CHAPTER 7: CHAPTER 7: THE PLEASURE TRAP

I pulled over, gripping the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I stared at the message, hoping it was some kind of twisted joke. But this was Evric. Nothing was never random with him. He knew. He planned this.

I typed back quickly.

"What the hell do you mean your property?"

Seconds passed.

Then...

"You didn’t ask who the real owner was. You were too eager to escape me. But you walked right into me again. Congrats."

I threw my phone onto the passenger seat, leaning back with a groan. My head hit the rest behind me as I stared at the ceiling of my car.

I was trapped. Again.

Like no matter how far I tried to run, no matter how hard I tried to take back control of my life, he was already ten steps ahead.

You just bought one of my properties.

Of course I did.

Of course, he made sure of that.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I made a sharp U-turn and headed back toward the property. My heart was racing, not from excitement this time, but from fury.

I stormed into the property office, jaw clenched, heart racing. The man who sold me the place looked up from his desk, clearly startled by my sudden entrance.

"You didn’t tell me that property belonged to Evric Draeven!" I snapped.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Mr. Smith... I was actually hoping you wouldn’t come back so soon."

My brow furrowed. "Why?"

He sighed heavily, like the guilt had been sitting on him all day. "Because I should’ve been honest from the start. A few days ago, Mr. Draeven came to me... Evric Draeven."

I froze.

"He offered a ridiculous amount of money for the property. He said he wanted it fast. But when I told him someone else had already shown serious interest, he asked who."

He looked at me nervously. "I told him it was you. I mentioned you ran that popular restaurant down the street, that you’d been chasing this place for a while. I thought nothing of it."

I stared at him, heat rising to my face. "And he bought it?"

"Yes. Paid in full, no hesitation. But then he said something strange... He told me to go ahead and finalize it with you. That I should proceed like nothing changed. He wanted you to buy it from him without knowing."

I blinked, trying to absorb it all.

"So... let me get this straight. I didn’t just buy the property, I bought it from Evric?"

He nodded slowly. "Exactly. That’s why the documents came so quickly. He already signed them over to my name before I passed them to you."

I stepped back, breath catching in my throat. "I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want anything that ties back to that man."

The seller raised both hands. "Zayn... I’m sorry, truly. But the documents are sealed. You signed. The payment’s been processed. You should’ve read the fine print, non-refundable."

I pulled the papers out of my bag and scanned them, eyes darting across the text. My hands trembled when I saw it, bold and clear. Non-refundable transaction.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. There was nothing left to say.

I felt sick. I was so eager to grab this place, to expand, to make something bigger for myself... I didn’t even realize I was walking into a trap he laid for me.

I stepped back, nodding slowly, too angry to speak. Then I turned on my heel, walked out, and got into my car.

I didn’t blast the music. I didn’t even touch the radio. I just drove home in silence, the weight of what just happened pressing on my chest.

I hadn’t just bought a building.

I’d bought myself right back into his game.

I got home, slammed the door behind me, and locked it like I was trying to shut out everything, the guilt, the humiliation, the regret. My apartment was silent. The lights were low. My chest was tight.

Then my phone rang.

Evric.

For a moment, I thought he was calling to talk business. Maybe he’d decided to refund my money after all.

I was wrong.

His voice poured through the speaker like velvet laced with danger. "Long day?" he said softly. "You must be tense, Zayn... Let me help you relax."

I tensed. "Evric, I’m not in the mood. If you’re not going to refund my..."

"Hang up, and I’ll be on your doorstep within five minutes."

I froze.

His voice dropped lower. "So stay on the line... and listen to me."

And I did.

I didn’t know why. Maybe because I was exhausted. Maybe because deep down, I didn’t really want him to stop.

He started talking, soft, dark, and hypnotic.

Telling me what he’d do if he were here.

How he’d touch me.

Where his mouth would go first.

And as the words left his lips, they slipped under my skin like heat. My fingers trembled. My breath hitched.

My clothes hit the floor, one piece after another, like I was shedding armour I didn’t need anymore.

