Tom Billionaire Ch. 04

Vivienne, of course, would rather have moved into my room. But the one time she asked I just gave her a terse "No", and that was the end of that. She obediently went to unpack her things, and I headed to enter my own bedroom for the first time in months.

From the moment I stepped into the Master Suite – the core of the home I'd built together with Taylor – I just fell apart. I sank to my knees, feeling my whole body going numb. And reading my mood perfectly, Cassandra just closed the doors behind me, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Staying in my room, I spent a few hours relapsing into my old grief, wondering what I could have done differently to change the past. Maybe if I'd been more perceptive, I would have noticed that Sharpley was about to betray me. Maybe if I hadn't been betrayed, I wouldn't have become so hell-bent on finding "Jada" to take my revenge. Maybe if I hadn't been so hell-bent on my revenge, I wouldn't have... violated... Olivia. And for the same reasons, maybe if I hadn't flown off to Milwaukee, JJ wouldn't have died.

I'd lost my family. All the money in the world couldn't change that.

I'd ruined a young girl's life, a maid I barely knew. Money couldn't change that, either.

And for a few moments, the depression that had almost consumed me three months ago threatened to return.

Of course, nothing as simple as a door could keep Vivienne away from me. As night fell, I was standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring across our private beach as the waves of the Atlantic Ocean crashed against the sand. The lights were all off in my room, the only illumination coming in from the gray, cloudy sky outside as daylight turned to dusk. And all of a sudden, I felt a pair of hands sliding around my chest, and a warm body dominated by two large breasts pressing against my back.

"What is wrong?" Vivienne asked in that lilting French accent.

I sighed and brought my hands up to cover hers, though I did not move them away.

"Too much."

"What can I do to help?"

I closed my eyes and sagged back against her. Nothing. There was really nothing Vivienne could do to help. She knew absolutely nothing about my real life. She did not know the important people from it. She had absolutely no connections back to all my problems.

And because of that, she was perfect. Vivienne was a blank slate, a fresh start. When I thought of her, I thought only of my pleasant life as Tom Eriksen, and absolutely nothing of the hardships of Jonathan Kwong.

I clung to that. I focused on that. Because even though we were here, in Jonathan Kwong's home, I wanted to escape. Not forever – I had chosen to come back to America for a reason. But being here, seeing all the old familiar things, was a little too much at once. I had to get away... even if just for a little while.

So I slowly spun around within Vivienne's embrace. I let my hands settle onto her perfect ass, cupping her buns firmly before trailing my fingers up her back and onto her shoulders. I slid my palms up to the base of her head, just behind her ears. And then gently tilting her head to the side, I bent and kissed her.

She had no idea what was running through my mind. All she could feel was that the man she adored more than anyone in the world was kissing her, and so Vivienne purred happily and returned my kiss with passionate fervor. I devoured her hungrily before pressing forward, causing her to step back once. And then again. And again. And again, until Vivienne's calves hit the edge of the bedframe.

My gorgeous dirty-blonde French babe moaned and let me push her onto her back while I propped myself above her, planting one knee on top of the mattress for leverage. At some point, she'd showered and put on a light sundress. After all, the only clothes she had were all meant for a Mediterranean summer holiday. The skirt was easy to lift up and out of the way. My left hand kept me upright while my right hand opened up my zipper. And then Vivienne's hands were at my crotch, opening up the button for me and then drawing my throbbing erection out.

There was no foreplay. I didn't have the time and she didn't care. She pulled the gusset of her own panties to the side with her right hand while her left guided me into place. And then with an audible groan from both of us, I slid all the way in.

"Take me," Vivienne breathed.

I did.

****

I awoke in the morning to feel a soft naked back against my chest. I tilted my face down to press my nose against her bare skin and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of her.

My hand slid down her side and up over her hips. I paused there and rubbed her ass with my hand. She made no real movements while I caressed the cheek, which made me think she was still asleep. Then I slowly moved my hand lower, stroking her thighs gently.

The gorgeous young woman was on her left side, her left leg pointing straight down the length of the bed with her right pulled forward and then bent at the knee. She was in the perfect position for my fingers to trail lower into the cleft between her legs, and when my fingertip began to slowly rub up and down the seam of her pussy lips, she began to stir.

