Tom Billionaire Ch. 07

Edward actually hugged me, and so did Dorothy. Ashlyn, Charlotte, and even Karl were quite excited to see us safe and sound. Kaitlyn cried. And Jeff gave me a "manly" pat on the back. Plus, in general, *everyone* circled around Cassandra to tell her how happy they were that she was okay.

And then I got to scoop up Joey as my little girl sprinted from her mother's arms over to me for a big hug.

But the rounds of "welcome backs" faded. As terrifying as the situation had been, we'd only been gone for a couple of days. And the impromptu party started to break up.

I'd been carrying Joey on my left hip for a while, and she got antsy to be put down and go in search of other things to entertain her. I let her go, and Evelyn quickly took the almost 2-year-old over to the family room and her toys.

After waving goodbye, I headed for the stairs, fully expecting Cassandra and Taylor to come with me. I was tired, and so were they. And I already had visions of the three of us taking a big shower to clean up and then falling into bed.

But it was not to be. Taylor waved me on, saying, "Go ahead, Johnny. We girls need to talk first."

"Huh?" I frowned, giving my wife big puppy dog eyes.

She chuckled and shooed me away, huddling together with Cassandra and Ashlyn. "It's barely 5. Don't worry; we'll both be up there soon. Take a shower and relax or something."

Bad memories of the last time Taylor had come home popped into mind. I'd wanted her to come to my bed, but she'd chosen to bunk with Ashlyn instead. "Do you promise you're coming?" I asked with worry. I still remembered not only how she wouldn't come to my room the night before flying off to Paris, but how she wouldn't let me touch her even during the four-way on the plane.

Taylor's eyes twinkled and a knowing grin spread across her face. "Yes, I promise. Now go!"

I pouted, but nodded. And in the end I went upstairs alone.

I entered the Master Suite alone. I stripped and went into the bathroom alone. And I went and took a shower alone.

For all the reports of me collecting a "harem" around me, I most certainly was not a harem-master. It wasn't in my nature to dominate the women around me, as much as we might enjoy some role-playing from time to time. Tom Eriksen had been a little more demanding, never forgetting that HE was the billionaire and all the girls around him either employees or "guests" whose price for going on the joyride was being at his sexual beck and call.

But I wasn't Tom Eriksen anymore. I was Jonathan Kwong again, and I didn't have that kind of dominant relationship over Taylor, Cassandra, or any of the other girls from my past. I might've been able to fetch Evania or Vivienne to come to me for company, but at the same time, I didn't want to. Taylor had promised me she would be coming soon. As intimately comfortable as she'd been with me ever since reuniting in Marseille, we hadn't ACTUALLY gotten back together. And I didn't want to do anything to screw that up.

Fortunately for me, Evania didn't share that same concern.

I emerged from the bathroom completely naked, as was my custom. I'd dried off completely, but didn't need the veil of modesty that a towel around my waist would have provided; not in the comfort of my own home. It was habit. I didn't even bother to really look ahead of me as I meandered over to my walk-in closet, looking for something comfortable to lounge in until my ladies returned. So it was a great shock to me when I found a gorgeous, stacked Greek brunette standing in my way.

"The green? Or the blue, sir?" my valet inquired, casually oblivious to my nudity. She held up a clothing ensemble on hangars in each hand, a cotton button down in a greenish plaid with matching pants in her left hand, and a short-sleeved blue shirt in an ash pattern with coordinating blue-gray pants in her right. "Or something else entirely?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked in surprise.

She arched an eyebrow and looked down, as if she'd somehow disappointed me. "My job, sir."

For four months, Evania had helped me dress. Scratch that, for three and a half months, she'd helped me dress. The first two weeks, she was really more travel agent/assistant. But after I'd started calling her my valet, she'd looked up the term and gotten a serious kick out of the traditional "dressing assistant" definition of the role. And it didn't hurt that dressing me usually involved copping some feels or tumbling into bed before I got fully dressed.

I exhaled, feeling bad. "I know. I'm sorry," I apologized.

She looked up at me with big, liquid dark brown eyes. "You have no need to apologize to me, sir. I am here to serve you." And without another word, she dropped both outfits onto the floor and knelt at my feet. Reaching her hands up, she grasped my naked buttocks, and exhaled a hot steam of breath against my semi-rigid cock. "You're exhausted. And I don't believe you've had relief in *days*."

