Tom Billionaire Ch. 05

"Je t'aime!" I grunted, filling her again and again.

"AAAAAAGHHHH!" she kept screaming, still quaking in climax.

"Je t'aime!!!" I howled, my hips twitching as I fired away the final bursts of my spending. The last drops squeezed out, and with them went all of the temporary energy that love had given me. I felt my spirit leaving me, merging with the soul of the woman beneath me. And already halfway to unconsciousness, I collapsed right on top of her body.

She took my weight with ease. Indeed, she wrapped both arms and legs around me, holding on like she never wanted to let go. And then I felt the tenderness of her kiss once again on my cheek.

Perhaps forgetful after everything we'd just done, Vivienne had kissed my bruised and battered cheek. But instead of feeling pain, my hypersensitive nerves magnified the pleasure of her touch, so that even that soft peck felt like the heavenly caress of an angel. I smiled and said it again. "Je t'aime, mon cheri."

Hugging me fiercely, Vivienne sighed in absolute rapture and answered me, "Je t'aime, mon amour."

****

In the morning, the three of us awoke together in bed, still naked. This time, Evania got more involved in the action, and we rolled around in various three-way positions for the better part of an hour.

In the end, the girls were sixty-nining while I drilled Evania, who was on the bottom. Just before I came for the last time, I yanked myself out and gave Vivienne a cream facial. My pretty French girlfriend giggled while I painted her eyelids shut. And then she murmured in French for Evie to come and lick her clean.

I sat back on my heels, watching the wonderfully erotic sight before me when I realized that this could be a pretty good way to live out the rest of my life. I had no further ambitions or desires for the future. I didn't care for fame or power. Major business deals were a thing of the past. All I really wanted to do was enjoy my day-to-day existence, and I had all the means at my disposal to do so.

A job was completely unnecessary. Thrills from financial wheeling and dealing were overrated, and an unwanted risk. Heck, I didn't even want to do anything that would jeopardize my health or otherwise prevent me from fucking nubile babes at every available opportunity. Skydiving? Yeah right.

I'd gotten it right the first time, when I'd jetted off to Europe: Tom Eriksen belonged on the move, going from port to port, living his life to the fullest. Tom Eriksen didn't need to settle down. He didn't need any serious attachments to anything, or anyone but the girls by his side.

I didn't even need this apartment. New York had been Jonathan Kwong's home. But Tom Eriksen lived out in the _world_.

"Where would you like to go today?" I asked aloud.

Vivienne and Evania were still nuzzling each other's noses and exchanging quick kisses with a bit of tongue to taste what was left of my jism. Together, the girls looked over at me, puzzled expressions on their faces as if they were wondering which of them I'd asked.

As usual, Vivienne took charge. She sat up, her body curved to provide an enticing view from lush bosom to rounded hip. She looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, "I do not think we have been to Broadway yet. Is New York not famous for its plays?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Broadway works. _Wicked_ has certainly been a hit. But honestly, I was thinking a little bit... bigger."

Evania sat up, her instincts telling her that her boss had something specific in mind. "By bigger... you mean... traveling?"

I nodded and then spread my arms wide. "Where do you want to go today? Jamaica? Tokyo? Perhaps somewhere in Australia? Or even go back to Europe somewhere."

The girls' eyes went wide. In shock, Vivienne mumbled, "Sérieusement?"

I grinned and nodded. "Oui-oui."

Vivienne and Evania looked at each other, surprise and excitement both evident on their faces.

I reached forward with both hands, caressing both of their nicely-formed asses. I even buzzed Vivienne's still leaking pussy, causing her to jump with a cute "Eep!"

I grinned. "Anywhere in the world. Anywhere you want to go. And we'll keep going from there. We can hop from here to the Caribbean, to spend a day on the beach. Then we can go down to South America and climb an ancient Incan pyramid. We can fly to Easter Island, with all those big stone heads. And we can head for Asia, hopping around a bit to see the Forbidden City, the Great Wall, and... Ooh, I'd *love* to see you two in authentic Geisha attire. Figure it out, at least the first leg. Evania, I want you to make the arrangements. We'll leave this afternoon, giving everyone a chance to eat and to pack. Meantime, I've gotta pee."

I quickly hopped off the bed and strolled into the bathroom, whistling all the while. The girls waited until I was around the corner before bursting out with their questions to each other. But even though I was out of sight, I was still within earshot, and I chuckled to myself listening to them chatter about whether or not I was serious.

Still, by the time I started pissing, the girls were making plans. The girls were taking a cue from my suggestions, with Jamaica being the first stop on our worldwide tour. And with visions of Vivienne giving me a blowjob while grinning beneath a Jamaican Rastafarian tam hat, I smiled in anticipation of a wonderful, carefree new life as Tom Eriksen.

But it was not to be.

****

I helped myself to a second _pedeh_. The pizza-like breakfast food, topped with sunny-side up eggs, ham, and various spices wasn't exactly Greek, but Evania made them well. And I felt like indulging myself at the moment.

Meanwhile, Evania was back in her room, with her laptop running as she charted her way through our travel plans, rapidly researching the best resort bungalows to stay at and things to do in Jamaica. Vivienne was in our room, (over)packing a suitcase, despite my assurances that we could buy whatever we needed upon arrival.

