most of the Ton are idiots, my friend, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I am as well.” Beng shifted, turning his gaze back to the fire. “I know there’s more to the duke than being a simple widower. Who is the young man traveling with him?”
“A young man he has befriended and is escorting to
He didn’t heed it. “You’re doing it again. The duke has the same tendencies I do. Only he has less control over them.” He frowned. “Or maybe it is simply the duke has more courage to face the truth than I.”
Shade sighed. “You’re right. The young man is
“It’s been known to happen.” Beng’s gaze made its way to the portrait above the mantle. A stern older man glared from the painting like he was challenging the world. “I’ve seen love in the strangest places.”
They were silent for a few minutes, remembering. Shade grunted.
“What do you want?”
Beng shut his eyes. “I need you to keep an ear open for me. It won’t interfere in your other business. Just while you travel about, listen for any gossip concerning a young lord who has gone missing.”
“Missing?” A glance was shot his way. “We know what that usually means.”
“Yes, we do, but I’d like to try and find him or at least find out what happened to him.” He pointed to his desk behind him. “His brother had some other men searching for David. No luck, but maybe a clue or two.”
“I’m willing to help you out.” Shade stood, dropped a hand on Beng’s shoulder before moving to gather the reports. “I’ll send you news if I find any information.”
“Thanks, my friend.” He didn’t stand or turn when the door opened and Shade left.
Making his way up to his bedroom, Beng thought about his friend. There was a man haunted by experiences in the past. He said a silent pray and hoped Shade found peace.
__________________________________________________________________So I hope you enjoyed getting a glimpse of Shade-if you’ve read Angel’s Evolution, you’ll know who he is. He does play a bigger role in this story, but he still hasn’t found the man to make him forget Jonathan.
Have a great Monday.
Poetry Train….
Another Monday and another ride on the Poetry Train. Make sure to stop by Rhian’s blog to see who else is participating today. Here’s an excerpt from a new Regency I’ve started. It’s not about Shade, but the man does make an appearance in it. 🙂
One of our heroes’ name is Lord Bertram Beng Wilkins (Beng is Gypsy for Devil). He goes by Beng.
Excerpt:
“I’ve sold my soul to the devil, Marsden.”
Lord Bertram Beng Wilkins rested his chin on the palm of his hand and stared out the window. His eyes traced the muscled line of a gardener’s back. A gardener his sister-in-law had been gracious enough to loan him.
“I’m going to hell,” he murmured, his groin stirring as the gardener bent over to pull something out of the dirt.
“I’m sure you are, sir, but not at the moment.”
Something in the tone of Beng’s majordomo’s voice roused him. He turned to face his oldest and only servant.
“Do I have something better or more important to do than wallow in self-pity right now?” He winked at Marsden.
“Yes, my lord.” Marsden looked uncomfortable which was odd for the man.
“Are you going to tell me what it is? Or do I have to guess?” Bertram grimaced. He hated having to guess.
“The Duke of Wiltshire is waiting in the Red Parlor, my lord.”
“Will? Here?” Beng understood why Marsden looked like he’d swallowed a fish. “Bloody hell, the Devil is playing with his wayward disciple. I thought I’d have a few days to settle before I ran into Will.”
“I won’t lie for you while you sneak out the back like you did the last time, my lord.”
Marsden referred to the last time William had stopped by Beng’s
“How am I supposed to face him?” Beng closed his eyes and sighed.
Beng’s family seat shared property lines with William’s ancestral home. They had run wild together as children along with William’s younger brother, David. Will had been Beng’s best friend until they turned sixteen and Beng realized that his childhood love for his friend had turned into something more.
__________________________________________________________________I hope you enjoyed it. I’ve been working on it in bits and pieces as I get tired of working on Tony’s story. 🙂
Have a great Monday.
Poetry Train….
Here’s an excerpt from a WIP that I actually just finished and sent to my cps to check out for me. It’s called Out of Bounds and is about a basketball player and a nightclub owner. Enjoy.
He shook his head. “I’ll just have some of your water, if that’s all right. I don’t drink during the season.”
The bottle was handed over and Kasey took a sip. He rested his head on the cushion again, watching the crowd dancing in front of him. His thumb continued to stroke over Gram’s knuckles. His eyelids drifted closed.
