Tying Me Sinfully

*SYKE*

The lightning struck again. Second time.

My fingers twisted into the curtains so tight the fabric burned against my skin. A cold shiver crawled up my spine, but I couldn't move. I just stood there, frozen, watching the man I loved pump into my best friend like she was his last meal on earth.

Jennifer's moans filled the room. Each one hit me like a slap. My stomach dropped. My chest caved in on itself. But I couldn't look away. Some sick part of me needed to see it all—needed to sear every disgusting detail into my memory so I'd never be stupid enough to trust again.

Daniel. My Daniel. Balls deep inside Jennifer.

This had to be a nightmare. I pinched myself hard enough to leave a mark—but I felt the sting, sharp and immediate. This was real. The pain confirmed it.

My hand shook as I reached into my bag and pulled out my phone. I wasn't sure what I was doing, just that I needed to do something.

I dialed his number. Not because I expected him to pick up—part of me hoped he wouldn't. But I needed proof.

I needed to prove to myself that the man I was watching couldn't possibly be Daniel. That my eyes were lying to me.

His phone rang on the table beside them. I saw him glance at the screen, and a stupid smirk curled his lips. Without missing a beat—without even pausing—he picked up. Still moving inside her. Still pounding. Still panting like an animal.

"Hi, honey. How's your day going?"

His voice was so calm. So casual. Like he wasn't buried inside another woman while talking to me. Like this was just another afternoon call.

His fingers dug into Jennifer's *ss like he was claiming her, leaving red handprints on her soft skin. Sweat dripped down his abs, and I watched every single drop fall, cataloging each one.

He used his spit to lubricate her c*nt, sliding in and out with practiced ease—a rhythm that suggested he'd done this before. Many times before.

My heart screamed. My lungs seized. But I fought it. I had to stay in control, had to keep this together long enough to hear it all.

"Oh, I just called to check how you're doing," I said. My voice came out weak. Pathetic. Like I was begging him to lie to me, to say something that would make this all go away.

"I'm just busy with work. I'll call you soon. I'm in the middle of a business deal."

Business deal. Right. His d*ck was doing all the negotiating.

The lie was so casual it hurt almost as much as watching him. Almost.

"Okay, baby. That's fine," I whispered, and I hated myself for the softness in my voice. For the acceptance. For allowing this.

"I love you."

Those three words hit me like a truck hitting a brick wall. Every memory flooded back at once—every "I love you" he'd ever whispered against my skin, every promise made in the dark, every lie wrapped in tenderness. It was all a show.

A circus performance, and I was the clown in the center ring.

"I love... you... too."

My voice cracked. Shattered. But he didn't notice. He was too busy with his "business deal."

I ended the call, and my hand fell to my side like it was made of stone.

And then the laughter came.

It pierced my soul. Loud. Obvious mockery dripping from every note. Jennifer knew. She'd always known. The realization made me want to vomit.

"Your performance is so convincing," Jennifer purred, her voice honeyed poison. "Mmm! Danny, I love how you f*ck this p*ssy."

Danny. She called him Danny. Like she owned the nickname. Like she'd earned the right.

Then she asked a question that shot through me like a bullet, even amidst her intense pleasure.

"Whose p*ssy do you like better? Hers or mine?" She threw it back at him, skin slapping against skin in a rhythm that made my stomach ache with a pain I'd never felt before.

"Hers is trash and loose," he said, eyes closed, grabbing her hair and pounding harder. "Yours is so f*ck*ng tight."

The words landed like physical blows. Trash. I was trash to him. Everything I'd done, everything I'd given—it was all worthless. Loose. Unwanted.

I wanted to stop watching. I wanted to run. I wanted to scream until my throat bled. But something darker inside me insisted I stay.

I needed to see enough—needed my heart broken so completely that there would be no coming back from this. No forgiveness. No second chances.

Then a familiar groan filled the room. Intense. Sharp. His body language changed. I recognized the sound of Daniel about to finish.

That sound usually made me happy—made me feel wanted, made me feel like I was doing something right. This time, it hurt more than any physical pain I'd ever felt.

"F*ck!" Daniel exclaimed, his body diving forward onto the bed.

He was finishing. Inside her.

Daniel had never loved so satisfied before, I just looked at the scene, my voice soft and pleading in the dark. And there he was, freely pumping his seed into my best friend like she was a privilege I'd never earned.

I hated him more in that moment than I thought it was possible to hate. I fought the storm of tears building inside me, threatening to drown me.

I had just witnessed a whole steamy episode of p*rn between my best friend and the only love of my life—and we'd never, not once, made love that good.

The lightning cracked again outside the window. A warning. A wake-up call I should have heard months ago.

I'd seen enough. More than enough. I'd seen everything I needed to see.

I wiped my tears with my palm. My hand came back wet and messy. I didn't care. I turned and walked out of his apartment. Quiet. Broken. Gone.

---

The drive home was torture.

My hands wouldn't stop trembling. Tears and snot mixed together, dripping into my mouth. I could taste the salt. The bitterness. The ruin of every dream I'd built around him. I could hear myself breathing—ragged, desperate, ugly—like an animal caught in a trap.

Then I screamed.

It tore out of me like something wild. Something wounded. Something that had been dying inside me for months, finally breaking free.

The storm swallowed it whole, the thunder covering my voice, but I still felt it echo in my bones. The raw, primal sound of betrayal made manifest.

I had nothing left.

My job had been a question mark for months—rejection after rejection wearing me down. My relationship was a lie wrapped in sweet words.

My best friend was a snake I'd invited into my own bed. My whole world was crumbling, and I was watching it burn from the inside out.

All I could see behind my eyes was Daniel's body moving inside Jennifer. Over and over. The rhythm. The sweat. The betrayal. The casual cruelty of it all. It played on a loop I couldn't turn off, no matter how hard I pressed my hands against my eyelids.

Then a notification popped up on my phone.

Congratulations! You've been offered the position of...

I had finally gotten a job. After months of waiting. At least something to celebrate. At least one thing that hadn't shattered in my hands.

I tried convincing myself to be happy. I really did.

But all I felt was empty.

So I drove. And I ended up at the bar.

*SKYE*

One more shot, I kept convincing myself, until I'd taken more than ten shots of dry gin. The bartender's look told me he already knew I was on a one-way trip to drunk town, but that was none of his business. If he were in my shoes, I was d*mn sure he'd shut down the bar and down every last bottle himself.

I scanned the room, taking in the colorful lights and decor, when my eyes landed on a handsome light-skinned guy. Who knows how long he'd been staring.

When our eyes met, he gave a gentle smile. But weirdly enough, all I could see was Daniel's face. Another one, I thought bitterly to myself, looking away with a laugh that tasted like ashes in my mouth.

I knew I had to leave—I could feel my consciousness slipping away like sand through my fingers—but at the same time, I felt like I hadn't drunk a thing.

My mind was foggy, my body numb, but my heart was still screaming. I clutched my wet jacket, battling the cold that the hot gin had