Who would’ve thought that the night I was about to surrender to nothing but a voice... it would belong to Evric Draeven? Not just anyone but him. The billionaire’s son. The one whose father preaches purity, tradition, and the sanctity of the family name. The one no one would ever dare suspect. And now... the one I can’t get out of my system. SLEEK PEEK The room swallowed me. The lights. Clean sheets. Velvet walls. And him, already shrugging off his jacket, revealing a toned, lean frame in a black silk shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show skin I wanted to taste without understanding why. But before I could step closer, he said something that made my body stiffen. "I won’t touch you. But my voice will." ZAYN’S POV THE BEGINNING: The bass pounded. Bodies moved like shadows under flickering red lights. Sweat, perfume, and the bitter edge of vodka clung to the air. I sat back against the leather booth, bored out of my fucking mind. Another drink. Another night. Another pretty girl giggling against my shoulder, fingers tracing lazy circles on my thigh. I didn’t even bother to look at her face. My eyes drifted to the dance floor, watching couples grind against each other like they were starving. But to me, it all felt... empty. Like watching a movie on mute. Is this it? Is this all sex is ever going to be? I’d slept with enough women to know how it went. The pattern, the routine, kiss, touch, moan... but nothing ever satisfied me. I wanted to feel something. Wanted to lose control. Wanted to scream, not out of pain, but from release. Then I heard... "Hello?" I looked up. A tall man stood by the edge of my booth. Sharp suit, cold eyes, polite smile. Too old to be a clubgoer. "I’m not buying anything," I muttered. He shook his head. "I was sent by someone. He’s interested in you." I blinked. "He?" "He’ll pay you well. Discreet, private room. No expectations. Just your time." I scoffed. "You think I need money?" "No," he said calmly. "He thinks you need satisfaction." That shut me up. Satisfaction. The word burned. I leaned forward, voice low. "What exactly does he want?" The man smiled slightly. "To show you a different kind of release. One you’ve never had." Something about the way he said it made my skin crawl, but not in a bad way. "...He’s a man," I said flatly. "Yes." I stared into the distance for a moment, pulse tapping in my throat. I didn’t know how to feel. Not fear. Not disgust. Just... curiosity. I looked at the girl next to me. Still smiling, touching. I felt nothing. I stood up. "Take me to him." The hallway of the hotel was silent, carpeted, and cold. The air smelled expensive like white lilies and secrets. The man stopped in front of a black door. "Before you go in... understand this." I raised a brow. "You don’t kiss and tell. Ever. If anything leaks, it won’t end well for you." I smirked. "Relax. I’m not a gossip." I reached for the door, heart strangely calm. It wasn’t about being gay or not. It wasn’t about identity. I just wanted to feel something real. Even if it was only for a night. The door clicked open. Soft lighting. Shadows. A faint scent of leather and spice in the air. And there he was. Seated in an armchair, legs crossed, watching me. He was beautiful in a dangerous way. Pretty, gentle, and sharp jaw. Loose black shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to expose veined forearms. Eyes that didn’t blink. I stepped in. The door clicked shut behind me. He didn’t stand. He only said one thing. "I won’t touch you." I blinked. "Then what the hell am I doing here?" "I won’t touch you," he repeated, his voice walking past me slowly, like smoke trailing behind. "But my voice will." I scoffed. "Your voice?" I turned to leave. "You’ve got to be kidding me." "Give it one try," he said, standing behind me, close but not touching. "If you don’t finish before I even lay a hand on you... You can walk out. But I promise you, once you hear me... you’ll spill harder than you ever have. You’ll cry. Shake. Beg." I turned my head, half-laughing. "I’ve had hundreds of orgasms." "But none that ever satisfied you." He was right again. My throat tightened. I swallowed. I stared. Then let out a half-laugh. "No offense, but that sounds funny." "Don’t speak," he said, tone calm but commanding. And just