I closed my eyes and let his voice take over.

It was like he was right there... behind me... inside me.

Controlling me without a single touch.

And I let him.

Because no matter how much I hated what he was doing to me... I couldn’t stop wanting it.

I stood there, naked in the dark.

I’m not touching myself.

I’m just listening.

To nothing and somehow, to him.

My breath caught.

My cock was already half-hard. Just from the memory of a voice that never touched me but had destroyed me.

I hadn’t even gotten over the pain for the day.

But I remembered every word.

"Don’t move. I want to see your cock bounce for me..."

My chest rose.

"Unzip. Let it fall out... No hands. No rush. Let me see how hungry it is without you even touching it."

I walked to the mirror. Stared at myself.

The way I’d stood in front of him. The ache. The tension. The wet need pulsing through me.

My hand hovered. Still not touching.

"Imagine my lips... warm and soft... kissing the tip... dragging slowly over the head while you beg not to cum."

My knees buckled.

"You feel it, don’t you? My voice inside your cock... like it’s pumping your blood... like it’s stroking you from the inside."

I leaned on the counter, legs wide, cock swinging free, already leaking, slow drops sliding down the tip.

"You’re dripping already. Filthy boy. You’re such a good listener..."

I gasped.

And finally, finally, I touched.

Soft. Just my fingertips tracing the shaft. Barely a stroke.

And I moaned.

Loud.

Desperate.

"Haaaa—f-fuck..."

"Don’t stroke yet. Just hold it. Feel how heavy it is. All that blood. All that heat. That’s mine now."

I whimpered.

"Please... say something again..."

I imagined him behind me.

Leaning in.

Mouth beside my ear.

Not kissing. Not licking.

Just whispering.

"My hand’s not there... but I want you to imagine it. Hot palm... big fingers... slowly curling around your cock..."

"Not squeezing. Just holding. Letting it twitch."

"Now my thumb slides across your slit... You feel how wet you are for me?"

I groaned, deep, guttural... hips jerking forward.

I imagined the voice circling me, wrapping around me, breathing into the hollow of my throat.

"Your nipples are hard. Aren’t they?"

I grabbed one.

Twisted it slowly between two fingers.

"Ahhh... haaah...!"

"That’s right. Rub them. While I talk about your cock. You’re already leaking again, aren’t you? That’s precum, huh. That’s your body’s way of begging me to speak."

"God..." I gasped, pumping slowly now, just once... twice...

The sound of skin slicking against skin echoed through the room.

Slap... Slap... Slap...

"Stroke faster now. Don’t stop. Listen to me. Stay with my voice."

"I want you to cum without even opening your eyes. Just listen. Feel."

"Ahhh... ahh... ahhh..."

I moaned louder, deeper. My legs were shaking.

My chest heaved. My cock throbbed, each stroke soaked, swollen, slick.

"You feel my mouth now... wrapped around the tip. Tongue circling slowly. Just the tip. You’re not inside me."

"But your balls are tight. Aren’t they? I can see them. Pulling up. Getting ready to burst."

I grunted. My hips bucked wildly. My hand lost rhythm. My vision blurred.

"I want you to cum now. Hard. Without shame. Let it hit the floor. Let it cover your belly. Let it ruin you."

"I—f-fuck—I’m—AHHHH—!"

My orgasm shattered me.

Cum shot out of me in thick, hot streams. My moans shook the walls. My hand kept moving, fast, sloppy, until I cried out and slumped against the counter, chest soaked, knees barely holding.

I was panting. Crying. Trembling.

His voice was gone. The call ended.

But the need was still there.

Even in the silence, I could still hear him whispering things I shouldn’t crave.

And just like that, I was pulled deep into his pleasure again.

I forgot everything. The trap. The games. The fact that I’d just stepped right into another one of his plays.

My body didn’t care.

Because no matter how hard I tried not to want him...

The more I tried to fight it...

The more my body betrayed me.

I couldn’t resist him.

And now, I wasn’t sure if I was still in control

Or if I ever had been at all.

My life... it was already in his hands.