Expose (Billionaire Series) (16 page)

“What do you mean? You’re the best man I know – kind,
considerate, generous,” I said. I couldn’t believe that Uncle Andy would think
poorly of him.

“I have a lot of messed up things in my past, Amanda” he
said. His eyes narrowed, making him look to be in thought.

I sat still. I could tell he wanted to tell me, but I didn’t
want to pry. It’s hard to pour out all your fears and insecurities and lay
yourself entirely bare to someone. I waited until he found the words, ready to
listen to every single one. I didn’t think it was possible for him to say
anything that would make me think less of him.

He began speaking again. This time, his voice was calm and
low as he looked intently at his hands clasped in his lap. “I want you to know
everything about me, and I need you to understand why your uncle didn’t want me
around you.” He took a deep breath. His faced seemed pained, but when our eyes
met again his mouth stretched into a peaceful smile.

“I come from a broken family. My father was a drunk
–
a waste of space. I still have nightmares that I might end up
like him. We even look alike,” Mathis said bitterly.

“If you deliberately avoid acting like him, you won’t be like
him,” I said gently, trying to diffuse the animosity on Mathis’ face.

“I could certainly fill a book with the awful things
I’ve
done,” Mathis said darkly. “My father abused my mother, and she tried to shield
me from the worst of it. I was a coward, and I didn’t protect her like I should
have. She was a strong woman, like you, and I let her shield me. She killed
herself when I was 10.”

He spoke so flatly that it was hard to tell from his
intonation how deeply his mother’s suicide had cut him, but I could see from
the hard lines in his face and the tenseness in his jaw as he spoke that he
held a lot of resentment towards himself for letting it happen.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said softly. “You were a child –
you couldn’t have done anything.”

“I could have convinced her to leave my father,” he said. “I
could have taken some of those beatings for her.”

“I’m sure your mother wanted to protect you,” I said. “She
must have loved you very much.”

“Not enough to stay,” he said simply. I wasn’t sure how to
respond, so I waited patiently.

He took a deep breath, and continued.  “My life went into a
downward spiral from there. I began to steal and pickpocket, not for the money,
but just because I was angry and I thought the world was a fucked up place, so
who cared? It was the only emotion I ever felt – the thrill of getting away
with it. I couldn’t feel happiness, or even sadness, or loneliness. The rush of
stealing is the only thing I remember feeling.”

I sat silently. I wanted to reach out and hold him, to let
him know I didn’t hold it against him, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to
interrupt him. The look in his eyes told me he was right back in those days,
remembering what it was to be a scared and lonely boy.

“When I was 13, I was heavily involved in the crime group.
The rush had long gone and I was just tired of living. I had no worth, and I
just wanted to end it all. I thought maybe my mother’s path was right. What was
the point? So I chose a busy road and stepped out in front of an oncoming bus.”

He paused and looked at me. “I’m not telling you this so you
feel sorry for me. I just need you to know. I’ve never told anyone about this before,”
Mathis said. “But it matters to me that you understand this part of me,
Amanda.”

“Of course,” I said nodding.

A few things clicked into place as Mathis revealed this
secret to me. I knew that he had been taken under the wing of my Uncle Andy at about
that age, but I never knew exactly why.

My uncle should have been Andrew Taylor, his surname the same
as mine. Many years ago he changed his last name to Scott, as a reminder of his
son who had killed himself at the heartbreaking young age of 14. He had been
bullied at school, and he’d taken his life with one of his father’s guns.

I was very young at the time, but I understood there was a
hole in Uncle Andy’s heart which would never heal. He had shut himself in with
his work for a long time, but at some point he had begun spending time with me
and helping Mathis. Now I realized that helping Mathis had probably been a way
to try and alleviate the pain from failing to save his own son.

“Did Uncle Andy…” I asked.

“He saved me,” Mathis said softly. “He stopped me, and he
took me in and helped me in my darkest hour. He gave me a chance that I didn’t
deserve. I really owe him…everything.”

“Mathis,” I said, my voice filled with emotion. “I’m so, so
sorry. I never knew any of this. I hate that you’ve had to suffer so much.”

“I deserved to suffer,” he said quietly. “Now that you know
who I really am – I don’t expect you to return my love, Amanda. You must
understand now why your uncle didn’t want his precious niece with someone like
me.”

