I took a life and deserved to be punished. Dating assholes removed the guilt and pain, but my conflicted past haunted me day and night, until I walked into Axel Wagner’s night club.
He breathed life back into my lungs and taught me how to make the most out of life. I survived for him and struggled to learn how to exist for me. He made living easier. He made me want to overcome my dark past. He pushed me to my limits until vengeance flowed back into my body and I wanted to fight back.
We were meant to heal each other, but when I tried my revenge blossomed and my past came back to haunt me.
And everything Axel had built, including the glued pieces of my heart, would break again.
Note: Broken Cheaters is Book 3 in the Cheaters Series however it can be read as a stand alone novel. Contains content suitable for mature audience only.
★★★★★ “Broken Cheaters is an epically exquisite and utterly breathtaking story of unwarranted redemption and unblemished love. There is nothing more sizzling and touching then a man who finds the priceless treasure that has been missing in his life and does everything he can to keep her close and safe. Watching such a huge and life changing love bloom to life from the ashes of a painful and broken life literally stopped my heart more than once.” ~ Shadowplay, Reviewer
Darkness blinded me. I blinked over and over, but my sight remained blocked under the cover of sexy black. My lungs tightened, my breathing constricted by my nerves. I’d already gone five steps down to the basement, and the further I descended, the harder my heart hammered in my chest. I stretched my arms out sideways, reaching a velvet-textured wall with my fingertips. The patterns felt soft and intriguing to my touch. The narrowness of this hall, along with the darkness, should have kicked my claustrophobia into a full-blown panic attack, but my curiosity at what felt like a forbidden entrance won out. My senses were teased by floral and fruity scents along with the occasional sound of a desperate whimper combined with deep breathing was like an erotic magnet.
I wondered where the handsome man I’d followed here had disappeared to. When I saw him finish the orange liqueur in his glass and pull his fingers through his hair, longer at the top and trimmed neatly near the nape, I felt my heart leave on a wild journey. It had never beat as hard as when our gazes locked. The moment only lasted a split second, but the connection felt everlasting.
Once in the hallway at the back of the strip-club, the floral scent had lured me in, and I’d left the dancing performers with oil-slick bodies behind me, without a second thought. My curious steps became shakier the further down I walked, but I couldn’t turn back now.
A soft moan from the room ahead made me pause, and my breath hitched.
I wasn’t looking for an adventure on this Saturday night; in fact, deep inside I was hoping this would lead to an exit at the back of the club, so that I could leave my asshole boyfriend – fiancé, actually, who’d found a new pair of tits to focus on – behind.
A faint red light clicked over my head; it must have been activated by a motion detector. I looked up to the ten steps behind me, then down to another dozen, hesitating.
I’m almost halfway there.
The wall I’d been touching was covered with cushioned tapestry. Under the red light, it appeared purple, with dark patterns of wavy designs. If I stared long enough, I’d fall into hypnosis of its seductive swirls. Another whimper sounded from the mysterious room downstairs, and my throat tightened with nerves and excitement as I was tempted forward.
I finally reached the red curtain that closed off the entrance. The scent baiting me morphed from floral to lust. A hint of sweat mixed with a vanilla aroma lingered; the kind that made your mouth water. I could taste the forbidden fruit on the tip of my tongue. From beyond the curtain, seductive whispers teased my ears. I pressed my back against the wall, panting, wondering whether I should part the red fabric standing between me and the mysterious room on the other side.
Why would a strip club have a secret room in the basement, if it weren’t for its customers? Maybe this place was for the rich and famous? Like an exclusive backdoor to watch Chippendales and special performances.
This off-limits space felt arousing, and the thrill of the unknown was beginning to inflame my hormones. I was filled with that gut feeling – when you knew you shouldn’t be doing what you were doing – which made it that much more enticing. It had been a while since I’d felt that kind of excitement. My life now consisted of satisfying a boyfriend who didn’t give a fuck about me and who disappeared for weeks at a time. I still couldn’t get used to the idea of being engaged to the bastard. And then when I thought we had broken up, Brad decided to show up again. It was frustrating, but I couldn’t tell him to get lost because that would mean a fight – and a fight would mean hiding out in my room, afraid to come out, unless it was to give my body to him and ask for forgiveness. Why did I have a talent for finding jerks? Actually, though, it was he who’d found me. I was vulnerable and living on the streets. Brad had given me a roof over my head and food on the table. Sometimes I felt like I’d sold my soul to him to survive. And the worst part of it all was that I deserved it.
Secretly, I hoped that one day he would forget about me and never return.
