Can I Tell You Something? (Snowbound Secrets, #1)

by Holly June Smith

Gin, however, that I certainly will need if I’m to survive two weeks alone with parents who will only want to talk about my career plans and lack of relationship status.

The truth is, I have deep-rooted trust issues. That and I’m already in all-consuming love with a man who lives on the other side of the world, has no idea I exist, and makes me come multiple times a night.

And if I want him, as I often do, all I have to do is push in my earbuds, and there he is, ready to whisper the most delicious filth straight into my ears.

You see, the man of my dreams is American audio erotica voice ...

Obviously, I’ve been wondering if I’m about to be shacked up with a forbidden cutie for two weeks. It’s got romance novel written all over it, and I know for a fact my listeners would go nuts for a story like that.

Why would you bother with a real man when you could have an audio one talk you through pretty much any fantasy scenario you can think of?

The closest thing I can compare it to is someone ringing me for top tier phone sex, calling me a good girl, and then shushing me to sleep. It’s practically a meditation exercise at this point.

I’m not deluded, except I am a little bit deluded because I want him so much.

“So, Hannah,” Cameron says, leaning closer. “What time do you want me?”

I don’t know what switch flipped, what threw the earth off its axis, what I’ve done to deserve this karma. All I know is that I’m teaching the man who’s made me come more times than I can count to ski in the morning, and he has no idea who I am.

She has the kind of thighs you want to use for a pillow. Eyes you want to get lost in, soft dark hair that looks perfect for stroking while you hold her tight.

My best friend may not follow my audio erotica voice acting account, but his sister does.

I’ve listened to this man come so many times it’s rewired my brain.

He could talk to me about sinkholes and drainage systems and I’d probably get turned on.

how the fuck do you delete DMs?—then I watch in horror as a four letter word appears at the bottom of my screen. Seen.

She’s not pissed at me, she’s in shock. She would never in a million years have imagined I’d turn up here at her house. I now know three things. Hannah knows exactly who I am. She’s got a dirty, dirty mouth. And my one rule is about to be pushed to the limit.

My eyes snap upwards and lock with his. So beautiful. Grey green with flecks of gold. I’ve never seen eyes like them. He dips his head and lowers his voice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Will you be patient with me if I suck?” His face is casual but his voice is low and slow, taunting. “Or are you a bossy teacher?”

In my dreams he’d start at breakfast, with oral on the kitchen counter, then stop right before I came and tell me it’s time to go shop for groceries. In the car he’d tell me to touch myself on the drive but ‘don’t you dare come. If you come, I’ll fuck you where everyone can see who your orgasms belong to.’

“Wait.” Cameron grabs my wrist and pulls me back towards him. “One last question. I’m dying to know.” Hours pass as I wait for him to stop staring at my mouth and ask what he is apparently so desperate to find out about me. “What do you like to listen to?”

“What do you like to fill your ears with when you’re alone at night, Hannah?”

I’m tempted to save my number under Mac just to really get under her skin, but the poor woman might spontaneously combust or burst into tears.

I want to pull her even closer, lift her chin, and drop my mouth to hers. I want to know what she tastes like, what her hair smells like, whether she would make a noise if I tugged on one of those pretty braids.

“You comfy there?” What I really want to say is ‘Can I come and sit in your lap and kiss your face and feel you get hard underneath me?’ but I’m not completely out of my mind.

Not only did I listen to him get himself off, but I listened as he described, in exquisite detail, all the things he’d like to do to his holiday housemate. The housemate who happens to be me.

I knew when he described my braids, and how much he wanted to wrap them around his fists as he pulled me down onto his cock. And honestly? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that information?

“Morning, Hannah.” “Good morning, Cameron.” “Did you sleep well?” he asks, a broad, knowing grin stretched across his face. “Yes, thank you.” I hope he barely slept a wink, the cheeky fucker. “I listened to some music, woke up super relaxed.” “Oh, that’s nice,” he cocks his head to one side, eyes on me. “What did you listen to?” “I don’t think you’d have heard of it.” I take a slow sip of my coffee and refuse to look away. “I have pretty varied tastes.” “It’s kind of niche.” “Try me.”

“Hey,” Cameron snaps at him. “Watch your mouth, bro. Nothing wrong with a bit of Taylor.”

