Tom Billionaire Ch. 08

"I love you," I growled through gritted teeth. "You KNOW that. And it's because I love you that I won't let you do this."

"I want to," she whimpered, blubbering as her tears were now overrunning her upper lip and into her mouth.

"No you don't. You're trying to force yourself into doing it for me. But I know you. I love you and I've always known you. And this is not the time. Maybe someday... when you're ready. But now is not the time. And it's because *I* love *you* that I won't let you do this."

"I need to please you..." she whispered, as if her voice were deserting her. Cassandra had gone deathly still, her eyes losing their fire. And she stared at me with a rather haunted expression. "I'm failing you now. I'm failing you again... And you're going to leave me..."

Her voice trailed off and I felt the strength leaving her bones. It was Cassandra's greatest fear: failing me. And in that, she wasn't a normal companion.

Taylor loved me passionately. She had her faults and bad impulses. We had our fights and our disagreements. But Taylor's biggest fear was betraying me. Even through our open relationship, with Taylor seducing other men and me screwing half of her model friends, we trusted each other. She'd lost my trust when she first sold me out to the paparazzi to advance her career five years ago. She'd been building it back ever since, but there was always that fear of losing it again.

Cassandra, on the other hand, feared failure more than anything else. She had a job, a job she wouldn't relinquish even now. She believed herself responsible for many of the details in my life, from my financial portfolio to the way my household was run to the harmony of the women who shared my bed. She wasn't scared of making me angry, or making a decision that she thought I might disagree with. She downright did the opposite of what I wanted on several occasions, employer-relationship be damned. She did it because she thought she knew what was best for me, and she was stubborn enough to stick to her principles even if it meant pissing me off. Usually, she was right. And those end results justified her decisions. To have given into what *I* (the illogical, impulsive _male_) wanted would be to fail me.

And she felt like she was failing me now. For whatever reason, Cassandra had gotten into her head that letting me buttfuck her was a requirement of her duty. For me to not do so would mean that *she* was letting *me* down.

"Cassandra, look at me," I insisted. Her eyes had dropped down in her misery as she threatened to collapse, and I struggled to hold her head up. "*Look at me!*" I commanded.

Instantly, I felt a little strength come back to her legs. And her eyes were open wide and staring at me again.

"This is NOT about sex. Do you understand? If I just wanted to get off, there are three other women here who could do that just fine."

"See! You don't NEED me," she whimpered, starting to cry again.

"That's not true! I need you. I WANT you. But not like this! Don't you get it? I want to be *happy*, Cassandra. I don't just want to get laid."

"Fucking makes you sooo happy. Fucking ASSES makes you even happier."

"And seeing you in pain does the exact opposite!"

She whimpered and collapsed. I'd stopped holding her up, and belatedly tried to catch her. Fortunately, we were close to the bed and ended up falling half onto it. After a second or two of panic, we both realized that we weren't falling any further, and she buried her face in my chest.

I sighed as I wrapped Cassandra up in my arms and held her. Once again, it was so strange to feel her so vulnerable. Ice Queen intimidator aside, Cassandra had been my pillar of strength for five years. I NEVER had to comfort her; she was always there to comfort me. She was the most loyal and dependable personal assistant imaginable: steadfast, stubbornly resolute, and supremely confident at all times.

And yeah, it didn't hurt that she was drop-dead gorgeous.

For years, I had been in awe of her. She was like a super-being, almost too perfect. She was intelligent, focused, and driven to accomplish her goals. She was a phenomenal lover, completely absent of jealousy, and asked for almost nothing in return. She was a fantasy.

But it turned out there was a human beneath that perfection. She kept her emotions tightly bottled up, but there WERE emotions in there. And for better or worse, there was no closing them up again.

Bob Sharpley had broken her. The four billion dollar theft was nothing. It had hurt her sense of protecting my family's financial future, but she'd simply worked that much harder to get it back, succeeding in the end. The loss of my son had focused her on keeping me sane, so that I could work on keeping Taylor sane. *I* had failed in that, but Cassandra had not failed me. Sure, I'd changed my name and jetted away to Europe, but she let me go. And even though she'd missed me terribly, though it had hurt her so much to be away from me, she'd deliberately 'not found' me, giving me time to heal.