Maybe I should move?
At that thought, another moan echoed, and I gently tugged the red curtain to the side, peeking inside a circular room. In the middle was a counter with a topless female employee. Two silver star pasties covered her nipples. She removed some supplies from underneath the counter and displayed them on the shelves. My eyes strained and I gasped when I saw the dildos, floggers, blindfolds, and whips. Truthfully, that was all I recognized, but there was much more.
What is this place?
Around the perimeter, entrances similar to the one where I stood were draped with purple fabric. One of them was partially opened to the side. Beyond, a man’s tight ass plunged forward, in and out of view. His hands were holding onto something – probably a woman’s hips. I tensed my thighs, watching the force of him driving forward, imagining how his fingers would feel on my skin as he held on from behind. His jaw was tight, and his body glistened with sweat and oil. I imagined the grunts leaving his lips vibrating against my skin. The hairs on my nape stood tall, aroused. He paused and pulled the curtain closed.
My gaze immediately searched for another opening. I felt like a pervert, intruding on someone else’s privacy, but I couldn’t stop. There didn’t seem to be a way to go inside and not be noticed.
I finally caught a drape as it swooshed to the side when a couple switched position. My mouth dropped open. They were only a couple of doors away, and from this angle, the few inches of a gap afforded a full view. The woman was lying back on the plush seat, her legs spread, and the man was bent forward, his head lowered between her thighs, licking her. I felt a tightness between my legs, followed by a swelling. In a flamboyant sixty-nine position, the man lowered his crotch to her head and she took him in her mouth, cupping his balls with her hand and squeezing his ass with the other. I shifted, fearing what the changed consistency in my panties meant. My hand twitched with an urge to lift my dress and feel myself. I licked my lips, wishing I could touch a man the way she did, with so much trust. As he clasped his mouth over her, the drape was pulled shut.
My face dropped as I saw a buff man, the one whom I’d followed, walking toward me, his gaze locked on my confused and now petrified and embarrassed expression.
I let go of the curtain I’d been gripping, whipped around, and ran out of the brothel back up the steep stairs. My legs shook with fear and heat. I heard him join me in the hall and looked behind me. My heel caught on the next stair, and I fell flat on my face. It was enough to give the man chasing me time to catch up. I turned around onto my back, my body awkwardly splayed on the staircase. My dress was riding up my legs, exposing my drenched panties. I wanted to move and adjust my dress, but I couldn’t. With his feet planted to the sides, he hovered above me, drinking me in from the bottom up. His figure blocked the light, shadowing my body in sexy darkness. He lowered himself, supporting his weight on his hands by my shoulders. His face was chiseled, and his chin and jaw were tantalizing with the two-day growth. The angry look I was expecting on his face was instead one filled with desire and confusion.
I looked right into his eyes. Their golden depths made me think of a desert at night, its beauty hidden beneath darkness. A hint of pain was reflected in the red light.
“What are you doing here?”
His sexy whisper reached me, seducing my ears. His breath held a hint of alcohol and chocolaty sweetness. I swept a glance over his right arm and the rose tattoo that covered it from the wrist all the way up to the hem of his black t-shirt. I wondered how far it stretched.
“My name is Trish,” I replied, shaking away the lusty thoughts of licking each rose petal with my tongue.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again. “Who sent you?”
“My name is Trish.”
“You said that already.”
I heard my heart’s repetitive pounding, as if there were a drum on the step above my head. He grasped my hand and helped me up. I smoothed my shaky palms over my dress, and when I looked back up, he was standing on one step lower, his height still dominating me.
The stranger pinned me against the wall, the full length of his body pressed to mine. I couldn’t breathe. The silk dress I was wearing felt like skin underneath his muscles. Both my hands were in his, our fingers twined as if we’d known each other for years. The pressure of his body, his full weight resting on me, was too much to handle. I couldn’t think or make any sense of what I was doing.
Where was I, anyway?
“Trish, I’m going to ask you one more time. What are you doing here?”
“I got lost.”
“And decided to walk the stairs to an unknown basement?”
“Ahm, I heard noises.”
“Noises?” he asked.
Like yours, right now.
“So, you like adventure?”
“Far from it.”
He shook his head. “Did you not like what you saw, downstairs?”
I held still as his hand slid down my thigh and scrunched my dress up, and his fingers traced up to my panties, drawing them to the side. I parted my legs willingly, wanting more of his hot fingers on me.
“You did like it,” he murmured into my ear.
I felt him grow against my belly, his erection stealing my focus.
