Snow and Mistletoe

I’ve grown my business, and now I have a wait list of authors wanting my services. I take one of their books and help match them up with the perfect reader. Normally, I tweak them when necessary, but otherwise, I make the match for them and move on to the next.

Until Noelle.

The first time I heard her audition, I was looking for a female voice for one of my clients’ spy thrillers. She submitted her resumé, and I sent her a voice sample, wanting to see if she would fit his needs. The sample I sent her was completely tame, just a chapter about the heroine’s research on the case. But every tone in Noelle’s voice made my cock hard. It sounded as if she was speaking directly to me, and it sent vibrations through my bones. The most unassuming chapter she could have ever read came alive with emotions I never knew were possible.

That day I hired her on and started using her for all the female parts I needed. After a while, though, I needed more. I had to have something deeper from Noelle.

I started scouring romance authors who had audiobook needs, and I picked up a few clients. I would pore over books until I found the sweetest, dirtiest ones possible and save specific sections for her to read. I turned all my attention to this side of the business, focusing on Noelle and her voice work in romance. My own selfish needs taking over, and consuming me.

I would record her reading to me over the phone so I could play it back again every night before I went to bed, always being too worked up during her live reading to fully take in every detail of her words. I find that when I play it back at night, I can hear so much more than what she’s reading; I can hear her sensual melody as I fall asleep.

After the first time I had her read a romance book, I found myself unable to send it to the author. Instead, I used someone else for the audiobook. I couldn’t bring myself to share Noelle’s voice with anyone else, and I know that was crazy. I’ve been paying her to record audiobooks for months, but I’ve never sent any of her work to an author, instead paying her out of my own money and using another reader for the job.

I’d made plenty of money in my life so that if I never worked again and only paid Noelle to read to me, she could until the end of time and I wouldn’t be hurting for the cash. As it is, I’ve pretty much stopped taking all jobs unless they revolve around Noelle and her voice.

The best part of my day is picking up the phone to call her. I get hard before I even dial the number. She sent her picture with her online resumé, and I’m just sad enough to admit that I printed it out and it’s on my desk. I look at it as she reads to me over the phone and I slowly stroke myself.

Even after she’s finished getting me off, and I sit there, trying to catch my breath, just hearing her go on about her day and life makes me the happiest man in the world. What I wouldn’t give to touch her.

Shutting down that thought, I stand up and throw the cum-covered tissue away and button up my jeans. I walk out back, grabbing the axe on the back porch, and go to chop some wood. It will help keep my mind busy while I try not to think about things I can’t have.

Noelle is utterly beautiful, with big brown eyes and wavy light-brown hair. Her full lips are smiling in the photo she sent me, her cheeks rosy with life. From what she’s told me, she only lives about three hours from where I am, but she doesn’t know that. She just happened to tell me the town she was living in one day, and I looked it up. I also know she’s single, and I clench my jaw at the thought. How could anyone see her and hear her voice and not want to scoop her up? At the same time, the thought makes me angry as I picture someone else getting to have her.

Bringing the axe down on the wood, I watch as it splinters in two. I let out a long sigh and wish for the millionth time that I’d seen that car coming. If I was whole and man enough to sweep Noelle off her feet, I’d get in my truck and drive the three hours to knock on her door and ask her out on a date. She’s so perfect, and she deserves the best. Not half a man who has little kids staring at him at the supermarket.

I guess I’ll just have to settle for jerking off to her voice for the rest of my life. It’s not exactly what I want, but a part of her is better than nothing. And if she never finds out, then what’s the harm? I can have my own perfect fantasy in my head, where she’s mine and I’m whole.

Ignoring my loneliness, I undertake the task of chopping more wood, adding to the mountain I already have. Winter in Montana is no joke, but my house is pretty well stocked. I’ve got power from the town that’s pretty close and a fireplace in my bedroom, just in case. There’s also a wood stove in the kitchen for cooking when I feel the need, but as long as I’ve got power, I don’t use it. The cabin is pretty roomy for one person, with a living room and kitchen all together. There’s a master bedroom downstairs with an attached bath and two rooms upstairs with a bathroom in between. I use one for my office and one is a spare bedroom, though I’ve never needed it. The place was furnished when I bought it, and I just left it alone.