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.

"Harder," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Evans, please."


 I was lost in the sensation, the way he filled me, the way he looked at me like I was his entire world. It was raw, erotic, and overwhelming, a reclamation of everything we had almost lost.


But I could feel him holding back. His thrusts were shallow, his grip hesitant, as if he were terrified I might shatter if he exerted too much force. I leaned down, my sweat dripping onto his chest, and whispered against his ear, "Be yourself, Evans. Stop being so careful. I won't complain, it's what I want. I want to satisfy you."


Hearing that, Evans let out a low, shaky breath. He gripped my waist and pulled himself out of me, the sudden absence of his warmth making me gasp. He stood up from the bed, moving to the edge where he stood over me, his silhouette tall and powerful in the dim light of the room.


Chapter 376 - Chapter 376: The Strength to Hold On