“I… I have a boyfriend.” I remembered. Actually, he was my fiancé. Why did I keep forgetting that? I hadn’t really agreed to the marriage; it just happened. Like with everything else in my life, I had no strength to reject Brad.
“So? Obviously he’s not paying enough attention to you. If you were mine, I’d never let you wander off and watch others fuck. I’d make sure you were so satisfied, you’d never need to look at porn again.”
Was he looking for a girlfriend? Was that why his eyes nearly pierced my skin? He didn’t seem like the type. There was loneliness behind his eyes. It was almost too painful to keep our gazes locked, but I did, because what he was doing with his fingers between my legs kept the shock factor skyrocketing.
“Who were they?” I asked.
“Lonely people looking for a good time.”
I had a feeling they were much more than that.
“Are you lonely, Trish?”
I was, but instead of admitting the isolation I had succumbed to, I shook my head.
“Then why is such a beautiful woman like you alone?”
“I’m not alone. You’re here.”
Did I just flirt?
I felt drawn to this man like to no one else ever before, somehow feeling that our meeting here had been planned by a mysterious force. I could feel it around us, cocooning us, closing in, forcing us to touch, hold, and never let go.
“And what are you going to do about it?” he asked.
Was this my chance? For a few minutes, my only wish was to forget my life. I wanted to give in to the woman who was hidden beneath the black framed glasses, dyed crow-hair and Botox-injected lips. For one evening, I wanted to be me again — the same girl who’d died five years ago.
“You came to this strip club hoping to forget your troubles, didn’t you? Did you like what you saw downstairs? Do you want me to do that to you? Lick you and devour you? Or do you want me to fuck your mouth until you can’t talk and your pussy until you can’t stand on your legs? I can make you forget your troubles, Trish. I’ll make sure you remember tonight for weeks.”
His fingers were still at my panties, playing with the wetness covering me.
I lowered my hand to his stiff cock, curving my fingers over the fabric. “Do what you’re good at.”
With my permission, his hands took over. They were everywhere, searching, squeezing, and fondling as if I were a fruit at a market and he was testing whether I was ripe.
His mouth captured mine, hard and persistent; this man knew what he wanted and didn’t know the meaning of no. Actually, I was sure he’d leave me alone if I just asked him. But I would do no such silly thing.
I held onto his bulging biceps, smoothing my fingers over the skin underneath his shirtsleeves. He stilled at the touch, shifting. I sensed a change in his mood. He hesitated before resuming the deep kiss, darting his tongue inside my mouth, owning it, forcing me to succumb to his persistent strokes. It was as if he wanted to forget his past as badly as I did mine. This time between us, although fast, was as special to him as it was to me. We both needed to lose ourselves, even if it was for a measly few minutes. I shared the anger I felt vibrate in his chest with every breath. His pain was my pain, his sorrow was mine, and his growing need was absorbed by my body. My legs quivered, my pulse sped, and I didn’t even know if I was breathing. There was no way I’d lose a moment of his kiss to inhale.
In a swift motion I was lifted up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. The narrow hall spun. The desperate sounds I’d heard earlier in the downstairs room were now my own. I breathed in his woodsy scent, mixed with a hint of scotch. He possessed me. The hard muscles on his body were my support, my need and my solace. I didn’t notice when he managed to lower his pants down to his knees or how my ripped panties ended up on the steps.
“Condom?” I managed to say into his mouth.
“Already on, baby.”
I was in a different world in this man’s arms. I’d never been this reckless before, but he drew me into the aura that was him with the power of a black hole. There was no stopping once you were within its grasp.
With one prod, he was deep inside me. Our foreheads connected as he stilled and breathed heavily, shaking his head.
Don’t stop now. You can’t.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“You’re…” He paused.
“I’m fine. And yes, I want this.”
He took my mouth with his, this time tasting me slowly, almost desperately. I thought I heard him finish the sentence by breathing So much like her slowly into my mouth. The sensual caress of his lips changed the tone of this night from a casual fuck to a deeper yearning that both of us needed satisfied.
It didn’t take long after that. He squeezed my ass with his hands, kissing me and filling me. Rubbing up against him made me crazy and I burst from within like I had never done before. After he pulled out, he traced his thumb over my bottom lip, shaking his head, after which he picked up my torn panties and stuffed them in his pocket.
“Go, Trish. Leave and never come back to this place again.” He tugged on my dress, which fell back down over my hips to its full length.
Speechless and reeling with what had just happened, I watched him leave up the steps. The man was walking sin – and I hadn’t even gotten his name.