“Come here.”
His body was rearranged so he leaned against a warm body. His arms encircled Gram’s waist and he sighed. The nightclub’s owner smelled of smoke, whiskey and man. Kasey buried his nose in the crook of Gram’s neck and sniffed.
“This might not be smart,” Gram said. “But I have to kiss you.”
Kasey felt Gram’s hands tangle in his hair and his head tipped back slightly. He stared in surprise as Gram’s face moved closer to his and their mouths met in a soft kiss. Gasping, he shivered with pleasure while Gram nibbled on his bottom lip. He kept his arms around Gram’s waist, clasping them together at the man’s lower back. Lust swamped him, causing his eyes to close and his mouth to open, allowing Gram’s tongue to sweep inside.
Gram tasted of whiskey and smoke. A taste Kasey never thought he’d find intoxicating, but maybe it was more the man than the taste turning him on. Gram tugged on his hair, encouraging him to lean back without breaking their connection. Soon his back made contact with the leather couch and Gram was lying on top of him.
It had been so long since he’d felt the warmth and solidness of a male body pressed to his. He arched his hips, pushing their groins together. His tongue dueled with Gram’s, stroking and thrusting, learning the man’s mouth. Kasey became lost in the sensations of pleasure and passion.
Gram moved an inch away, tilted Kasey’s head in a different direction and dove back into the kiss, taking it deeper than before. Kasey’s groan rumbled in the back of his throat. His hands cupped Gram’s firm ass and squeezed in rhythm with the thrust of their tongues and hips.
Tingling in his spine and the ache in his cock told him his climax was close. It had been over a year since he’d come with another man that he wouldn’t last much longer.
Applause broke through the haze and he stiffened. Gram backed off the instant Kasey tensed. Shock iced through Kasey’s body when he remembered where they were. Shit. He was making out and dry humping the male owner of a nightclub in said nightclub. Fuck. So much for keeping his love life private. He was screwed if any reporters or enterprising would-be paparazzi caught sight of them. Gram sat up and helped him regain his former sitting position.
Kasey glanced around, trying to see if anyone watched them. The back section of the V.I.P. lounge being bathed in shadows was why he’d fallen asleep back there in the first place. So he hoped no one peered too close at the couple on the couch. Also, most of his friends at the club were lined up to form a wall of bodies in front of them. Garrett and the others weren’t allowing anyone to look or step behind them.
Gram cradled his cheek in his hand, brushing a shaky thumb over Kasey’s swollen bottom lip. “I’m sorry, baby. I know I shouldn’t have kissed you here, but you’re so fucking beautiful. I never could resist temptation.”
hope you enjoy and have a great Monday.
Pimping Friday….
okay…I’m not really pimping any particular book. Though I did read two good ones this week. Haunted by Mike Shade and Living In Fast Forward by BA Tortuga.
But since Yvonne asked so nicely, I thought I’d give you a sneak peek at Tony’s story. This will be sort of a double sneak peek because in this scene, you also get to meet Derek St. Martin, one of the heroes from His Heart’s Home. The man who has been writing all those songs you read on Mondays. 😉
To set the scene up, Tony is flying back to Wyoming from Hawaii where he’d been for two weeks, competing in a bull riding event. He’s enjoyed a great night of hot sex with a luscious big blond. (Very important to remember the blond) Tony’s just received a phone call from Randy, letting him know that his brother-in-law is at the ranch, waiting for him. (for those of you who’ve read No Going Home…remember Tony doesn’t have anything to do with his family.) So he’s not a happy camper. He’s getting ready to board the plane.
Excerpt:
Tony heard his flight number called and grabbed his stuff. He boarded, put his bag away and sat. Shutting his eyes, he sighed. Maybe he and Mac should have done a little more sleeping and a little less fucking last night. He was glad he upgraded to first class. More room and drinks.
A nap would help settle his nerves. The memories only served to remind him anyone could hurt him, even those who should have loved him. Someone bumped his arm. Opening his eyes, he saw a tall lean man sitting next to him.
“Sorry about that. Jackass was in a hurry to get to his coach seat, I guess.”
