A Billionaire's Life

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The following is a direct sequel to "John Billionaire". I STRONGLY recommend reading that story first as this sequel launches into the narrative with minimal character setup. Also, familiarity with "Jeff Thousandaire" will greatly enhance the reading experience of this story, although it is not a requirement.

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-- CHAPTER 1: The Lifestyle --

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*OCTOBER*

"Uh, uh, uh..." It was a rhythmic chant, deep and breathy.

"Oh, Jonathan! Fuck me..." Those last two words carried a subtle note of urgency. It was a note I had only learned to detect after many, many sexual sessions.

"Fuck me, Jonathan..." she pleaded. "Oh, Jonathan! It's sooo good. Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Despite the staccato syllables, her accent was unmistakable. There was something in the way she pronounced the vowels that had always set my blood on fire.

I grunted and gripped her tight ass harder, pulling her hips to meet me on every thrust. Her long, lithe legs were scissored behind my back, adding to the pumping power while she thrashed about in a sexual frenzy. The lust flared in her blue eyes as she gazed hungrily at me. Her arms flexed and she pulled my torso down to her, crushing my heavy weight against the firm pillows of her large breasts. Her mouth sought out mine and with gaping mouths and darting tongues we added the oral affection to our play.

The physical pleasure was intense, but the emotional connection was what made our lovemaking spectacular. We shared a bond that went beyond romantic love, beyond the traditional definitions of partnership. The fact that my wife was in the next room didn't deter us in the slightest. The fact that my current lover technically worked for me was not a problem either.

She held such power over me. Not only did she have full access to my entire financial portfolio and the ability to issue commands as if they were my own, but she also owned a piece of my soul that could never be relinquished. I trusted her with my very being, and for two years she had never let me down. And I knew she never would.

Our two bodies merged together as the pistoning of my hips sped up, the spasms coursing through both of our bodies as we hurtled towards final climax.

Abruptly, she broke her mouth away from my lips and shrieked out, "I'm cumming! I'm cumming! Cum with me! Cum inside me! CUUUUUM!"

I did just that. My cock felt the internal spasms of her pussy going into overload, an uncoordinated assault of pressure and flowing honey vibrating against my sensitive skin while I slammed myself to the hilt inside of her and exploded. My dick spat out burst after burst after burst of creamy goodness, and the sticky jism lodged itself against her inner walls.

And just as suddenly as our orgasms overtook us, the plush bed beneath us MOVED. The relatively flat surface tilted to the side at an extreme angle and Cassandra's fingernails dug into my naked back while she shrieked again and clung to my body. Gravity rolled us over, our bodies still engaged, and her long blonde hair flew into my face as I suddenly found myself on my back while my dick rapidly shrunk inside of her.

A moment later, we were level once again. And for the next three seconds, I fought to catch my breath and calm down from the momentary panic. After those three seconds, Cassandra was still wrapped around me, panting hard. But she started laughing.

I'd also figured out what had happened. But I wasn't feeling quite as amused as my beautiful personal assistant. I turned my head to the closed door just a few feet away. And at the top of my lungs I yelled, *"TAYLOR!!!"*

It took a few moments before the door slid to the side, disappearing into the wall along its recessed track. Beyond, I could easily see the curved wall of the private jet's fuselage behind her, dotted by evenly spaced little windows. And then Taylor's head popped in, a wicked grin on her face while her deep blue eyes flashed at me. "You called?"

Her delay was just about the amount of time it would take to scurry from the cockpit back to the private bedroom. Still exasperated, I complained, "You told the pilot to roll the plane!"

"Did I?" Taylor mimed her denial in a comically pathetic way, leaving no doubt she was responsible. "He must have misunderstood me."

With adrenaline flaming through my veins, I firmly but gently removed Cassandra's sweaty, naked body from me and started to get up off the king-sized bed in the back of the private Gulfstream jet in which we were riding. Taylor instinctively started backing away from the door, an impish twinkle betraying her mock fear. "I am so gonna get you for this," I growled at my wife.

"No!" she laughed, the first honest word to come out of her mouth. She held her hands up in a defensive posture as I stalked straight at her.

"I'm still sore from this morning!" she whined just before I tackled her across the couch on the left wall of the plane.