I was about three bites from finishing my heavenly delicious meal when Vivienne squeaked loud enough to catch my attention. And soon after she was yelling, "Tohm! Tohm!"

Figuring that a bigass spider had scared her, and she was calling on her boyfriend to come squash it, I quickly got up and darted into the bedroom. But instead of a spider, my girlfriend was staring wide-eyed at the LCD television mounted on the wall above our dresser.

The video on the screen was shaky, obviously from a hand-held camera. But there was no mistaking the black TMZ logo watermarked in the lower-left corner. The scene was daytime, on a hillside with an expansive view of a dark blue ocean in the background. There was a security gate, with a guard station in the middle of the paved road leading through to the other side. And there was a small, though elegant, sign that read: "Promises Treatment Center".

The video ended, as I'd missed the bulk of whatever had been shot. But instantly some douchebag with spiked hair and a grunge T-shirt started spouting about the "Jonathan Kwong" sighting in Malibu, exchanging some lame jokes with a middle-aged guy leaning over his cubicle wall. The screen was then filled with still-shots taken from the video, and there I was, driving the beige Ford, with Evania in the passenger seat beside me.

The image wasn't that great, but my face was fully in the frame. And Mr. Douchebag immediately started talking about the blonde-frosted hair and goatee.

_Shit._

"Ever since John's Gulfstream jet returned from who knows where two weeks ago, the blogosphere has been abuzz with unconfirmed John Billionaire sightings," Mr. Douchebag explained. "Now a lot of them are bogus, but there have been a decided number of spottings describing the same goatee and blonde tips seen here. And let's not forget that this video was taken outside _Promises_ in Malibu, where Taylor Brynn is a known patient. So it's official now: John Kwong is back in America, hiding under a rock somewhere."

At that point, I just covered my face with my hands. I still kept peeking through my fingers just in case something relevant was said, but for all the fluff and bullshitting, that video was the only thing they really had. After my four minutes were up, the middle-aged guy zinged his fingers to another "ace reporter" and they started spouting something about Paris Hilton's latest dog.

I turned off the TV.

Over her initial shock, Vivienne now came to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, hugging me from the side. She kissed my cheek and then gave me a worried look. "Are you okay, Tohm?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "This doesn't change anything. If anything, it just reaffirms my need to get the hell out of this country." I turned and patted my girlfriend's hand, giving her a bemused smile. "I'm sorry, cheri. I know there was a lot more of America you wanted to see, but we're going to have to put it off for now."

"I don't care. I will go anywhere, as long as I am with you," she stated with heartfelt emotion.

I smiled and leaned in for a sweet kiss. But just before our lips touched, my cell phone started warbling. Since the only people who had this number outside this apartment were Kaitlyn and Cassandra, I didn't hesitate to pull away and go for the nightstand.

The display told me it was Cassandra. Already I could picture in my head my ever-loyal and efficient assistant stating, 'I just heard the news. What can I do?' And if I didn't have an immediate answer, she would have a half-dozen options to present to me.

I sighed. Leaving Cassandra behind would be one of the true regrets of my life. Taylor had isolated herself and Ashlyn was moving away from *me*, but Cassandra was still waiting... hoping... for her Jonathan to come home.

Save for asking her help to get me in to see Taylor, I'd sort of kept Cassandra out of mind for the past couple of weeks. I didn't want to think about her, because to think about her would make me second-guess this decision to leave and become Tom Eriksen. She had been my right arm for five years. She'd been the one to shepherd me through the transition from ordinary guy to Billionaire, and had been truly *with* me for longer than anyone else, including Taylor.

And I loved her. I loved my Cassandra. And in the mere three seconds it took to walk away from Vivienne to pick up my phone, I found that my hand had started shaking.

_How the hell are you going to tell her you're leaving her again? Didn't you promise you'd never do that?_

She'd coped for two weeks without me, knowing exactly where I lived, and yet she'd given me my freedom. She'd given me this time to work things out without trying to push me or otherwise force me into coming home. She'd coped for three _months_ before that, not knowing where I'd gone and trying desperately to find me.

I believed she'd wait for me forever. If I did leave America, to live my life as Tom Eriksen, never to return, I truly believed she'd stay in Montauk, keeping Jonathan Kwong's home in order, making sure everything would be perfect for the day he returned, never losing faith that he would.

Because she loved me.

And I loved her.

_FUCK._

But I didn't have time to think anymore. The phone was ringing, and I snatched it up. "Cassandra, there's something I have to tell you."

"I am not your assistant, John," a familiar baritone voice replied, layered with menace.

"Bob..." I breathed, not believing I was hearing his voice. "Bob Sharpley."

"Correct." He chuckled grimly. "I rather like this. I was too used to hearing the command tone in your voice, you young whippersnapper. But you're not my boss anymore. *I'm* in charge of this conversation, and I'm holding the only chip that matters right now."

"Jonathan!" Cassandra screamed, but then her voice was immediately muffled.

"Fucking *bastard*!" I raged into the phone. "What have you done with her?"

"I haven't done *anything* to her. Not yet, at least. As for what I *will* do to her, well that depends on how good YOU are at taking MY orders."

The world around me shrank down until nothing existed but me and my phone. And the only sound filling this world was that of Bob Sharpley laughing.