I kept my touch soft, and every time she moved or moaned I went softer still. And gradually, like a flower in bloom, her labia opened up. I began to feel the first trickle of moisture, and then I pushed my finger in with added pressure and managed to coat the tip in her nectar.

Now at least a little lubricated, I let my finger glide higher along until I found that her little ball of pleasure had just begun to peek out from under its hood. And ever so gently, I touched my moistened finger to it.

She began to moan, a softly erotic sound, and her hips shuffled slightly in her sleep. I stopped moving for a moment, and then when she settled down, I returned my finger to her moistened folds to recoat with fresh nectar. Once sufficiently lubed up, I returned to rubbing her clit.

I kept this up for a good ten minutes. She nearly woke twice, but didn't. And by the end of that time her pussy was a furnace, her labia were widely parted and showing plenty of pink, and her whole body trembled. The familiar scent of our bedroom's pillows and sheets blended together with the spicy aroma of her fully-bloomed sexual arousal. It was time.

I shifted my hips until I was right behind her ass and just a little further down the bed. And then, with cock in hand, I guided it into position and began to lean my hips into her.

I heard the catch in her breathing as she came awake. By then, I already had the mushroom head inside her snatch, and it was just a matter of pressure as I slid the full rod deep into her body.

She moaned and rocked her hips while I reached around with wet fingertips and began to rub at her clit once again. And then I pulled my cock back out a few inches before once again burying it in to the hilt.

The beautiful, naked woman in my arms began to buck herself back at me while I picked up speed. My left hand went up to grasp her shoulder so I could use it as leverage to thrust myself into her pussy from behind. Her own hand moved down to take over rubbing herself, freeing me to shift my right hand to her hips.

Her head bowed forward as she kept up the rhythm, and together my wife and I made morning love until her body tensed up in the moment before climax. She shivered in my grasp, and just as her hips spasmed in release, she let her head loll back.

"Ohhh... Tohm..." Vivienne moaned in that deep French accent as the orgasm swept across her entire body.

My eyes flew wide open. My hips jerked back, and a cold tingle ran up my spine. _Vivienne? What the-? Where am I?_

My cock didn't go off. At the razor's edge before my own climax, I pulled out of my lover's still twitching pussy and rolled onto my back. Immediately my erection started to deflate.

_My wife isn't here. This is our home, and this is our bed, but Taylor isn't here._

The next thing I knew, Vivienne was looming over me, rocking my shoulder with concern. "Tohm? Tohm? What's wrong?"

As I blinked the tears from my eyes, I realized that I had rolled away from her and curled up into a fetal position. My chest muscles ached from the tension of my wracking sobs. And without meaning to, Vivienne was digging her fingernails into my shoulder with her concern.

Without a word, I pushed myself off the bed, quickly marching into the attached Master Bathroom. I dropped my elbows onto the countertop and blasted cold water out of the faucet, taking great scoops to splash my face over and over again until I could force myself to stop crying.

_Get a hold of yourself!_ I ordered.

"Tohm!" Vivienne was suddenly behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her entire body against my back. I felt her cheek against my shoulder blades. And reflexively, she stroked my belly with her right hand. "What's wrong?"

"Leave me," I barked rather harshly.

"But Tohm..." she pleaded.

*"GO!"* I yelled into the mirror.

Terrified by the intensity of my voice, Vivienne picked her head up. For a moment, it was as if she remembered that my name was NOT "Tom", and she stared back at my reflection wondering who the hell I really was. And still with that frightened/confused look in her eyes, she grabbed a house robe off a nearby hook and then fled from the room.

****

After finally arriving downstairs, I went first to find Vivienne. She was in the Family Room, having coffee with Evania. She was still dressed in the robe, although at some point, she'd returned to her room to don panties and a camisole underneath. When I appeared in the archway, my young girlfriend looked at me with both eagerness and some fear, unsure of what I was going to do next.

Evania, on the other hand, immediately stood, ready to serve me on command. Looking to her first, I gestured my valet to relax and sit back down. And after she did so, I returned my attention to Vivienne.