like that, my mouth closed. His voice wasn’t loud. It wasn’t deep in the usual sense. But it vibrated through my chest like a secret. Smooth. Dark. Like warm silk against bare skin. He leaned forward, slowly. Still not touching. "Sit down. Breathe slowly. Let go of what you think you know about pleasure." My knees bent without meaning to. I sat. He smiled. "Good. Now... listen." That voice... It didn’t echo. It resonated. It settled, like it had weight, sinking through my skin and dragging across nerves that had never felt alive before. "You came here because you’ve been chasing pleasure with your body," he said, voice low, steady. "But I’m going to give it to you through your mind. Through your breath. Through sound." My fingers tensed on the armrest. "Close your eyes." I obeyed. "Breathe in for four seconds." I drew a shaky breath. "Hold it." My lungs ached slightly. "Now out... slowly. Let your shoulders fall. Let your muscles melt. That’s it." I exhaled. My body relaxed inch by inch. "Again." I did. "Now imagine my hand brushing the side of your face. Just fingertips. Dragging down... down... to your throat. My palm is hovering above your chest. Not touching. Just close enough that your skin burns from absence." My hips jerked subtly. "Undo your top button." My fingers fumbled. "Slower. I want to hear the fabric shift. Let me hear how hungry your skin is." The button popped open with a soft click. My shirt loosened, air kissing my collarbones. "Touch your chest. One hand only. Let your fingers tease your nipple. Barely a graze. Just enough to make it throb." I obeyed. My head tipped back. A quiet gasp escaped my lips. "Let it linger. Let your breath follow your hand." I inhaled sharply, then whimpered as sensation curled across my skin like static. "Don’t touch yourself yet. Keep your thighs still. Let that tension build in your hips until it begs to be released." "I can’t..." I gasped. "Yes, you can. I haven’t permitted you yet." My cock strained painfully beneath my pants. I ached, every muscle tight with restraint. He shifted slightly. Not closer. Not touching. But I felt it. "Now undo your zipper. Let me hear it." Zzzz-kkk... the sound made me moan. "Breathe. Let your hands rest beside you. No touch. Just feel the air. The heat. Me in your mind." I clenched the chair. Sweat beaded at my brow. His voice dropped into something darker. "I want you to imagine my mouth at your ear. Whispering filth you’ve never let yourself want. Imagine my breath skating down your neck. My tongue is licking the edge of your sanity." My back arched. My chest lifted like I needed more air, but couldn’t find it. "Feel my voice where it counts. There. Right where you’re twitching. Right where you’re soaked. I know you are. Say it." "I’m... soaked," I exhaled, trembling. "Say what you need." "I need to... to spill it out." "No." I whimpered. "Not yet. Not until your whole body begs. Until your soul forgets everything but me." "Please..." He stood. Slowly. His steps made no sound. But I felt the movement in the air. The closeness. His voice was suddenly behind me. "I could press my lips to the back of your neck right now. But I won’t. I want you to fall apart without it." I shook. "I want you to know I own you. Without one finger lifted." I cried out. A breath. A broken whimper. My head tipped back. "Touch yourself." I gasped. "One hand. Slow. Stroke. I want to hear every breath. Every moan. Don’t rush. I want the ache to build so hard it burns." My fingers obeyed. My hips lifted. My breath grew ragged. My legs tensed. "Feel my voice inside you. Like heat. Like sin. Like you’re being touched everywhere all at once." My breath hitched. The room blurred. He leaned forward slightly, voice low like thunder rolling over skin. "You’ve never been touched by a real man’s desire. But tonight, you’ll feel it without touch. And when you spill, you’ll remember my voice inside your soul." I gasped. My hips twitched. My body began to shake. "Now say my name." I didn’t know his name. I didn’t care. I screamed instead. Loud. Raw. Orgasm hit me like a damn wave, ripping through my body in shameful, violent, delicious tremors. I sobbed. I shook. My release stained everything. He never touched me. But his voice... his voice destroyed me. Comment "stop" or "continue"...