"Ungh," I groaned, feeling my balls twitch. She was right. With the kidnapping and all, I hadn't gotten off since Taylor's impromptu foursome on the flight to Paris. And as my valet took my cock in hand, I felt myself growing rapidly.

"Evania..." I breathed, worried about Taylor.

"Shh..." she soothed. "This won't take long. I am only here to assist you." And then she slurped my cock into her warm mouth.

"Unnnghhh," I groaned again, this time far more gutturally. I could feel my dick had completely rigidified, fully elongating inside her mouth with a few inches sticking out.

Evania rolled her eyes up, staring adoringly up at me while she began to bob her head back and forth, taking more and more of me into her with each breath. I felt my cockhead nudging against her throat. And just before I got in, she pulled off me completely and asked, "Please tell me... please, sir?"

I knew what she wanted. Feeling a little of Tom Eriksen coming back to me, I grinned and ordered, "Pare mou mia pipa."

Her teeth shone bright white, and then were quickly tucked away as she sucked me in all the way to the root, taking my cock deep in her throat until her lips were sealed up around the base of my shaft. And still staring right into my eyes, she hummed, letting her throat muscles vibrate exquisitely around my sensitive glans.

"Oh... FUCK, Evania," I growled. I slid my hands into her hair, feeling her thick curls flowing through my fingers. I held her head in place and thrust a couple of times, fucking her face for my pleasure and knowing she enjoyed it just as much as me.

"Mmm..." she mumbled for the few moments when my dick was NOT in her throat, catching her breath and letting her eyes sparkle to express her delight. Pulling back, she let her lips and tongue dance around my head, lavishing attention on its sensitive nerves while her right hand clenched around the rod, jacking me with my favorite corkscrewing motion.

"Efharisto..." I moaned, thanking her for this brief respite after all my anguish. "Efharisto..."

"No... thank you," she moaned, staring up at me. "Just let it go. You know I want it. Let it go for me."

She'd promised it wouldn't take long, and she was right. After only a few short minutes, I felt my balls begin to boil. And with her fingertips caressing them, Evania felt it too.

"Give it to me," she moaned, parking her face just beneath my cockhead while she continued to stroke my shaft. "Let it go."

I groaned, seeing her pretty face in prime explosion distance. So often, Evania sucked me to completion inside her mouth, swallowing every drop I had to give. Now, she was presenting herself for a facial, eagerly anticipating my creamy load to splatter all over her skin. And knowing how much spunk I'd probably built up over the past couple of days, I breathed deeply and got ready to let fly.

"Fuuuuuck!" I roared as I felt the first contractions begin. My dick retracted backwards, like a pirate-ship cannon blasting away. And from the tip of my cock came a jet of semen that spurted out as if from a fire hydrant.

"Gahhh!" Evania gasped as she was coated from forehead to right cheek, a thick line of cream settling onto her face.

"Ungh!" I grunted as the second jet took off, aimed by her still-stroking hand.

"Yes!" she squealed, another line splashing diagonally across her nose.

"Ngh! Ngh! Ngh!" A third, then fourth, and fifth spray launched out of me, a little bit even going into her gaping mouth. But most of my cum wound up on Evania's face, a few strings in her hair, even. And with gleeful abandon, she stroked me with both hands, pulling more and more cum out until she was absolutely covered from hairline to chin.

And then with my legs buckling, I actually fell flat on my ass to the floor.

Giggling, Evania clapped her hands and tried to blink to make sure she could still see. Her left eye was painted shut, and she had to drag a finger across the lid to clear it enough to open. She popped the finger glob of jizz into her mouth, humming as happily as when she had my cock in her mouth. And then she sat back on her heels, catching her breath from the momentary exertion.

"You are a mess," I chuckled, surveying my Jackson Pollock painting across her face.

"Then I am perfect. Efharisto."

"You don't need to thank ME," I chuckled.

"But I do. You have given me what I wanted for myself, and also to make my friend happy."

"Huh?"

Evania grinned, then stood up gingerly, tilting her head back so that my thick, stringy cum didn't fall off her face. She also held an open palm beneath her chin, waiting to catch anything that did fall. "I am going to go visit Vivienne now. I know that having your cum on my face for her to lick off will cheer her up. It is temporary, I know. But it's the least I can do for her."

