Driven Snow (14 page)

Snow grabbed Riley’s arm with one hand, balanced himself with the other, and pushed as hard as he could.

Pop!

Holy—hell.

His mouth opened and closed. Heat rushed up his cock and seared his balls.

“You’re in. Push.”

He did. His cock slipped farther into the tight, steaming channel that embraced it, soft, silky tissue widening as he plowed through, then tightening around him like a—yes, like a lover.

“Now pull out.”

Whole new experience. More drag than embrace, which stimulated every tiny nerve ending until it tingled, then shrieked with the desire to explode.

“Back in, Snow. Fuck me.”

Whoa. No chance he’d ever expected to hear those words. Maybe the other way around, but this had to be a rare dream. He snapped his hips in and out. Riley mewled like a kitten.
How did I do that?

He pumped again, so fascinated by Riley’s reaction it took a little of the focus off his own throbbing penis. Thank God. He’d never last otherwise. In and out.

“Fuck! That’s great.”

Again.

“Yeah, oh yes. Bull’s-eye.”

Good Lord. Power.
The power to give pleasure. He plunged his dick in deep and pulled it out to the tip, then back in again and again. Flashes of light lit up his brain with each drag on his overstimulated nerves.

“Sweet Jesus, Snow. I’m getting close. So close. Plant your feet and give me your hand.”

Snow struggled to squat without taking his dick out, scooted to either side of Riley’s bobbing butt, curved over his back, bent his knees, and thrust as fast and hard as he could. Saying it felt good won the award for understatement.

He balanced and wrapped a hand around Riley’s hips. That hand got grabbed so fast he nearly toppled. Riley wrapped Snow’s hand around his big dick and then closed his own paw over Snow’s and started pumping. The whole operation took the coordination of a Cirque du Soleil star, but somehow he managed to stay upright.

But oh God.

Riley bucked and pumped under him, making sounds so primal they reached deep into Snow’s most primitive places. His own cock squeezed in volcanic heat, and black spots floated in front of his eyes as flashes of pleasure zinged up his spine and spiked off the end of his dick. Couldn’t be happening. How could anything feel so—amazing?

Riley threw back his head. “Oh, baby.” His bucking stopped, his body went rigid, and hot, wet stickiness filled Snow’s hand.

That warm wetness and the deep, musky smell triggered something in his brain—and his groin.
Holy—OH!

A rocket blazed from his balls into his cock and hit his brain in a blinding flash. Each pump of semen had its own color, its own ecstatic tremble of pleasure. One. Two. Three. How could they keep getting better? His body froze, then shook in wave after wave. His feet quit and his legs crumbled.
Falling. Falling.

Two bodies piled on the couch cushions in a heap of bliss.

Riley murmured something.

Snow raised his head an inch. “Can’t hear you. Heart’s beating too hard.”

“How can a virgin be so great at sex?” Riley chuckled.

“Fast learner.”

“I’ll say. You can give up chess and physics. You’ve found your calling.”

“Then you’ll have to give up football, because I’m only inspired by you.”

Riley chuckled. “They’ll find our emaciated bodies, stuck together, humping like rabbits.”

“What a way to go.”

“I guess it’s now officially later than hell.”

“And you have to play tomorrow.” Snow turned on his side and stared at the shine of Riley’s golden hair—and his shining butt.

“No worries. But there is one rule you need to know.”

“What’s that?”

“He who tops gets the washcloth from the bathroom.”

Tops.
Good God, he was a top. He hopped from the couch. “With pleasure.”

Ten minutes later, he’d cleaned them both up—a pleasure in itself—and lay in the crook of Riley’s right arm. “I hope the professor is alive.” He could barely say those words.

Riley tightened his arm. “Me too, sweetheart.”

“I’ve got to try to get in that house.”

“That could be scary.”

“Yes.”

Five minutes later, Riley’s soft breathing rustled against the cushions. Snow stared at the ceiling.

CHAPTER 13

WHAT? WHERE?
The ringing phone pierced his brain. Snow opened his eyes.
Didn’t I just close them?

Two facts. He was not on the floor in his apartment. A big, warm body snuggled next to him. Oh yes, and the phone was ringing in his pajama pants, which were somewhere he couldn’t immediately identify.

“Umpff. Your phone?”

