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.

We arrived at the hotel, and immediately, the air felt different. Even in the car park, there was a noticeable number of luxury sedans and security detail, indicating that many attendees for the launch—or at least high-profile guests, were already here.


I stepped out of the car first and instinctively reached for Zayn's hand. As we were about to walk through the lobby to check in, he gently removed his hand from mine. I didn't see it as a big deal; he was probably nervous about the public setting.


We walked to the elevator with my driver carrying our bags. I took Zayn's hand again, and I enjoyed the brief, contained silence of the ride. But as we neared our floor and were about to step outside the elevator, Zayn gently removed his hand from mine again. This time, I raised an eyebrow, a question forming on my lips, but before I could comment, the doors opened.


I was only a few steps from the room Karl booked when a voice called out behind me.


Chapter 214 - Chapter 214: His Older Brother, My Husband