But Bob Sharpley had broken her. She'd survived my three month absence. She'd survived my return to New York and subsequent departure to live in Manhattan as Tom Eriksen. But the woman who was kidnapped and taken to Marseille had not come home.

"You're hurt, Cassandra," I said quietly, still holding her head against my chest. "You've denied it long enough. You've told yourself it never happened... but it did. You were raped, and you're hurting. But we're going to get through this."

Her breathing slowed, and her sobbing moans faded away. She nuzzled her face deeper into my chest, firm enough and for long enough that I worried she was suffocating. But I simply stroked her back and held her tightly, trying to impart with my entire being that *I* would be *her* rock. "I'll always be here for you."

"That's just it," she sniffled. She took a deep breath, and then in a quietly serious voice, she stated, "It's not the rape. I can push that to the back of my mind. I can handle that."

She said it with such confidence that I couldn't doubt her. And not quite so sure of myself all of a sudden, I asked hesitantly, "Then what is it?"

Cassandra exhaled, hard enough for me to feel the heat through my shirt. "I nearly lost you..." she whimpered softly. "I nearly lost you..."

"When?"

"I saw you gone. I KNEW you were gone. I saw him standing above you, holding the gun in your face. I closed my eyes; I couldn't bear to watch. But I did watch. I watched him pull the trigger. I watched you DIE." She pulled her face back and looked up at me, her lower lip quivering.

I saw the absolute _*terror*_ in Cassandra's eyes. Even now, weeks after it had happened, she was reliving the moment. Urgently, I held her with one arm and stroked her face with my hand, brushing tears away from her cheeks. "I'm right here," I insisted firmly. "I'm right here!"

"I can't lose you again, Jonathan..." she whimpered, more tears flowing. "I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me! You'll never lose me!" I practically hissed, wrapping her up against me tightly and rocking our bodies back and forth on the bed.

She kept crying for a long few minutes. I kept repeating that I was right here, that I wasn't going anywhere, and that she wasn't going to lose me no matter what.

I didn't know if I was getting through to her. She just kept crying and crying and crying. All I could do was keep reassuring her that we would be together forever. I'd already promised I would never leave her again. And I meant it.

At some point, the crying stopped. I kept rocking her for a while longer, making sure that she wasn't going to start up again. And when I finally peeked down at my chest, her eyes were closed in blissful sleep.

Emotionally spent, I was more exhausted than if we'd climbed up and down the full height of El Capitan a dozen times. So exhaling a great sigh, I closed my own eyes and let myself drift away.

****

Consciousness seeped into my brain slowly. Through my still-closed eyelids I could see the red haze of morning light. And as various nerve endings awoke along my body, I felt a familiar sensation.

Someone was sucking on my dick.

Before the sandy crust would allow my eyelids to open, I smiled and reached up a hand to touch Cassandra's head. Under my fingers, I felt the silky smoothness of her hair cascading around her ears and down towards her shoulders.

In my slumber, I forgot about the drama just before our nap. As I cracked my eyelids open, all I could think of was how beautiful she looked, even more so because her mouth was stretched wide by my cock.

But then it all came back to me, and I know a pained expression spread across my face because she winced with her eyes and then pulled off me. Shaking her head, she quickly stated, "I'm better now."

"Really?"

She nodded and then sighed, still stroking my shaft with her left hand. "Please... let me serve you."

I grimaced, debating with myself whether to let her do it. It wasn't that I hadn't fantasized about cornholing the bosomy blonde bombshell. But to do so still felt inherently _wrong_ to me. "You know how I feel about women doing something sexual for me because of 'obligation'."

"I want to please you."

"You please me just by being with me."

"But I can't do anything more than this for you right now." She frowned, still stroking my cock.

Just then, a new idea popped into my head. I still remembered the sight of my busty assistant with her polo zipped all the way down during rock climbing. I still remembered her standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel, with her big tits standing up above the towel line and the deep valley of her cleavage calling to me. Cassandra was naked now, and I reached up for her shoulders. "Sure you can," I replied with a grin. And then I delicately took hold of her and directed her body until I could bring her swaying tits down on top of my erection.

Cassandra looked down at my banana bent prick splitting her breasts, and then glanced up at me with a new light in her eyes. "Is this what you want?"