I arched an eyebrow. "You're going to walk like that from here, downstairs, and over to the guest wing?"

Evania just smiled, not wanting to nod her head and further dislodge my spunk. "Efharisto."

I sighed. Well, even if Taylor saw, I at least knew my wife wouldn't care. So I merely bowed my head to her. "Parakalo."

Evania smiled and then left.

****

I'd learned over the years that I could think much more clearly after an orgasm, and tonight was no different. I'd been pushed into a pretty tense situation with the kidnapping and all, and even rescue hadn't managed to completely relieve me. But now that I lay back across the big bed in my own home, luxuriating in the wonderful, empty-balls feeling post-ejaculation, I found that I'd reached a new level of relaxation. And as my head cleared, so did the decision in my mind: the one between John Kwong and Tom Eriksen.

It wasn't a choice for me any longer: Jonathan Kwong was back. The press knew it. My family knew it. And now I knew it. I was here. I was in my bedroom. And my name was John. Period.

Sure, I could try to run and hide again, to become Tom Eriksen once more. But to what end? Burying my head in the sand and pretending the outside world didn't know who I was would be pointless. The only way I could actually do it would be to disappear completely, to cut off ties with everyone from my past, and not even draw money from my accounts.

But to do so would be completely ridiculous. For one thing, I'd become far too accustomed to my way of life. Even though I hadn't lived TOO outlandishly as Tom Eriksen, especially with the modest apartment in Manhattan, I still wouldn't cut myself off from Jonathan Kwong's billions. And quite simply, there was no way I would once again leave behind those people who were special to me.

I wouldn't leave Cassandra again. Not ever. Plus, given her behavior over the past couple of days, it looked like Taylor was coming back to me as well. I still didn't know where I stood with Ashlyn, but I wouldn't be leaving Joey again. And of course, there was my mom. I couldn't abandon her.

So it was decided: Tom Eriksen was dead.

Standing up, I walked to one of the inland-facing windows. Jeff Lee had built this place so that the Master Suite straddled the house, with windows pointing off in three directions. I could see up the front driveway and on to the front gate. There were spotlights there, no doubt illuminating breathy reporters giving the latest speculations into cameras connected to throngs of inquisitive viewers.

Surprisingly, I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I pictured the stalkerazzi hovering at my front gates. I never would have thought I'd be *relieved* to think of the limo's horn honking and excruciatingly slow crawl forward as we tried to get onto private property without running anybody over (well... without running them over TOO hard).

The fact was: I was used to the camera flashes and tabloid gossip. I knew how to deal with those annoyances. And the idea that I no longer had to really think about the John vs. Tom identity crisis far outweighed the minor nuisances of a few unsavory media types slowing my entry onto the mansion's grounds, or of my travel anywhere else I wanted to go. My mind was free. The decision was final. And I was Jonathan Kwong once again.

Just then, I felt a pair of hands sliding around my chest, and a warm body dominated by two large breasts pressing against my back.

"Doing your introspection thing again?" Taylor asked softly.

I reached my hand up to cover my wife's as she interlaced her fingers over my breastbone. "Do you know how long it's been since I felt you touch me like this?"

She sighed and lay her cheek against my shoulder from behind. "I'm sorry. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

"For me?"

She exhaled slowly. "In Malibu, I was convinced that you were better off without me. Even when you brought me here, or when we were together on the plane, I... I didn't want to touch you, so then it wouldn't hurt so much when I left to go back to rehab again. I thought you'd be happier with Vivienne and Evania, living a brand new life with a fresh start."

My hands tightened their grip, and then I spun in place, making sure not to dislodge Taylor's hands so that we wouldn't break the hug even as I turned to face her. "I don't want a fresh start. I want *you*... here... with me."

Taylor's deep blue eyes flashed as she blinked. "And I want to stay here, with you. I never should have left you."

Gently, I held her cheeks so that I could kiss her. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "*I* never should have left *you*."

"NEITHER of you should have left ME," Cassandra added, drawing my attention to where she was standing just a few feet away.

I smiled at the sight of my gorgeous blonde bombshell. I extended an arm to her, and she eagerly came forward, with Taylor opening up as well so the three of us could share a group hug.

