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.

Cursing under my breath, I reached for my discarded trousers and pulled the phone from the pocket. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the caller ID. I looked up at Zayn, who was still blinking away the haze of his climax.


"It's your father," I murmured, the weight of the name instantly cooling the heat in the room.


Zayn sat up slowly, his eyes wide and the flush of his climax fading into a startled paleness. "Why is he calling you?" he breathed, his voice trembling.


"I don't know," I said, staring at the flashing screen.


"Pick it up," Zayn commanded, his voice gaining a sudden, sharp edge. "Put it on speaker."


I swiped the screen and cleared my throat. "Hello, sir," I said, keeping my tone respectful but guarded.


Chapter 354 - Chapter 354: Fractured Families, Fragile Souls