Still with the deep growl in my voice, I declared, "Well I'll have to go easy on your sore pussy then." With my heart still racing, my annoyed anger was only fueling my lust. In a way, it was just the way Taylor liked me: stronger, angrier, more in control. And so I continued, "But I haven't taken your ass since yesterday."

Still fully naked, Cassandra had joined us by now and she reached down to hold Taylor's wrists, pinning them behind the brunette's head. Taylor struggled, but only half-heartedly, as I stripped her clothes off. My cock was already re- energizing as my wife's model-perfect body was slowly revealed before me.

It had been a fantastic honeymoon.

***

Taylor giggled as I flipped her over onto her stomach and then ran my hands down her naked back. She shivered slightly as my fingertips ran up and over the curves of her buttcheeks, my index finger lightly dipping into her crack to tease her dark rosebud. And as I pulled stood beside the bed and pulled her hips back towards me, I smiled happily at a perfect day.

Outside, the sun was shining brightly on a wonderful afternoon. The expansive windows of our bedroom offered a panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean, a view Taylor and I both currently had as we were facing in that direction. Somehow, the calm sight of the rolling waves always put us at ease, leading to casually relaxed sessions of lovemaking instead of our more frequent gymnastically-aggressive fucks. And doing it together as newly-married man and wife just made it even more special.

Taylor sighed and let the tension flow out of her as she felt my cockhead pressing against her sphincter. After a moment's hesitation, the ring opened up for me and with Astroglide greasing the way, I slid deep into Taylor's backdoor until my pelvis was pressed tightly against her asscheeks.

Who cared if it was a weekday? Who cared if it was the middle of the afternoon? We were fucking rich and we were still only two days removed from our honeymoon. Besides, we still wanted to explore our newly-built home in Montauk, and especially do a thorough structural analysis of the furniture in the second- floor master suite. What better way was there to spend a day than naked and screwing like rabbits?

We'd obviously tried out the bed. I'd also fucked Taylor over the various lounge furniture and on the floor... and in the shower... and the bathtub... and on the sink... and... well, you get the idea. And now we returned to the bed.

Taylor let out a particularly throaty moan as I shafted her bunghole with a rather deep lunge. She spread all four limbs to the corners of the bed while I leaned over her back and continued pumping my hips rhythmically, my palms spreading her buttcheeks wide to get me as deep as possible.

"Yes, Johnny, yes... Oh, fuuuuuck..." she crooned as I continued to ream my wife out. Glancing to the side, I saw she was now clenching her fists, balling up handfuls of the plush comforter while she also was rolling her hips in time with my thrusts to meet me partway. "Take me honey..."

"Oh, oh, OHHHHH!" Taylor groaned at last, her body going rigid as the orgasm swept through her. I watched her arching her back and twisting it as the sensations rippled up her spine. Her raven-dark hair was flung to the side while she turned her head and I could see the red flush in her otherwise milky white face as she pressed her cheek into the bed and moaned uncontrollably.

At last, the climax passed and Taylor's body went limp. I paused from my pumping to catch my breath, my hard dick still twitching with need inside my wife's anal chute.

"Wow! That was a good one..." a husky but feminine voice commented from off to the side, perhaps ten feet away from us.

"Mmm... I'll say," Taylor responded immediately, her eyes closed but a smile on her face.

I looked to the side to see Cassandra, my beautiful Amazon of a personal assistant, standing just inside the doorway in full business attire. Her long blonde hair was done up to be more efficient than pretty. The grey jacket and cream blouse were conservative but flattering on her tall body, and the matching skirt fell well short of her knees, showing off Cassandra's long, long legs. She wore her eternally-present Bluetooth earpiece and I watched as she put away her Blackberry. Ever since we all returned from the honeymoon, Cassandra had been running around making up for lost work time.

"Are you here for work or play?" I asked Cassandra, tensing my kegel muscles to make my cock twitch inside of Taylor's ass. "We've barely seen you for the past few days."

"Well, there's always more work, Jonathan. But we do have a little bit of time."

I smiled. "Cassandra, lose the outfit," I ordered.

"Yes, sir..." she husked. Her bright blue irises sizzled as her eyelids lowered halfway and her fingers immediately went to work at various fasteners on her business suit.

Meanwhile, I began pumping my cock in and out of Taylor's ass once again, and before I knew it, a completely naked Cassandra was sliding onto the bed, her industrial-strength bra the last article of clothing to be tossed away, freeing her magnificently large, round tits.

