Page 26 of Can I Tell You Something?
“What question?”
“About your favourite audio of mine.”
Her breath shudders, only making me more desperate to know. “You want to talk about thisnow?”
“I want to talk about it until I get an answer.”
“Fine,” she huffs, scooting back to lean against the trunk of the tree. “I like your confessions.”
“TheCan I Tell You Something? series?”
“Yes.”
“What do you like about them?” She stares at me, that cute fucking glare, but I can tell she’s dying to say more. I crawl into the space next to her and take a seat, too. “Come on, it’s not often I get to ask a fan straight up for feedback.”
“You dick,” she says, throwing a clump of snow at my chest. “I’m not a fan.”
“Your DMs suggest otherwise.”
“Argh,” she covers her face with her hands. I shouldn’t be pushing this. Getting involved with listeners has never worked out well, but there’s something different about Hannah.
I could have written off my initial attraction to her as thinking with my dick, but when I read those DMs something shifted.
Yes, she was flirty with her feedback, but she was also appreciative and complimentary. Her messages made me feel like she sees me as a person, not just a hot voice to get off to.
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.
“Come here.” I pull her sideways into my lap, and to my relief, she doesn’t resist. “I told you, nothing to be embarrassed about. You can tell me.”
“I guess… I like that they’re real. You’re not playing a part, and there’s a vulnerability there.”
“What else?”
“I enjoy hearing about things you’ve done. Things you want to do.”
“What else?”
“I like hearing you moan.”
“Mmmm.” It’s not deliberate, I can’t help it. She’s making me moan, and she’s not even touching me. “Can I tell you something I want to do?”
“Uh-huh.” She sinks a little lower into me, her forehead dropping to mine. I let the moment linger, fully aware there’s no turning back.
“I really want to kiss you, Hannah. Been wanting to do it since I first laid eyes on you.”
“OK,” she whispers on an exhale.
“OK?”
“Ye—” I cut her off with a tilt of the head, my lips pressed to hers at last. Soft at first, until I feel her kissing me back. I have no restraint when she opens for me, her warm tongue slipping past my lips to meet mine. She’s warm and soft and tastes like heaven. I embarrass myself, getting instantly hard beneath her thigh but when I try to reposition her she shifts more, lifting one leg until she’s sinking down to straddle me and -oh my fuck that feels good.
One hand grips my jacket as she pulls me closer into her, the other cupping the back of my neck, claiming me. I thought she’d be soft and demure, but the way she sucks my bottom lip into her mouth and sinks her teeth into it makes me think I was sorely mistaken about Hannah.
Jesus, I could never write a kiss as good as this.
My hands find her hips, but these fucking gloves are in the way. I pull them off and push my hands up underneath her ski jacket, pulling at her clothes until they meet bare skin. She cries into my mouth as my hands push higher, fingertips meeting the soft swell of her tits under thin lace. I take a firm handful, thumb grazing over her tight nipple and she rolls her hips, throws her head back and —
Above us, there’s a creak, then a crack, a rush of sound and a muffled whomp as the tree we’re huddled under drops a curtain of snow.
