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.

I took a shaky breath, preparing to launch the words that would either save us or destroy us.


"Babe, listen to me..." I started, my voice cracking. "I—"


My sentence was cut short when my phone suddenly rang. Seeing Evans's name on the screen snapped me out of my thoughts, dragging me back from my confession and straight into the crisis.


"I'm so sorry, baby," I whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "It's Evans—I need to take this call. I'll be right back, okay?"


Zayn, his eyes already heavy with fatigue, nodded. "Okay, baby."


I rushed out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. I immediately answered, my voice tense. "Evans! Did you find anything? Is it fake?"


"Evric, calm down," Evans said immediately, hearing the panic in my voice. "The news isn't what we wanted. The trace we ran on the video file returned an error. It keeps saying the file is corrupted or its headers are masked. We can't detect if it's real or fake."


Chapter 233 - Chapter 233: The Confession That Never Came