"I got spoiled by your devilish tongue on the honeymoon," my blonde assistant said to my brunette wife as she spread her legs to the side and then inched forward. "I've missed it."

"You only have yourself to blame." Taylor levered herself up onto her elbows and then reached her hands out to Cassandra's thighs, pulling the neatly trimmed blonde snatch within range of her mouth. "We keep telling you to cut back on your workload and let someone else do it."

"Yeah," I protested. "Isn't a personal assistant supposed to spend most of her time by my side? We have plenty of brilliant finance guys on the payroll."

"But who's going to manage them? You're holed up in the house refusing to acknowledge that the honeymoon ended two days ago." Cassandra raised her eyebrows at me.

"The honeymoon never ends," I grinned.

Taylor then ducked her head down and ran her tongue along Cassandra's slit from base to clit, and Cassandra's further protests were cut short.

"Ooh," the blonde cooed while her eyelids fluttered. "Taylor, you keep doing that to me and you might just convince me to cut back."

"Please cut back?" Taylor whimpered. "I love your pussy, Cassie. I want it more..."

"Mmm... convince me, sweetie," my assistant answered, hunching her hips forward even more. "Convince me."

By then, Taylor's mouth was too busy at Cassandra's snatch to respond. And with my cock still splitting her ass over and again, she simply had too many sensations running through her to come up with anything more coherent.

But even with the distraction in her face, Taylor was a world-class sex goddess. Almost subconsciously, she gripped and relaxed, squeezed and caressed with her anal muscles in ridiculously pleasurable ways, and soon I found myself at the limits of my control.

And on the other end, her amazing oral talents already had Cassandra on the verge of climax as well. She was helped in that the overworked assistant probably hadn't had an orgasm since last night. But the end result was that after just a few minutes of orally worshipping Cassandra and rocking her own ass against my crotch, Taylor was rewarded with a burst of cum from both ends.

Cassandra cried out happily as she began squirting her honey into Taylor's face, her entire pelvic area quivering as the ecstasy took over her strong body. And I was grunting with deep satisfaction as I slammed forward and nutted my load deep inside my wife's bowels.

I fired again and again, jerking my hips forward with each shot. Then, after squeezing out the last drop, I pulled back from Taylor's ass and hunched over the bed, planting my hands down to support myself while my wife flipped onto her back and allowed Cassandra to pull her into a tender snuggle. Taylor, the slender dark brunette with the deep blue/violet eyes and big tits, sighed as Cassandra, the taller blonde with the sky blue eyes and bigger tits, wrapped their bodies together in a warm embrace.

I smiled as I looked at these two women I loved and for the zillionth time thought about how incredible my life was. Less than two years ago, I was just another ambitious 27-year-old plodding through life with my minor success. Today, I was still the wealthiest person in the world under 30. Taylor, now my wife, was a famous supermodel who loved me dearly and could never, ever leave me sexually unsatisfied. And Cassandra, ever loyal, would love and protect me for eternity. I was living a dream.

But even dream lives have their obligations. Cassandra picked her head up and looked at me. "We should get you two cleaned up. The Vanderbilt party starts in two hours."

Taylor nodded and slid out from Cassandra's grasp, comfortably sliding her hand into mine as I helped her stand up beside the bed. I sighed, "Do I have to go?"

Cassandra gave me The Look.

"Right, right," I conceded and Taylor leaned as I wrapped my left arm around her naked body. Then with a more hopeful expression, I asked, "Do you still have time to join us in the shower?"

Cassandra smiled and reached for my outstretched right hand, husking, "Of course... sir..."

***

As I reached for the hors d'oeuvres tray, I leaned so that I could whisper into Taylor's ear, "Please get me out of here."

I was all smiles again as I turned to face the sycophantic greaseball standing before me. He was a prominent businessman using the party as an opportunity to try selling me on going into a joint venture with him, and he was greedy enough to focus entirely on me without even glancing once at Taylor's bulging tits in her plunging gown.

I figured Taylor was as good a barometer as any. Her dark hair was swept up into an exceedingly complicated design that nevertheless could not manage to draw attention away from her beautiful face. Elaborate makeup accentuated her already wonderful bone structure without appearing too heavy. And as a high- fashion and lingerie model, Taylor was a jaw-dropping mixture of height, curves, and slenderness that all young women aspired to be. Her barely-there dress made sure that everyone knew it, as well.

