They say the body has memory.

I didn’t believe that until I started waking up soaked in sweat and c*m, my heart racing, my fingers trembling, my lips parted as if I’d been whispering his name in sleep.

But I never even knew his real name.

I remember his voice though, how it curled around me like smoke, soft and deep, commanding yet kind, dark and dangerous.

He never touched me. Never laid a hand on me. But I came so hard, I cried.

Now, every night, I crave it. That voice. That whisper that made my knees weak. That sin I never thought I’d want.

I thought I was straight. Now, I’m not even sure I’m sane.

And I think I’d ruin myself just to hear it again.

For 25 years, Zayn lived in a world of straight expectations, dating girls, chasing pleasure that always ended in silence and frustration. Sex was a routine, not release. Until one bored night, chasing a thrill, he said yes to something different.

A man in a club offered him more than money, he offered a secret, a night of satisfaction like he’d never known. But when Zayn entered that hotel room, he didn’t expect him, the rich, cold, dangerously alluring heir of a conservative empire, whose father publicly condemns everything he hides in the dark.

What started as a one-night experiment turned into a dangerous addiction. Without a single touch, Zayn was broken open, undone, and made to scream, cry, and beg, only through sound.

Now, even back home, Zayn trembles when he hears his voice in dreams, in memory, in madness. His sheets are always wet. His nights are restless. His body wants more.

And the worst part?

He's starting to want him, too.


18+ WARNING 
This story contains explicit male-male content, intense erotic scenes, and psychological seduction.
If you're not ready for a world where a voice can break you, proceed cautiously.

Read at your discretion.

"You can't say no," he murmured, his voice husky, "when you already said yes."


Before I could process the words or struggle, he grabbed my hand and, with surprising strength, pinned me to the wall beside the entry to the specialized room. The cold, hard surface pressed against my back.


I started shaking, the sight of the ropes and harnesses flashing behind my eyes. "You are not going to rape me, are you?" The question was barely a whisper, thick with fear.


He looked down at me and scoffed—without anger, just pure disbelief. "Rape you? Nan, that's not who I am." He let go of my wrist but kept his arms braced against the wall on either side of me, boxing me in gently. "Breathe. I need you to calm down."


"How do you expect me to calm down, Evans?" I exclaimed, my voice tight. "Do you even understand how I'm feeling right now? You just showed me a room full of shackles!"


Chapter 302 - Chapter 302: His Darkest Side, My Brightest Truth