I licked my lips, ogling those pendulous melons that were so big, ripe, and round that it really wasn't fair to the lingerie models of the world. "_Oh, yeah,_" I nodded wolfishly. "I told you five years ago we could do this anytime you wanted."

She grinned, and then with a renewed energy, slid back off the bed and grabbed my ankles, pulling me to the edge of the mattress. Then, she had me sit up while she knelt on the floor. And taking hold of her own chunky breasts, she enveloped my meat and bent her head to lick at the crown. "Fuck my tits... _sir_..." she purred.

I'd been pent up all morning, teased and flirted with and groped in the shower. Cassandra even retrieved a bottle of scented oil, rubbing her own boobs so that I had a smooth gliding tunnel of titflesh to rut in. Her hooters were big enough to completely envelop my cock, surrounding me in a wet warmth just like her pussy. Only this way, she also had a mouth waiting at the back end, with an agile tongue and sucking lips that simply could not be replicated by her loins.

"Fuck my tits..." she kept humming. "Take your pleasure from my body. Feel my massive mammaries cocooning you, welcoming you, embracing you. They're yours. They'll only ever be yours. And you can fuck them whenever you want."

"Oh, ggg-gawd, Cassandra," I groaned, already nearing my release.

"I'm so hot and horny for you, Jonathan. It's such a turn on to kneel before you, to suck your big dick into my mouth, and to feel your thick manhood rubbing my pliant breasts. Look at my nipples. See how thick and plump they are? I'm so turned on by this. I wish we could be fucking, I really do. But right now I'll settle for a big load all over my face. Can you give me that?"

"Fuck! Fuck!" I grunted, speeding up. Cassandra had never been a very vocal lover. She hummed and moaned with the best of them, but she wasn't usually a dirty talker. Was this a new side of her coming out? Was this the wanton sexpot who'd always been buried beneath my assistant's impenetrable armor? She was letting herself go, giving into her own emotions and urges. And I couldn't be more thrilled.

"Fuck my tits! That's it, squeeze my breasts for me! Feel how firm and yet supple they are! They're yours! Take them for your pleasure! I live to serve you... _sir_... And all I ask is that you give me a big, creamy, load of- AAAHHH!"

Cassandra started howling as the first jet of spunk splattered against the underside of her chin. She arched her neck, throwing her head back while squeezing down on her own boobs and humping rapidly, trying to jack me as if her tits were hands. Another ribbon sprayed out from my tip, catching her right in the throat. She humped me with her breasts a few more times, and then pulled back to take me into her actual hands. And then bending her face down, my devoted personal assistant closed her eyes and pumped out the rest of my spunk right against her forehead so that trails of creamy jism began to trickle over her nose and eyelids.

When I was done, all I could do was groan and collapse onto my back. Cassandra still held my dick in her hands, absentmindedly continuing to stroke it. But at last, she cracked her eyelids open and scraped away the globs of spunk trying to paint them shut.

"I love you, Jonathan," she said with full, heartfelt emotion, looking right into my eyes as soon as she was able. "I want to be with you forever, and I'll do anything necessary to make sure of it."

Somehow, she was even more intoxicating with my cum all over her face. "I know," I replied confidently.

She winced briefly, then steeled herself and added, "Someday, I'm even going to give you my ass. I'm not ready yet, I know it. But... I will. I love you, and because I do... I _will_ do it."

I took a deep breath and then sat back up, moving myself close to her. I cupped her cheek, not caring if I got a little cum on my fingers. And I stared her right in her sky blue eyes. "I love *you*, Cassandra. I want to be with *you* forever. And because I do..." I reached back and patted her ass. "You'll never have to."

****

Everyone was up by the time Cassandra and I emerged, fully dressed and cleaned up after our time alone. My assistant was beaming as we came out, grinning from ear to ear like a cat that got the canary. And her smile was so infectious that the other three girls couldn't help but smile with her.

I decided right then and there that "alone time" was exactly what all of my girls needed. We'd been traveling for over a week now, spending all our time in a big group of five that reminded me of traipsing around the Mediterranean. Then, I'd been running to escape my life and keep myself distracted. And I'd also had precious little "alone time" with any of the girls until Vivienne started monopolizing me for herself.