"Come with me, my dear," I stated softly.

Still a little tense, but encouraged by my tone, Vivienne put her coffee down on the saucer and then set the whole thing onto a nearby table. And then she stood and came forward, latching onto my arm when I offered it to her.

Seeking a small bit of privacy, I led her down the hallway to my office. When we entered and she saw the imposing mahogany desk and formal setting, she gave me a fearful look, as if she'd been sent to the principal's office for a lecture or something. I just smiled at her warmly, trying to put her at ease, and then led her to the couch.

We sat down together and I held onto her hand. Vivienne was staring at our hands, and I reached my other out to lift her chin so she would look at me. And without another word, I leaned in for a short, sweet kiss.

I felt the tension roll off her shoulders. That kiss had done more to relax her than any words I could have spoken. And when I pulled back, there was a happy smile on my darling's face.

"I'm sorry," I apologized. "What happened this morning was not your fault."

"What DID happen?"

I closed my eyes, briefly returning to the moment and reliving the turmoil I'd gone through upon realizing where I was and who I was with. "It's... complicated. I've been away from home for a long time, and I think I felt pretty disoriented when I woke up in that bed next to you. I... uh... I..."

_How can I tell her that I believed I was making love to my wife, and that I was horrified to find out I was fucking her?_

"Vivienne, I-"

"It is okay... John," she interrupted me, squeezing my hand and furrowing her eyebrows at the use of my real name, as if she had to concentrate to do so. "I understand."

I read the look in her eyes. Vivienne didn't understand, but she was trying to let me off the hook. All she wanted was to see me happy, and the details weren't all that important to her. I gave her a little smile at the reprieve. "Thank you."

She smiled wider. "I love you."

I nodded. "I know."

Sensing that nothing more needed to be said, she leaned into me, kissing me once again. I felt a surge of energy pushing through me as her passion flowed from her lips to mine, and my arms went up to hold onto her sides. A moment later, she pulled her face away, rubbing her cheek against mine. And in a breathy voice, she whispered into my ear, "I know you did not finish inside me this morning. Let me take care of that for you."

Her hand was immediately at my crotch, and sure enough, I began to thicken in her grasp. She pulled back until our faces were inches apart, a twinkle in her soft brown irises and a smirk on her red lips. She kissed me again while her hands fished my turgid cock out through the flap of my lounge pants. And then she backed away, sinking to her knees in front of me.

It didn't take long. For a few exquisite moments, I completely forgot where I was or what else was going on in my life. Nothing existed but the gorgeous young woman with my dick imbedded in her throat and the pleasure she was giving me. And as I found my release, the hot, creamy spunk flooding out of me, my mind also found a few measures of peace.

****

Dorothy had breakfast at the ready when Vivienne and I returned to the central area of the house. We cruised by the family room and picked up Evania on the way to the dining table. And to my surprise, I found that Cassandra was standing directly behind my seat.

I motioned for my girls to take their seats, and Vivienne and Evania both moved to sit down. But Cassandra remained at attention behind my chair. With a deferential expression on her face, staring downward and not at me, she pulled the chair out and waited for me to sit.

I arched an eyebrow, but she didn't respond. Such a gesture was a little out of character for her. After all, despite our employer-employee status, I never treated Cassandra like a servant. But then I also knew that my longtime personal assistant was given to defining the parameters of our relationship as SHE saw fit, and if she wanted to do this for me, then so be it. So I sat down and let her slide me in to the table, and Cassandra returned to her seat.

Vivienne and Evania took their seats in order to my right, and we settled in for breakfast. But as I looked at the four people occupying a table for ten, the empty seats were fresh reminders of the things I had lost. Of the _seven_ people who used to occupy the spots in front of me, only Cassandra was left. Yeah, Vivienne and Evania were taking up two chairs, but this clearly wasn't the same home it had once been. I blinked just once, and suddenly the table was filled with the ghosts of the family that wasn't here anymore. And feeling a sudden tension in my throat, I realized that I didn't want to be here right now.

Abruptly, I pushed my chair back and stood up. Melissa, the maid, was just entering with a tray of food. She stopped in surprise at my sudden movement, but I quickly turned and strode out of the room without another word.