The smooth southern drawl stirred something in Tony’s mind. He studied the man. A blue baseball cap and sunglasses hid the man’s eyes. His instinct told him he knew the man.
“Honey, when you get a chance, can you bring me a whiskey on the rocks and a beer for my friend here?” The man flagged down a flight attendant.
“Shit. You’re…”
“Yeah. Don’t say anything. I just want to survive this flight without someone asking for my autograph or a picture.” That famous smile flashed at him. “Though I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take one. It’s not often such a handsome man recognizes me.”
Tony’s mouth dropped open. There was no way Derek St. Martin, country music superstar, was flirting with him.
“If I ask for a picture, wouldn’t it blow your cover?” He managed to say.
Derek thought for a moment, his thin lips pursed and then he nodded. “Fuck. Should have known something would spoil it.”
“Here you are, sir.” The flight attendant handed Derek two glasses. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No, sugar. This is just fine.” Derek waved her away with a casual gesture.
“Don’t you have your own jet?” Tony kept his voice low. He could respect the man’s wish for privacy.
“Sure I do, but sometimes I just want to get away from all that bull shit. The entourage. My agent. It all gives me a headache. On good days, I pop a couple of pills and let them take me away. Yet there are times when it all builds up and there’s nothing I can do, but run.” Derek leaned in close to Tony, so close he could see the man’s electric blue eyes peering over the top of the sunglasses. “What do you do for a living? You look like a cowboy.”
“I ride bulls.”
“Mmm…if only that were true, it’d prove there is a benevolent God and he loves country singers.”
Tony looked around him. None of the passengers seemed to be paying attention to them. He moved closer to Derek. “I like bulls better than cows, but since I’ve never heard even a whisper about you, you might want to be careful what you say in public.”
A look passed over Derek’s face and Tony wondered if the singer hated hiding who he was because of his fans. “I know. I’ve been yelled at by everyone around me. If I promise not to out myself to anyone else, will you talk to me about what you do? Treat me like a real person. Not the stud you see dancing on stage in tight jeans and a t-shirt.”
Tony touched Derek’s hand holding on to the armrest between them. “I’d talk to you all day.” He pressed his lips to the man’s ear. “I’ve had a hard-on since I first heard you talk.”
Derek’s eyes widened and he shot a look at Tony’s crotch. “Man, what I wouldn’t do to have a private plane right about now.”
Tony winked, settling back in his seat. “I do ride bulls. I was in Honolulu for the special all-star event.”
“Wow. A gay cowboy? So those stereotypes really do exist.” Derek laughed. “Are you any good?”
“I finished fifth at the Finals this year.” Tony sipped his beer. “Where are you headed?”
“Got a fucking concert in Dallas.” Derek drained his drink and waved for the attendant to get him another one. “I got a two week vacation and then it’s back to work. Not even time off for Thanksgiving. It sucks. I planned on going to Edmund’s house for the holiday, but nope. Have to go entertain the masses.”
“Man, if you don’t like what you’re doing, why are you doing this?” Tony loved riding bulls. He’d already made up his mind that the day he didn’t enjoy it, he’d retire.
“I love to sing. Performing is an unhappy side effect of singing. To be honest, I wouldn’t be so tired of performing if I didn’t have to deal with all the other bullshit.” Derek shrugged. The singer shifted and faced him. “So where are you from? It sounds like Texas to me.”
“I’m originally from Texas. I live in Wyoming now.” He realized they had talked through take-off and the plane had reached cruising altitude.
Their flight attendant brought them another drink and they kept talking.
***
Stepping off the plane, Tony noticed a group of people with disapproving frowns on their faces. Derek squeezed his shoulder.
“Where the hell have you been?” An older man walked up to them, glaring at Tony while gripping Derek’s arm.
“I took a different flight.” Derek shook off the man’s hand and turned to face Tony. “Thanks for making it an interesting ride. I’ll be watching for you when your circuit starts up again.”
Tony ignored the man who must have been Derek’s manager and hugged the singer. “I hope you find some happiness somewhere,” he whispered in the man’s ear.
Derek pulled his sunglasses down so his blue eyes met Tony’s. “Someday I will. It just depends on how much more shit I can take. Thanks.”
Tony didn’t say anything as Derek kissed his cheek.
Have a great Friday.
