Wild Thing
JA Huss
Publication date: May 13th 2019
Genres: Contemporary Romance

Kidnapping her was the easy part. Now I’ve got to tame her.
Runaway corporate princess, Lyssa Baylor, was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
But that’s not what I’ll be sticking in there.

LYSSA
Freelance princess hunter, Mason Macintyre, thinks he’s so tough with those bulging muscles. He thinks he’s so smart with his plan to tame me with spankings and submission. Well, I’ve got news for him. They don’t call me Wild Thing for nothing. I’ve been playing unruly princess my whole life and I’m not about to stop now.

MASON
This was supposed to be a simple kidnap job. Catch her and bring her in so she can be married off to the son of a family friend. But once her father realizes the man he hired to reform his unruly brat of a daughter won’t be able to handle her, he blackmails me into completing the job.

No one blackmails me, I don’t care how rich and powerful you are. Her father might be untouchable, but Lyssa isn’t. I’m gonna touch her all over and punish her so hard, that forced marriage will be her only way out of my little princess reform school.

***

WILD THING is a smokin’-hot, sexy story of a runaway princess and her reluctant Prince Charming. A tantalizing tale of forced marriage, captive submission, and a hero who doesn’t know he’s a hero until he meets the girl he was meant to save.

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EXCERPT:

She smiles at herself in the mirror. “Now this is a wedding dress.”

And I agree. So different than the one she used to wipe my come off her face.

“But oh,” she says, turning to look at her ass in the mirror. “Panty lines.”

And then, before I even realize what she’s doing, she reaches inside the side slits along each thigh and pulls her panties down, kicking them off to the side.

“Lyssa!”

“This is why I never wear underwear,” she explains. “I need to see if it looks OK without them. Because with them—”

“You are not walking down the aisle with no panties on.”

“Oh, yes, I am. This is a no-panties dress and you picked it out. So you have to live with it.”

My cock agrees with her. Because I’m fully fucking hard now.

She glances down at it, then lifts her eyes to mine, and says, “I hope you’re not thinking—”

“I’m not,” I say.

“—because if you wanted to do dirty stuff in here, we could get caught—”

“Don’t worry,” I say.

“—and Margaret would be so disappointed in us if she caught the best man fucking his best friend’s fiancée.”

“What?” I say, doing a double-take.

“That’s what I told her. It’s kinda hot, isn’t it?”

“No,” I say. “It’s kinda sad, actually.”

“Well, it was a lie, anyway. So that just makes it hot.“

“Jesus, Lyssa.”

She mouths the words Wild Thing at me, then reaches down to grab my cock.

I push her away, but she backs me into the mirror with a bang.

“Everything OK in there?” Margaret calls from the other side of the door.

“Just fine,” I yell back, glaring at Lyssa.

“Come on,” she whispers. “Wild thing, hold me tight.” And then she giggles.

“That’s not even how the song goes—”

But I stop. Because the next thing I know, she’s on her knees in front of me, the button popped on my jeans, the zipper down, and my cock is in her hands.

“Lyssa,” I groan.

“Tell me no,” she says, then sticks the head of my cock in her mouth, pressing her tongue up against my shaft, before I even have a chance.

“Would you like another dress?” Margaret calls.

Lyssa eases her mouth off my cock with a loud smacking sound and looks up at me. “What do you think, Mason? Do we need to try on another one?”

“No,” I call back to Margaret. “We’ll let you know if we need anything else.”

“I could wrap it up for you,” Margaret offers, just as Lyssa puts my cock back in her mouth and takes me deep into her throat.

“Uh… we’re not quite…. oh, God… done yet,” I say.

“OK, I’m right out here if you need anything.”

“Great,” I groan. Because Lyssa is giving me a full-on head-bobbing messy blow-job. And against my better judgment, my fingers are now tangled in her hair, urging her on.

She pulls off me, both her hands on my thighs, pushing me back, and then she stands again.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making you choose.”

“Choose what?”

She backs up against the mirror and whispers, “You know why you chose the dress with two slits?”

I already know where this is going.