"Jonathan?" Cassandra asked in concern, at about the same time Evania chirped, "Mr. Kwong?" and Vivienne called, "Tohm?"

I didn't answer, quickly striding out and down the hallway, shaking my head to dislodge the vision of my lost family at the dining table.

But leaving didn't help. I started upstairs before remembering what it was like to wake up next to my new French girlfriend in _Taylor's_ bed. I thought of Ashlyn's old room that Vivienne's suitcase was in, and I thought of the nursery at the end of the hall.

Turning away from the stairs, I headed down the guest wing. But then I just remembered the women I'd been very fond of and how one by one, they'd each moved on with their new lives. The billiards room reminded me that Mia was living with a new boyfriend in Seattle, and I hadn't seen her in over a year. The guest rooms told me Kate was engaged. And the gym prompted the knowledge that Rebecca was already married, and we'd already missed her wedding.

Even my office was the place where I'd held Olivia down and taken from her what didn't belong to me.

Everything in the house was a relic of my past: the mistakes I'd made, the life I'd lost, and the family that was no longer mine. It was the finest house money could buy, state of the art, and filled with all the trappings of luxury: movie room, indoor pool, and advanced technological conveniences. Every square inch cost thousands of dollars. And there was plenty more money where that had come from.

But all that luxury couldn't keep my family together. All the money in the world hadn't made me happy. And three months ago, unable to cope with what my life had become without the people that mattered most to me in it, I'd come to the point where I just couldn't face another day in this place. Then, I'd literally packed up and left. I didn't tell anyone. I got myself a new identity, new papers, and a way of drawing money from my accounts without anybody tracking me, and I'd gone away.

I wanted to do it again.

But to what end? Three months drinking ouzo and banging nubile twentysomethings hadn't cured me. I was right back here again, right back in this same home, wondering how to move forward. Jetting off to Europe hadn't solved anything. And I had the same questions now as when I'd left: How could I get my life back together? How could I once again become the Jonathan Kwong I used to be?

Believe it or not, my answer lay in the television.

At some point, I did end up going upstairs. I didn't go into my bedroom, not back to Taylor's bed still mussed with the sexual fluids of my morning coupling with Vivienne. But I did end up on the cuddle chair with the remote in hand.

Scratch that. I moved over to the couch. The cuddle chair reminded me too much of my wife. And I tried my damndest to let my mind go blank as 82 inches of plasma-driven entertainment filled my brain. Of course, the weekend edition of Celebrity Sightings just HAD to be on. Screw that. Too bad it wasn't football season yet.

I was just about to change the channel when a familiar image showed up on the screen. I actually DID change the channel before my brain pinged and changed the channel back. And as my shoulders sagged, all I could do was groan, "Oh, they did NOT."

But of course, they did.

The image was that of my private Gulfstream jet. There was video of the jet taxiing into the hangar at our private airfield. And in the next clip, the black limo was pulling out, followed by another clip of the limo turning into the Montauk estate. The text across the bottom of the screen read: Jonathan Kwong, Back in Town?

The breathy young reporter was chattering something, but I wasn't paying much attention. She was mostly recapping the Jonathan and Taylor Saga that had died out several months ago. There was of course the theft of four billion dollars, followed by the rape allegations and SEC sanctions. Media activity had immediately spiked following JJ's death, and paparazzi had hounded us through my family's meltdown. And then I knew there'd been fresh interest after I'd pulled my disappearing act.

Now they were onto me again.

Fuck.

I reached out and quickly stabbed the intercom. "Find Cassandra. Get her up here," I barked. And then settling deeper into the backrest, I steepled my fingers and glowered at the TV screen, wishing I could somehow vaporize every paparazzi reporter in existence.

Cassandra arrived not two minutes later. She had a plate of food on it, just in case I wanted breakfast after all. But I just gestured for her to sit as I rewound the video feed, since my high-tech DVR automatically recorded every single channel available for the past 24 hours.

We watched the segment in silence, Cassandra at rapt attention and me soaking in details I'd been too angry to catch the first time around. The whole thing was over in six minutes, and when it was done, I stood up and immediately began pacing around the room.