Cassandra and I kissed. Then Cassandra turned her attention to Taylor, pressing their cheeks against one another while tightening their grip on each other's waist before looking back at me. I just stared back and forth at the pair of them, both tall, statuesque beauties: Taylor with edgy, raven-black short hair and dark blue eyes, Cassandra the flowing blonde with sky blue eyes. And I grinned happily.

For everything else going on in my life, these two were my core. They were all I really needed. And now that I had them both back, I couldn't help but grin goofily.

"You okay?" Taylor asked, reaching up and rubbing my forehead. "You look a little crazy."

I smiled, a genuine, honest-to-goodness smile. "Crazy happy."

Taylor beamed right back at me, and I noticed something different in her eyes as well. Her old blue sparkle was back, and I stood up straight to give her the same evaluative look she was giving me. "Are YOU okay?"

She bit her lower lip, looking thoughtful for a moment. Absentmindedly, she briefly reached up and traced the scar on her cheek, and I was reminded of why Taylor had not originally been willing to come home from Malibu: because she had still been a broken woman. But a second later, those brilliant blue eyes came right back to focus on me. "Yeah... I am..."

Taylor may have still been broken. Cassandra had more recently been broken. And I was starting to understand that despite my little vacation from reality, living another man's life, I wasn't exactly fully put back together either.

We wouldn't be fixed in the course of a single conversation. We wouldn't get over all our past traumas with the snap of our fingers. But we would work at it. Together, one step at a time, we would begin again.

The three of us had been shifting a little as we hugged and then separated to really look at each other. I looked at Cassandra, she looked at me. She looked at Taylor, Taylor looked back. Etc. The room's lights were only half-on. It was "mood lighting" for lack of a better term; Evania had set it that way before I'd emerged from the bathroom. There were several overhead recessed lights above us, casting columns of illumination down to the floor. And the whole point of this description is: when Taylor canted her head to the side to smile at me, she was bathed in one of these overhead lights, like they did in that old Touched by an Angel TV show.

For a second, Taylor looked like my angel. Even though we were still broken people, she was with me again. I knew it.

"*We're* back, aren't we?" I asked.

Taylor thought about that for a moment. And then with a little shrug, she nodded. "I guess we are."

"So you're staying? You don't want to go back to Malibu or anything?"

She shook her head slowly. "I'm home. I'm with you."

"What happened to sitting down and having a big talk about starting again?"

Taylor smiled mirthfully. "Ugh... _talk_." She leaned in and tapped the tip of my nose before moving in closer and readying herself for a kiss. "What do you say we just skip the talk and get the three of us into bed, hmm?"

I have the greatest wife in the world.

****

Despite Taylor's words to get us into bed, my ladies still wanted to shower away all their travel grime. And even though I'd already taken a shower, Taylor pulled me into the large enclosure after them, saying, "Fine, you can spend all your time soaping us."

Worked for me.

For the next fifteen minutes, I was like a kid in a candy store, not sure where to go first. Even though Taylor and I had some minor contact during the little foursome on the plane ride to Paris, she'd made it clear I wasn't allowed to deliberately touch her. That wasn't the case now, and I delighted to hear the pleased hum in my wife's voice as I let my hands roam all over her fantastic body for the first time in _months_.

Even though it hadn't been as long of an absence, I similarly delighted in embracing Cassandra. My love for her was augmented by our time apart, along with a very special concern of mine to shower her with affection after what Sharpley had done to her. Indeed, I started to focus rather exclusively on her once I started on that line of thinking, until she giggled and pushed me back toward Taylor.

"But after..." I protested. "I know you need me..."

Even though my words didn't explain much, Cassandra's eyes softened as she realized what I was getting at. She did know me very well. And shaking her head with a smile, she grabbed my hands and put me back onto Taylor. "She needs you, too."

"It's okay," Taylor insisted, pushing me back to the blonde. "After what you've been through, you deserve more of Johnny's focus. Besides, I owe you. When I had my own... incident... with Martin Dean, you were there for me."

"Just like you're here for me now," Cassandra smiled gratefully. And with that, she merely threw herself between us, holding us tightly so that all three of us were hugging together again.

Hugs turned into kisses. Kisses turned into petting. And petting turned into fondling. It was a damn good thing Evania had gotten my rocks off recently. After the long drought without an orgasm, I would have popped off pretty quickly right there in the shower.