Taming the Heiress

Taming the Heiress

© 2015 Tiffany Graff
Winston

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the
express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief
quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to
persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely
coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s
imagination.

Please note that this work is intended only for
adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or
over.

Want more Tiffany Graff
Winston?

Sign up for her mailing list
-
http://eepurl.com/bi4BYr

E-mail Tiffany at
[email protected]

That stupid fucker.

That sorry excuse for a man, that insane
son-of-a-bitch.

I've known him for all of two minutes and I'm
already hell-bent on ripping his throat out the first chance I get.
And I will not be gentle, you can count on that.

Kaiden Hunter is currently sitting across the
table from me, laughing that wicked smile of his that might just
spoil my entire future with one show of his perfect pearly
whites.

Which won't be perfect for much longer if I
have anything to do with it.

“So, Fran,” he says with his mouth full of
buttered bread.

I freeze instantly, hating the way he
shortened my name like I’m some stupid commoner.

“It’s Francesca,” I say through gritted
teeth, all the while shooting a murderous look at my friend Emmalee
Branson, who is the one who dragged me into this whole thing.

“Oh?” he asks, his eyebrows raised almost to
his hairline. “Fran suits you so well, though. Very … homely.”

There’s that wicked grin again, and I’m
hating the adjective he used.

Luxurious, expensive, beautiful, stunning …
Those are all the things I’m used to, and appreciate being
called.

But
homely
?

Fuck no.

“Fran,” he repeats, taking no further notice
of my anger. “I hear you’ve shacked up with plenty of dudes over
the years, huh? What makes you choose Angus over here?”

My date shuffles uncomfortably in his seat,
and again, I am wondering what brought these two together, because
they couldn’t be more different.

On one hand you have Angus Lions. Perfect,
London-bred, a bit on the short side, but more than makes up for it
with his boyish good looks. He’s the Prince Harry of the Upper East
Side and every girl I know has nasty, dirty little dreams about
him.

Then you have that damned Kaiden Hunter.
Nouveau riche
, shall we call him? His mother is some actress
who has one of those rags to riches story, and his father … God
only knows. Kaiden may look just fine outside – okay, more than
just fine, I won’t be a hypocrite for a change. Towering over me
even in my sky high heels, his hair dark and thick, rebelliously
shaved at the sides and longer on top, his shoulders broad, his
abdomen muscled according to the tabloids I read religiously for a
mention of my name.

What they don’t tell you though, is the fact
that he is a complete, utter jerk face.

In a matter of ten minutes, this double date
has gone straight to hell, and I blame none other than Mr. Hunter.
Even though he is my friend’s date, he has made several crude
remarks about me, shot me down even after my polite answers, and
managed to trip me on the way into the restaurant, breaking my heel
in the process. While I hobbled into the restaurant, he laughed it
off and pinched my girlfriend’s butt cheek while she laughed
nervously.

Classy
.

“I think that’s a bit inappropriate to ask,”
I say stuffily, feeling a blush on my cheeks already. But that
moron is grinning from ear-to-ear and I have a sudden urge to snap
that smirk off his face.

I look at Angus for support and he clears his
throat.

“Be a good sport now, Hunter,” he says with a
chuckle.

“Always am, Lions,” Kaiden replies, flashing
another smile.

“So,” Emmalee interrupts cheerily and I give
her a stony look, but she refuses to meet my eye. She was the one
to set us up, going on and on about how hot Kaiden is, and when I
realized he knew Angus, I had to jump on the bandwagon.

“Have you all decided what you’re having?”
she chirps happily.

“I’ll have the
ossobucco
, and I
wouldn’t mind you for dessert, doll,” Kaiden replies, smirking, and
by Emmalee’s horrified expression, I’m pretty sure his hand has
found its way onto her thigh.
Inner
thigh, judging by her
dilated pupils.

“Oh,” she says stupidly, while Angus chuckles
again and I roll my eyes.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Kaiden asks me
sweetly. “You jealous? There’s more than enough room, so you’re
definitely free to join us.”

Both he and Angus laugh like he’s just
uttered an incredibly hilarious joke, but I’ve finally had
enough.

I throw my napkin on the table and get up
abruptly. “You may treat girls like that in Europe,” I spit out,
trying to make him feel bad for his mother’s Italian heritage,
though I’m pretty sure he’s a born-and-bred New Yorker.

“But we have standards in NYC,” I finish
stonily, giving him the iciest glare I can manage. This isn’t worth
it, not even for Angus Lions.

“Come on, Emmalee, let’s go,” I say decidedly
and look at my friend, finding her looking squeamish in her
seat.

I’m sure my eyes are shooting daggers after
she finally decides to meet my gaze, long seconds after my
statement. But instead of compliance, which she usually serves, I
can only see apologies.

“Looks like you’re on your own, sugar,”
Kaiden says cheerfully and I finally give off a dramatic sigh,
purse my lips and try to leave with my head held high.

I realize too late my heel is broken and go
down in a flurry, pulling down a whole tablecloth with me, along
with all of the cutlery.

Of course.

And because that isn’t good enough, I also
manage to end up with my head in Kaiden Hunter’s lap.

Which he seems to be enjoying, given his
immediate groan.

“I was gonna buy you a drink first,
Princess,” he says softly so only I can hear, and I get up with a
flushed face, ready to scream my head off.

