Trouble in Paradise

By Broken Doll

Grace and her husband Anton go on a second honeymoon to a tropical resort in the Caribbean to try to rekindle the spark in their marriage. All that she finds when she gets there is the chance to go astray. Will she be able to resist her baser instincts after she meets Steve, or will she be unfaithful to her husband all over again?

Trouble in Paradise explores themes of cheating, exhibitionism, and breeding. It is a steamy 20,000 word novella for mature audiences only, and reader's discretion is advised.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Broken Doll
• Release date: Apr 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224604548

Broken Doll

I'm no one - just a broken toy to be used and thrown away. I'm a college student and I write stories to drain the darkness from my soul. They aren't for everyone but I enjoy it all the same.

Book preview

Trouble in Paradise

By Broken Doll

This story contains graphic depictions of sex and sexuality. All characters in this story are 18 or older. Reader discretion is advised.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Other Works by Broken Doll

Chapter 1

The bed itself could hardly stand up to this abuse and wobbled perilously, creaking in time to her husband’s thrusts. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he gasped, pounding against her ample ass from behind while he held her hips for his balance as much as his pleasure. It had probably seen some hard use in a place like this and banged loudly against the wall with every stroke, but if she could take it, than it could take it too.

Even though no one was on the other side to hear, it was still terribly distracting as she tried to enjoy the first halfway decent fuck they’d had in months. I’m cumming honey, I-I’m… Unhhhhh…

Mmmmm, harder, baby, please! She moaned in time to his last few thrusts before he blew his load into her pussy, but if he’d been sober, she was sure he would have been able to tell that her heart wasn’t in it.

Grace lay beneath her panting husband for almost a minute before he finally rolled off of her, giving her plenty of time to wish he’d had another shot or two before they returned to their room. A proper whiskey dick might have lasted long enough to make her cum. He hadn’t, though, so she would just have to grin and bear it and see if they had any better luck in a night or two. In exotic paradise like this she should be able to find some fantasy to get her in the mood.

Well, if she had any better luck, she corrected herself as she rolled out of bed to use the toilet. God knew if she didn’t piss after a sweaty night like this, no amount of Cranberry juice would fix a UTI, and she knew from their last visit to St Bart’s that getting basic things like antibiotics could be a real bitch when you were trapped in paradise.

While she sat on the toilet, letting her body do its thing, she wondered why the hell she thought that coming back here seven years later was going to fix anything. Between the brochures and the nostalgia, she’d thought that coming back to the place they’d had their honeymoon would feel grander somehow. But there were too many arguments and too years over overtime to erase all of that quite so simply.

Being back in the same resort didn’t make it more meaningful, though, she thought as she looked around the cheap finishes of the bathroom. If anything, things here had gotten shabbier, just like the rest of her life.

Half-drunk mediocre sex could be had in their own bed for a hell of a lot less money. Even if little Amy was just starting to get to the age where she could get in the way of that, it wasn’t like her grandparents were very far away, or unwilling to take her for a night.

No beach, not even one as nice as the white sands their bungalow sat on, could make bigger problems go away. They could only make them seem distant for a few days, and once you realized that those same issues were waiting to pounce on you as soon as you got off the plane, they didn’t even really seem that distant anymore.

She sighed as she flushed so her husband wouldn’t hear her and accuse her of being in one of her moods. She didn’t want to aggravate him, not really. She wanted to talk to him, or more specifically, she wanted him to talk to her. You know Anton, I really think we need to stop ignoring the elephant in the room and… Grace started as she walked back into their bedroom, but as soon as she heard her husband snoring, she stopped.

Of course, you’re asleep, she sighed. Of course, you are. If nothing else is going to change, why would I expect that to be any different? He’d bothered to peel of his condom and toss it on the floor, but after that he’d just passed out.

She stood there for a long moment, gazing not just at him but at what their life had become. He was still the man she married mostly. He hadn’t let himself go too much, and on the right day, he didn’t really look forty yet but tangled in sweaty sheets and sprawled out on a hotel room bed really wasn’t a good look for anyone.

It was all so claustrophobic. Standing there in the dark, she could feel real life suddenly closing in on her. What she really needed, she realized, was some fresh air and a few minutes as far away from her husband as possible. Actually, getting dressed when it was already so warm was far too much to ask too, she thought as she picked up some shorts.

Grace casually tossed them aside before rummaging around the floor in their dark room until she found the semi-sheer kimono. She’d worn it earlier over her bikini while they were lounging around the bar. The mauve chiffon robe hardly counted as actually getting dressed.

It covered her mostly of course but showed off almost everything it covered anyway. She shrugged as she put it on. They were in a private bungalow on a private beach. No one was going to be out there while she went to brood and let the stars calm her down.

In this mood, all she needed was a fig leaf, though once she stepped outside and let the door shut behind her, the tropical breeze picked up enough to ruffle her gossamer thin outfit and remind her that a fig leaf probably would have covered more.

It didn’t matter right now. None of it