I'd also had precious little "alone time" on THIS trip. After the orgy at Mount Rushmore and then sharing the one big tent on the river rafting trip, I'd pretty much spent the past week and a half with a minimum of two women by my side at all times. Sure, it was fun to get the attention from multiple sides, but I wasn't getting the emotional connection with each of them that only happened when everyone else was out of the room.

Vivienne, of course, was overjoyed when I reminded her of my promise to spend the evening alone with her. And both Taylor and Evania were quite pleased when I told them that they'd be next. Evania tried to wave me off, saying that it was unnecessary for me to leave the others. But I could tell she was secretly looking forward to it anyways.

First, however, I had my date night with Vivienne. Yosemite Valley was a little short on five-star restaurants, being a National Park and all. But neither of us minded as the hotel concierge arranged a picnic basket for us and the two of us walked hand in hand out into the open meadow just behind the hotel. As nightfall approached, the entire meadow was shrouded in shadow and empty of any other occupants. But Half Dome soared above us, the sun's final rays making the big flat surface light up with an amber glow. And after finding a good spot, I took off my backpack and started laying out the large picnic blankets that would keep us comfortable on our own private island, a clearing in the middle of the long grass.

"That's quite a sight, isn't it?" I gestured up to the dome before bending over and fishing out the bottle of wine with two glasses.

"It's fantastic!" Vivienne enthused, in awe of the vastness around us. "There are some nice places in France. But I have NEVER seen anything like this!" She stared upward, looking to the left at the Royal Arches and North Dome. I put the half-full wine glass into her hand, and she took it without looking back at me. She sipped at it absentmindedly, glancing away to the right towards Glacier Point. And only after another minute did she finally look back at me.

"Sorry..." she blushed. "I am finally alone with you, and I am looking at the rocks."

"Don't be," I chuckled. "I was also enjoying the view."

Vivienne felt my eyes roaming up and down her body, and she laughed prettily. She was attired for a date, in a red dress that was loose around her legs to allow easy movement, but tight around her torso to emphasize her fantastic figure. No jackets were needed in the August humidity. And when she lay down on her side, propping up her head in her palm with her elbow on the blanket, I got a very nice view of her cleavage.

"You take me to the most amazing places," she sighed, her French accent making her statement even more full of wonder. "I always wanted to see America. But all you hear about are New York and Miami and Hollywood. I never thought about going to South... ah... Dakota? Or to river raft in Idaho."

She giggled and shook her head. "Or even golfing. I never thought I would go *golfing*. I was terrible!"

I chuckled. There was only so much to do around Mount Rushmore, so I'd dragged the girls into playing nine holes with me at the local course in Rapid City, South Dakota, for a couple of hours. It was NOT what one typically expected of a jet-setting billionaire playboy. "You did okay."

She shook her head. "I was *terrible*. It was fun, but so frustrating!"

I chuckled.

"And now here..." She swept her hands across the sky. "It's... it's not what I expected when you brought me to America."

There was an extra hitch in her voice when she said that, and I set down my wine glass and leaned forward. "What *did* you expect?"

Vivienne had also set her drink down, on a flat board between us meant to provide a stable surface so our drinks wouldn't spill. She traced the rim of the wine glass with her finger nervously and shook her head. "Nothing, really."

"No, I mean it. What did you expect?"

She looked up at me, a twinkle in her soft brown eyes. "I expected the billionaire, I suppose, like you were in Greece: Expensive restaurants, luxurious hotels, discothèques and parties."

I grinned. "We've done some of that." I pointed back to the Ahwahnee. It wasn't the Bellagio, but it was still a very nice hotel and we had the most expensive suite available.

"Oh, I know, I know," she nodded. "But we also camped in a tent for most of last week. And we have not actually been to a discothèque since Mykonos."

"Are you saying you want to go dancing?" I arched an eyebrow.

She shook her head. "No, no... Please, I am not complaining. I am just saying it is different."

"Well what do you want to do? Tell you what: YOU pick our next destination, anywhere in the world! We've been hopping around the U.S. for a while, gradually moving westward. It's been a while since I got to see you in a bikini. Hawaii, maybe? And I haven't taken you to Asia yet. You have NOT tasted sushi until you've had it in Japan. Or maybe-"