And when a straight man is so focused on my money that he doesn't even notice the gorgeous woman on my arm, I know he's too desperate and it would be a bad idea for me to invest in his project.

Given just a brief second, Taylor managed to slice into the conversation, sliding her hand across my chest and moving herself in between me and the pudgy businessman. "I'm so sorry, gentlemen. But honey, I think I need some air."

"Of course, dear." We smiled, and the businessman smiled, and Taylor and I beat a hasty retreat.

"Tell me again WHY I need to come to these things?" I muttered once we were out of earshot.

"You KNOW why. Sure, you've got to deal with the Bruce's of the world," Taylor nodded back where the pudgy businessman was hunting for his next potential prey. "But every now and again you do hear something worthwhile. The last time we came to a party, you walked out with a forty million dollar deal."

I sighed. "It's not like we need the money. Wouldn't it be more fun to just hide out in the new house and christen the rest of the rooms?"

Taylor giggled, her eyes flashing violet. But before she could toss off an innuendo-laced comment, a new voice cut in.

"John! Funny running into you here. How you doin'?"

I turned to see a tall, strikingly handsome blonde man with piercing grey eyes. His chiseled face and cocky demeanor were that of the stereotypical All- American quarterback-type. He had an easy smile and without waiting for a response from me, he immediately turned to my date. "Very pleased to finally meet you in person, Miss Brynn. I'm Martin Dean." He reached for Taylor and with a graceful flourish, bent and kissed the back of her hand.

Taylor blushed and giggled. Dean's charisma was working overtime and she was clearly charmed by his little act. I sighed and rolled my eyes as Taylor said prettily, "Pleased to meet you."

"I want to thank you for gracing us with your presence, Miss Brynn," Dean continued. "There are so many stodgy business-types here that I was afraid I was turning into one of them. But one look at you reminds me that there are far more important things in this life than money."

No one missed Dean's appraising glance over my wife's wonderful figure. Taylor giggled and smiled radiantly. "Call me Taylor."

"I'd be delighted, Taylor."

Taylor's pearly whites glittered in the light. "So how do you know Johnny?"

"Oh, we go way back." Dean waved and shrugged nonchalantly. "Johnny..." he paused to use my name the way Taylor had, "... and I used to work together, back before the big inheritance."

My lips were a tight line. So far he hadn't lied... yet. Marty Dean was two years older than me and a rising star at my old investment banking firm. He'd made VP last year at only 30-years-old. He was the consummate smooth-talker, brilliant with his clients, and an absolute cutthroat asshole who wouldn't hesitate to stab a co-worker in the back if it was in his benefit. Stealing clients, falsifying reports, and just plain spreading nasty rumors were his stock in trade. I was fortunate that I didn't know him all THAT well, but I knew enough to hate the man. Having him steal a 15 million dollar client from me a few years ago ensured that.

"Well, nice to run into you Marty," I cut in bluntly in the middle of his latest sweet- talked comment about my wife's legs. I seized Taylor's hand in my own. "Honey, I think I need some air," I stated firmly.

Taylor looked undecided for a moment, as if she'd rather stay and be charmed by the devastatingly handsome man for a little bit longer. She DID love to flirt. But at the hard edge in my eyes she nodded and let me pull her away.

Dean tried to keep up the chatter a bit longer but I ignored him and almost roughly tugged Taylor away.

Once we found another quiet corner, she complained, "Well THAT was rude. What was that all about?"

"The guy's a jerk. He's at the top of Cassandra's 'Do Not Answer' list."

Taylor seemed taken aback and returned her gaze to Dean's direction. "Why? I think he's rather handsome."

"Taylor," I growled menacingly. "He's off-limits."

"Fine, fine," she sighed. Just like I had a few dalliances on the side, I'd always let Taylor have a few flings of her own, as long as they were discreet. I was even very good friends with one of her boy-toys, the architect who designed our Montauk home. But I wasn't about to let a silver-tongued predator like Marty Dean anywhere near my Taylor. If I never saw him again, it would be too soon.

Thankfully, Dean was quickly forgotten as we ran into another young, wealthy couple that we were friends with. Taylor quickly got into her new conversation and the husband and I exchanged knowing grins as our women almost immediately started their social gossiping.