I’m on the couch with Riley Prince.

Duh.

Wow.

The phone quit, but Snow’s heart took up the hammering.

Riley’s lips grazed his ear. “Morning.”

Snow smiled, warm and liquid.
Oh yes, I so remember.
“Morning.”

“Your phone was ringing.”

“I couldn’t find it.”

Riley chuckled. “You threw those pants so far I’m surprised they landed already.”

“I was in a bit of a hurry.”

Riley nibbled under his ear. “Sadly, speaking of hurrying, I better get up and power over to the stadium. You gonna come watch me play?”

“I—” The pants started ringing again. “I better answer. It could be about the professor.” Snow leaped from the bed, located his pajamas, and fished in the pocket. “Hello.”

“Is this Snowden Reynaldi?”

“Yes, yes it is.”

“Grandmaster Reynaldi, this is Eleanor Turks from the Anderson International Chess Tournament.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.” Thank God. Not bad news about the professor.

“I received an e-mail from a Mrs. Kingsley informing us of Professor Kingsley’s illness.”

Odd.
“Yes, ma’am. He’s very sick.”

“I’m so very sorry to hear it. She told us that you are much too upset to compete and wish to withdraw from the competition.”

“What? Withdraw?” He sank onto the floor, and Riley leaned off the edge of the couch, staring at him.

Riley mouthed, “Everything okay?”

Snow frowned and shrugged.

“Yes, that’s what she said. But I’m calling you because I certainly wanted to be sure that it’s your intention to withdraw. After all, it will change the nature of the contest considerably. I’m sure there are many players who would be delighted to hear that they don’t have to beat Snowden Reynaldi in order to win. And a lot of spectators who won’t bother to come if you’re not playing.” She gave a tight laugh. “I take it from your reaction that you may not have known this e-mail was sent?”

“Uh, no, ma’am. Mrs. Kingsley is a newlywed and, of course, is herself very upset. She doesn’t know me well, so she might have assumed my reaction. In fact, I know for certain that the thing Professor Kingsley would want most is for me to compete. I wouldn’t consider withdrawing.”

“Ah, there’s the Snowden Reynaldi I know. Good show, young man. We’re proud of you. I’ll disregard this e-mail and expect to see you at the tournament in a few weeks.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”

“Brilliant. My best wishes for the professor’s rapid recovery.”

“Thank you.” He clicked the phone and stared at Riley. “She told them I was withdrawing from the championships.”

“Without even asking you?”

“Yes.”

“What the hell is she thinking?”

“I’m not sure, but she’s a chess player too. I wonder if she’s entered?”

“That would be good to know.” Riley sat up, looking yummy in his taut, shiny golden skin.

“I think I need to go over to the professor’s house. If she’s there, I can ask about this. If not, I’ll go in and look for something the professor might have taken that could put him in a coma.”

Riley frowned. “I don’t want you to go without me. It might not be safe.”

Snow smiled. “I kind of doubt she’s going to attack me or anything. She’s probably got some good excuse for trying to pull me out. I’ll pretend to believe it.”

“Can’t you wait until after the game?”

“I have to get to the hospital as soon as I can. If I can find something that might help him, that would be best. I’m so sorry to miss your game.”

Riley wrapped an arm around Snow’s neck. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around Riley’s neck and snuggled, trying to ignore the rise of his overanxious penis. Grinning, he looked down. “We’ll get to you later.”

Riley patted the head of Snow’s cock. “That’s a promise.” He walked toward the bathroom. “I’ll drive you.”

A half hour later, Snow stared out the car window as Riley pulled to the curb a block from Professor Kingsley’s house. “This is good. I’ll walk from here.”

“How will you get to the hospital?”

“My bike’s at the physics building.”

“Okay. But will you call me as soon as you get there and leave me a message so I don’t go crazy?”

“Yes. As soon as I get there.”

Riley took Snow’s hand. “Be careful.”

“Have a good game.” Nerves jumping, he slid out of Riley’s old car, waved, and started walking toward the beautiful old traditional home the professor lived in. Snow swallowed. Or used to live in. No cars on the street in front of the house.

