T. A. Chase

Wednesday Work in Progress…

Thought I’d give you another peek at Teivel and To Hell With the Devil. 🙂 Re-reading this really makes me want to finish it…lol. Have to figure out how to fit it into my schedule to get done.

To Hell With the Devil copyright 2013 c. T.A. Chase

Excerpt:

I shift on the hard seat of the horrific throne I was led to after I killed the devil.  I really need to get a grip on my temper because killing Achan had to have been the worst mistake of my entire stupid life. Now I’m surrounded by demons, imps and other denizens of hell. All of whom expect me to tell them what to do.

I sigh and rest my elbow on the arm of the throne, propping my chin on my palm.  Achan had seriously bad taste in furniture.  My new seat of power is made from human bones with skulls acting as feet for it. Sick twisted bastard.

My ass grows numb. I feel it spreading and flattening. Hell no. I might be stuck in this psychotic asylum, but I won’t let my body go to seed.  I’m brooding about how to get a gym down here when something tugs on my pant leg.

I stare down in astonished fascination at the horned toad talking to me. Who the hell knew toads grew to that size? It stands on two feet and its large gelatinous lips flap at me for a minute. I can’t understand a fucking word it says.

“What,” I ask as it stares at me with what I suppose is a look of anticipation.

Spit lands on my face when it speaks again. Wiping it off my cheek with disgust, I shake my head.

“I have no clue what you’re saying.” Looking around the room at the other hellish host, I point to the toad. “Do any of you have a fucking idea what he might be saying?”

Feet, hooves and claws shuffle. No one meets my gaze.  Damn my temper. I killed the only person who could have told me what I needed to know.

“Master, I might be of assistance.”

A high squeaky voice grates on my nerves and makes me grit my teeth.

“Not if you continue to talk like that you won’t.  Like fingernails on a chalkboard.” I feel a brush on my shoulder.  Nothing’s there. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m beside you, Master, but I’m merely a spirit and have no corporal body.” The shrillness of the voice has been tempered to a level I can tolerate. “You simply need to touch the imp and take his language into your head.”

“Simply? Of course, why didn’t I think of that?”

“Maybe you should have thought about your actions before you killed Achan, Master.”  There’s a hint of sarcasm in the disembodied voice.

Great. My assistant is a freaking comedian.

“No shit, Sherlock.  Just so you know, I don’t think before I act and I never apologize.  Understand those two things about me and we’ll be best friends.”  I grimace, reach out to lay the tip of one finger on the toad’s head.  “Is there a spell I need to intone or anything like that?”

“This isn’t a fantasy movie.  You think about what you want and it shall be given to you.”

“I want an overstuffed arm chair in a nice shade of periwinkle blue. One of my best colors.  This stupid throne is going to give me middle age spread and I’m not even in my late twenties yet.”

Swoosh. My ass sinks into the cushion of a blue armchair.  I grin. “This is more like it.” Wrinkling my nose, I touch the toad again. “I want to understand what this thing is saying to me.”

My head wants to explode.  Too much information appears in my brain. Jerking away from the toad, I fist my hands in my hair and moan.  Taking deep breaths, I calm down enough to get a grip on the words tumbling around in my head.  When I no longer want to cry out from the pressure, I sit back and stare at the toad.

“All right, Jeremiah, what do you want?”

The toad’s enormous cranium tilts like it’s puzzled by what I say.  “Who’s this Jeremiah?”

“He’s a bull frog.” I wave a hand. “Never mind.  What do you want?”

“I’m not a bull frog. I’m an imp.  I wonder if you would be willing to lift the curse on me.” A webbed appendage flaps at me.

“What did he do?” I lean closer to where I assume the spirit still hovers.

“He broke Achan’s favorite glass. It was the one he got at Disney World. It had Mickey Mouse on it.” The spirit’s voice seems to shrug. “He was unnaturally attached to that glass.”

“That’s fucked up.  Turning some guy into a horned toad for breaking a glass.”

“Yes. Well, it wasn’t really the breaking part that pushed Achan over the edge. It was more the trying to slit his throat with a shard of it part.”

I squint at the toad.  Its innocent expression doesn’t fool me.  “I think you need to stay in that form for a while.  Teach you not to mess with the master of hell, no matter who he is.”

I reach out and grip his slimy wrist in my hand, jerking the imp as close as I could stand him to be without passing out from his foul smell. “If it ever crosses your mind to try and kill me, be aware that I’ll simply kill you, not turn you into a toad.”

With a causal toss, I fling the imp across the room. Splat goes the toad, I think. A long suffering sigh issues from the non-existent person beside me. I glare at the spot where I think it stands.