Instead, a waiter rushes forward and fusses
over me, asking me if I need a doctor.

I ignore it, ignore them all. I step out of
my broken heels and set off for the door, barefoot.

It is only when I’m on the street that I
remember I forgot my coat and my purse along with my cellphone and
wallet.

Breathing deeply, I remind myself who I
am.

Francesca DeMarco.

Stunning beauty, heiress to a multi-billion
dollar hotel empire.

Long-legged, silky-haired, blue-eyed blonde
with a 24-karat smile and a rich Daddy.

No-one fucks with me and gets away with
it.

I met a girl today.

Fuck, I'm a walking cliché, aren't I?

But this one really is special. And I don't
mean the size of her tits, or the tightness of her pussy, or
anything else of that matter. I mean her ... all of her.

She's feisty, she's got a big mouth, yet she
somehow manages to stay so classy, centered and sophisticated.
She's all I imagined my girl would be someday ... if I were the
type to get tied down.

But as soon as I meet this girl, I can
actually imagine myself doing just that. Being with one person
only, because she' that great and it's enough.

My mother Ava Hunter is a movie actress, you
see. So when you grow up with five different Daddy figures and your
real Dad doesn't give a shit about you in general, you become a
different kind of person.

I'm not blaming my Mom for any of this, you
have to know. It's just the way I am.

But this ... thinking I could be with one
girl, and one girl only, happened for the first time in my entire
life. And it's all because of Francesca DeMarco, a gorgeous, long
legged, silky haired heiress of NYC.

She's snobby. She's annoying.
She's hot
as fuck.

As soon as I saw her, an insane desire to
make her mine came over me, something I've never felt before. Sure,
I've been attracted to girls - her friend Emmalee is a prime
example - but never like this.

So I do what I'm best at.

I make fun of her, mocking her, teasing
her.

I take it so far, she actually storms out of
the restaurant where we're having lunch.

Great job, Kaiden.

I'm quiet for the rest of the evening, but
Emmalee is all over me. I can tell it's superficial, this
attraction she feels for me. I don't think I could tell her a thing
about myself that she would genuinely care about. She saw the
photos, heard the story, and she just wants a piece of me.

Somehow, we end up in my apartment in the
early afternoon.

She's insistent, trying to get me to fuck
her, I'm sure. But it's like a switch has gone off in my head, and
try as I might, I just don't feel attracted to her anymore,
Francesca's face swimming in front of me every time I look at
Emma.

She finally steps on tiptoes, pressing a
passionate kiss against my lips.

Well, what I'm sure
could
turn into a
passionate kiss, had I actually opened my mouth.

Emmalee finally moves away and looks up at
me, looking more than a little offended. "What's wrong?" she asks,
her lips pouting. "Did I do something wrong?"

I sigh heavily. She's definitely one of
those girls that worries about every single thing, always thinking
about what others think of her. And I want to tell her she
shouldn't, want to convince her she's beautiful without other's
approval.

"Listen, Emmalee," I say, finally meeting
her hurt gaze. "You're a gorgeous girl, you really are." She beams,
but I can see the traces of worry already in her eyes.

You could tell this girl she was your queen,
and she'd still be doubtful.

I decide honesty is the best policy in this
case, so I laugh nervously, scratching my head.

"I seem to have a little crush on your
friend," I admit nervously, and her eyes bulge out. "Francesca. I
haven't met her before and ... I just, don't know. There's
something about her, you know?"

She looks so hurt, all I want to do is pet
her like some kind of puppy. But she nods none the less, giving me
a brave smile before claiming she really must get going and heading
out of the apartment.

Frustrated, I let out a sigh and sit on the
edge of my rumpled bed. Francesca is all I can think about, and
it's been hours since we had lunch together.

I lie back on the bed, and before I can even
think about what I'm doing, my fingers unzip my jeans and I bring
out my already hard cock.

Stroking my length, I think of the girl that
has occupied my mind for the past few hours.

Her full lips, almost to the point of being
too big for her face ... but yet so perfect. That gentle curve of
her hips that turns into a beautiful rounded ass, and her
oh-so-tiny waist. The sky high heels she wore only accentuated her
lean legs. And then there's her glorious, voluminous and incredibly
long brown hair.

In a world full of full heads of extensions,
her natural locks are a pleasant change. And I can't help but
imagine pulling the down as she sucked on my cock.

I groan, stroking myself as I think of her,
becoming harder and harder with each stroke. But I'm growing
frustrated, knowing I want her hands on me, not my own.

Sure, I could call a girl from my little
black book, yet I don't want to. At this point, I'm pretty sure I
need Francesca's lips locked on mine ... and possibly some other
places, too.

I sit up again as a brilliant idea makes its
way into my mind.

I have an interview in about an hour, and
it's the perfect opportunity into motion.

Smiling slowly, I begin to make a plan that
will bring Francesca DeMarco's perfect ass straight into my
bed.

I'm not on speaking
terms with Emmalee, so I've been ignoring her calls since that
so-called date at the restaurant. But she's been ringing
incessantly the whole day, and I've finally had enough.

I grab my cellphone, swiping furiously.
"What?" I bark down the line.

"H-hi, Francesca," Emmalee says sheepishly.
It's her usual tone, so I'm not too bothered yet. Oh boy, do I have
a surprise in store. "How are you doing?"