He cut down the side of the neighbor’s to check out the professor’s garage, located just behind his home at the end of a long driveway. His classic Mercedes was gone, but an old, battered American car with chipped green paint sat outside the garage. Was that Anitra’s? He’d never seen it before. He stared at the side door to the house. The one that led into the kitchen.
Here goes.

He walked up the steps, took a deep breath, and knocked softly.
Don’t be there. Don’t be there.

Quiet. Nothing.

He rapped again for good measure and then stuck his hand in his pocket for his key to the professor’s house. As he drew it out, the door flew open, and Anitra stared out at him. Her red hair flew wildly around her face, lipstick smeared her cheek, and she gathered a floral kimono around her. “Oh, oh dear.”

Snow stepped back, almost fell off the step, grabbed the rail, and managed to right himself. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t sure if you were here.” He took his hand from his pocket.

“Yes, well, obviously I am. I came home for a quick nap and must have fallen more deeply asleep than I expected.”

“I, uh, was on my way to get my bicycle and thought I’d stop to see if you had an update on the professor.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Nothing hopeful, I’m afraid. He’s still unconscious.”

“I just wondered if there was a chance he could have taken some medication that would cause a reaction.”

She frowned. “That was the first thing the doctors asked.”

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it would be.” He stared at his tennis shoes. “Uh, I got a call this morning from the Anderson Tournament. They said you sent an e-mail withdrawing me from the competition.”

“Oh. Well, I assumed you wouldn’t be up to such a rigorous trial after this horrible shock.”

“No.”

She smiled. “Good, I don’t want you overdoing.”

“Excuse me, I meant no, I would never withdraw. The professor worked so hard to prepare me for the competition. I’d never let him down. I’ll go through with it no matter what.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Even if he dies?”

Tears flashed to Snow’s eyes, and he blinked. “Yes, even then.”

“I see. I had underestimated….” She trailed off. “Why don’t you come in?”

“I really want to get to the hospital.”

“Yes, well, I’ll drive you. Or rather my, uh, cousin will.”

“Cousin?”

“Yes. He just arrived when he heard of my challenges and heartbreak.” She brushed her mane of scarlet hair back. “He’s here to help, so he can drive you in his car, and I’ll join you later. After I have, uh, some meetings I can’t escape.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.” He backed away, teetered on the edge of the step again, and she reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Nonsense. No trouble. We’re all family here.” She pulled him into the kitchen.

Everything felt familiar—the shining appliances, butcher-block counters, neat line of spices—except the oddly musky odor and some knives usually on the large cutting block now lying on the floor.

“Hunter.”

Snow looked up at her call and stared at the arched opening into the dining room as if it were the portal of hell. Through it marched a tall, rugged, and very handsome man with a sharp goatee and dark brown hair to his shoulders—just a little shorter than Snow’s hair.

The guy looked as startled as Snow, with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.

Anitra pulled Snow a step forward. “Dear, I’ve told you about my friend and student, Snowden. You know, the chess master?”

“Of course.” He held out his hand, and Snow submerged his in it. Hunter held his hand more like a caress than a handshake and smiled. “You never described him. I was just startled at his beauty.”

One of her carefully plucked eyebrows rose. “I want you to take Snow to the hospital and see if you can’t get those infernal people to actually speak to him and perhaps let him see Harold.”

Snow’s breath caught. “Oh, can you really do that? I want to see him so badly.”

“Well, if Hunter can’t persuade them, I’m sure I can.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the living room. “Please come in and sit down, Snow. I was just installing Hunter in his room since—” She looked up at Hunter with a direct stare. “—he just arrived. Let us get him unpacked, and then he’ll drive you. And speak to the doctors, of course. Come, Hunter.” She flicked her fingers toward the stairs and then walked to them with Hunter following.

Think fast.
“May I get a glass of water, Mrs. Kingsley?”

She glanced back from halfway up the stairs. “Oh, of course, dear.”

He waited until they were out of sight, then hurried to the kitchen. He took down a glass, filled it from the refrigerator water filter, drank a couple of swallows, and set the glass down. Very quietly, he opened the vitamin drawer and riffled through. Just the usual—men’s multi, some vitamin C, echinacea, and fish oil. A prescription bottle of medicine for erectile dysfunction stopped Snow. Could that give you a heart attack? He’d look it up later. He closed the drawer and peered into several cabinets, including the spices. Nothing unexpected.