Filed under: Excerpts,To Hell with The Devil,Wednesday WiPs,writing | |5 Comments

Wednesday Work in Progress…

Hmm….I was trying to figure out what I could post here today. I’m in the middle of working on a  Tiffany story, so I don’t really want to post it here. Here is a snippet from To Hell With the Devil. I might have shared something from this story before, but I thought I’d give you the opening scene. 🙂 I like Teivel very  much. He’s snarky and a complete smart ass. He gets cranky when he realizes he’s the new Devil since he killed the old one. 🙂

To Hell with the Devil copyright c.2013 T.A. Chase

Excerpt:

The throbbing beat of the music take over my body and drive me into a deeper trance. I love the dark sounds of the drums and the sexy murmurs of the singer, but the words disappear as I dance.  I don’t know if others watched me or not and in that moment of time, I don’t care.  I didn’t come to the club to get fucked, at least not tonight. I came to dance and wipe out the shitty day I had.  Tight leather pants, dark boots and see-through mesh shirt display my body to anyone who wants to look.

My eyes close, so I don’t see the man approach, but his heat surrounds my body as the stranger encircles my waist with his arm and tugs my ass back into his groin. A low moan rips from my throat at the feel of the large cock rubbing against my crease. Tilting my hips, I move to the music and beg like a slut for more.

Sharp teeth nip my ear and hot breath surrounds it.  “My name is Achan. I’ll make you come here, then when I get home, I’ll fuck you to death.”

A thrill of fear races through me as I laugh nervously, knowing the man is just joking, but Achan’s animal growl turns me on until I ache with need. I want one of those large hands on my cock and long for Achan to bury his prick in my ass.  The stranger slides his hand forward, then unbuttons my pants.

The music grows louder and faster. The rhythm takes over my heartbeat and my blood pulses to the beat. Sharp teeth scrape over my neck, causing me to lean my head back onto one of Achan’s broad shoulders.

“Not here.”

My weak protest makes Achan chuckle because we both know I don’t mean it.

The slightly cooler air of the club warm hot flesh as my cock springs free from its tight leather prison.  Achan shoves his left hand pushes up under my shirt, finding the gold rings in my nipples.  A hard tug brings a soft cry from me. Pain spirals from my chest down to where Achan’s right hand grips my cock and strokes.

Achan’s touch burns as his dry skin rasps harshly up and down my shaft.  Not even the pre-cum leaking from my cock eases his hold on me.  Each stroke and twist drives me closer to the edge.  Pleasure mingles with pain and my climax builds, pooling at the base of my spine.

Searing pain hits me as Achan sinks his teeth into the flesh at my shoulder and I cry out, coming violently. My cum coats Achan’s hand and the floor in front of me. Wilting, I stand only because Achan holds me.  His semen-coated fingers press against my lips. I lick my own spunk off Achan’s hand, humming at the salty bitterness dancing on my tongue.

Something wet trails down my chest and I glance awkwardly at my shoulder.  Achan has broken the skin and blood leaks from the bite. Whirling around, I stare up at Achan.  The swirling lights give his eyes an odd red glow.  He is five inches taller than my five-nine and built like a Greek god.

Ugh! I hate thinking in clichés, but there is no other way to describe him. Blond hair waves to wide shoulders and a muscled chest tapers down to a narrow waist, leading to thick thighs covered in white leather. My gaze trace over Achan’s body and land on the bulge at his groin.  A groan forces its way from my mouth and I wet my lips.  I’d sell my soul to taste what Achan hides behind those pants.

“You’ve already sold your soul.” His cruel grin scare me a little.  “Come with me.”

My brain screams at me not to go.  Foolish to leave with a stranger.  There are psychos everywhere.  My body craves what Achan has with singular passion. I’ve had sex with strangers before in worse areas of the city than this.  Self-preservation means nothing to me when I have a chance to ride a man like Achan.

I pause long enough to tuck my soft dick back into my pants and fasten them. He holds out a rough hand. I take it with the feeling that when we leave the club, my life will never be the same.  I give myself a mental shake.  Silly fag.  No kind of sex is life-changing.

“First, we must have a drink.” He gestures to a table where two glasses sit with a bottle of some liquor.

I shake my head.  I don’t drink as a general rule.  Too easy to lose your head and forget shit.

“A small drink. Then I’ll take you home and show you untold pleasures.”

His deep voice rubs over my skin and my cock twitches in interest.  I am such a slut. I want to feel him inside me and will do anything to have that. I grab the glass he holds out to me and swig the liquid down.  It burns.

“Fuck, what is that?”  I cough.

A large finger presses against my lips and he shakes his head. “No talking.”

Is he serious?  I shoot him an incredulous look. No way can I make it through the whole sex thing without saying something. Hell, my mom swore I talked the minute I came out of the womb.

He gets blurry and I blink. What the fuck?  Alcohol doesn’t usually affect me that quickly. I stagger, reaching out to grab a hold of something.  He catches me with ease, lifting me in his arms. As my vision fades, I see a flash of madness in his eyes and I realize I picked the wrong night to come to the club.

Filed under: Excerpts,To Hell with The Devil,Wednesday WiPs,writing | |2 Comments