“One does not simply have a favourite Taylor Swift song. It changes day by day and mood by mood.”

“Do you have a favourite audio of mine?” Oops. There goes my resistance.

“I particularly enjoyed the ones about how hard you came.” My dick twitches in my ski pants at the memory of her words. ‘You’re a menace. You made me come in under a minute and I had to pause the rest of the audio to recover.’

“What would you prefer I call you?” He leans in closer, the bass of the music, the chatter of the crowd all blending into one as he whispers inches from my face. “Baby? Darling? Good girl? Greedy little slut?”

I’m throwing myself down a goddamn mountain for this woman, but the way she’s looked after me the past couple of days, I couldn’t feel safer. She’s got me breaking my rules, and I can’t seem to stop myself.

“I really want to kiss you, Hannah. Been wanting to do it since I first laid eyes on you.”

“What’s the plan for today, then?” Dad asks from across the breakfast table where we’ve mostly eaten in silence. Personally, my plan is to try to keep my shit together and not mount Cameron every chance I get.

“You talked about sleeping with a fan in that audio.” “Those audios aren’t real. They’re stories. I make them up. That’s a fantasy lots of my listeners have, and I like to make content that fulfils those desires, but that’s all it is, a fantasy.

“I mean it,” he says, grabbing my hand and holding it there. “I haven’t even slept with anyone in over six months.” “Oh. Well, that’s… not that long.” “How long has it been for you?” he asks. “Um, a year. Maybe more.” He huffs out a heavy sigh. “That makes me so fucking mad. And also happy.” “What?” “Happy that nobody else is touching you. Mad because your body is gorgeous. It deserves to be touched and worshipped and adored.” “You haven’t even seen my body,” I laugh nervously. Cameron slips his gloved hand between my thighs and tugs me closer. “I’ve felt it, and I can’t wait to feel more. And if you haven’t been touched in that long, I bet you’ll be so needy for me.”

My mouth tightens into a pout as I try not to smile. “The thing is, you’re not like other girls, Hannah,” he says, then cringes. “Sorry, that’s such a gross line.

“And hey, the scenarios are made up, but the moves are all mine. I promise I’ll take good care of you.” Ohhh.

“Want to make a new rule?” “Depends on the rule.” “Last one to the bottom gets a kiss?” “Deal.” I stamp my ski poles into the snow, fold my arms across my chest, refusing to budge an inch. “You’re not even gonna make me work for it?” he laughs. “Nope.”

“I want to do all kinds of things with you, but not here. Can we make that happen somehow?” “I don’t know,” I sigh, dropping my forehead to his chest. “Someone is always around at the chalet.” He strokes my hair and sighs, too. “Fuck. I’m starving for you.”

“Oh yeah, the nineties were something else, kid. I tell you what, though. You can have a holiday romance,” he says, throwing the world’s biggest bag of potato chips into the trolley. “But don’t ever let me catch you at a rave.”

‘Look at you, dirty girl, getting your needy pussy eaten. Ride my face, don’t be shy, I can take it.’

Not that I’m complaining. Only a fool would complain about the kind of orgasms that shift your entire soul out of alignment.

Two years of aural foreplay have led to this moment, and I know now I’ll never be the same.

“Anyone for sauna?” Hannah suggests after a while. “Sure, let’s go,” Ryan says. No, not you, man. Fuck off for five minutes.

“Your bikini is driving me fucking nuts.” “I thought you might like it.” Her eyes lock with mine as she pushes her breasts out and leans back, palms flat against the wood. “You wear that to torture me?” “Maybe,” she shrugs. “Consider me well and truly tortured.” “Show me your cock.” “Hannah Richmond. You naughty fucking girl.” I push the waistband of my swim shorts down, revealing myself to her, now fully erect. Hannah hops down from the top bench, perches opposite me, then bends forward to take a lick from root to tip, lapping at the moisture there. “Yum,” she says, leaning back and licking her lips. So much for being shy.

I should be able to hold her hand whenever I like, stroke her cheek and tell her what she’s doing to me. I should be able to wrap a protective arm around her shoulder, hold her close to my chest, and rest my chin on the top of her head while she watches the parade.

I quietly slip my gloved hand into Hannah’s, and she leans into my side, discreet in the throng of people. This is how it should be. Me and my girl.

“Never too old for Christmas magic, my darlings.