“That’s not true,” I protested. “Uncle Andy saw all the
potential in you and he gave you the chance to bring it out in yourself. He
loved you like a son and he gave you the chance to be a good person and do
great things. And you have.”

“I can’t erase my past,” he said.

“No, but you can make your future. You’ve proven a thousand
times that you’re strong enough to rise above adversity and make something of
yourself. You are worth everything my uncle put into you. I don’t care what
happened in your past. Actions speak loudly, and all your actions from that
point show what a good person you are. You deserve so much happiness and I – I
want to share that with you.”

“Your uncle was a great man,” Mathis said. “And everything I
was able to do was because of his support and faith in me. I couldn’t bear to
become a bad person again and disrespect the only request he ever made of me –
to stay away from you.”

“He loved you,” I said fervently. “And he loved me too. He
may have been overprotective of me, but Mathis – he wanted us both to be happy.
Look.”

I crossed over to one of my bookshelves with books bursting
at the seams and took down the dog-eared book Uncle Andy had sent me. I opened
it to the page signed by Uncle Andy.

“Follow my dreams,” I read out loud as Mathis touched the words
gently with his fingers. “That’s what he told me. Well, I know what I want. My
heart is telling me that we should be together, and I think Uncle Andy would
have understood that – and been proud of both of us.”

“I wish I could accept that,” Mathis said sadly.

“He gave it to me right before he died,” I said. “It was his
last message to me. Didn’t he ever say anything to you?”

Mathis drew his wallet out of his pants pocket and flipped it
open, drawing out a small photograph to show me. “He gave me this,” he said.
“I’ve kept it close to me ever since. It’s the one and only picture I have of
you.”

I looked at the picture, and couldn’t help but smile at what
I saw.

It was a picture of me, Mathis, and Uncle Andy from the
summer we had all been together at Uncle Andy’s ranch. Mathis was in an old T-shirt
and cut-offs, barefoot in the orchard, next to an old apple tree which we had
been climbing. I was on Mathis’ back in a piggyback ride, my long hair done in
a thick dark braid. Uncle Andy was standing next to us, smiling. The photo had
been taken by the gardener. We were heavily tanned, and you could see the joy
in our eyes.

“Why would he give you that photo if he wanted you to forget
me?” I asked. “Why would he ask you to teach me to manage his investments?”

“I don’t know,” Mathis replied.

“I’d forgotten about this day,” I murmured, taking the photo
from Mathis’ hand and studying it closely. “We were trying to get at the apples,
and Uncle Andy came out to call you back to work, but he ended up joining in,
collecting enough apples to bake a dozen pies.”

“It’s one of my happiest memories,” admitted Mathis.

I turned the photo over, wondering if there was something on
the back, but it was blank. I was disappointed, but then I noticed that the
back of the photo was peeling in one corner. It was the same color as the back
of the photo so it was hard to see.

“Does this come off?” I asked Mathis.

He leaned over my shoulder to take a look. “I never noticed,”
he said. “Try it.”

I found the corner and peeled the false back off. Underneath,
I immediately noticed Uncle Andy’s neat, elegant handwriting. We silently read
it together:

I’ve always been proud of you, but you weren’t ready then.
Now you’ve become a man she can be proud of
-
make her happy,
Mathis, if that’s the path you choose.

I read those two lines over and over, not daring to look at
Mathis. I was afraid that they were a mirage – too good to be true.

“Look at me,” Mathis said.

Slowly, I turned to face him, looking him directly in the
eye. His smile was as broad and bright as the late evening sunbeams slanting
into the room.

“So Amanda,” he said, and my heart expanded in my chest. “Am
I a man you can be proud of?”

Philip drove into
the most luxurious gated community Jennifer had ever seen. He pulled into a
private garage next to a gorgeous home. When he opened the car door this time,
he held out his hand. “So in the light of total honesty, I have something I
want to tell you.”

Jennifer tensed as
she got out of the car. Philip moved towards her until there was barely an inch
between them.

His voice was low,
the light in his eyes making Jennifer's mouth go dry and other parts of her get
very wet. “I honestly want to take you upstairs and make love to you until
neither of us can see straight.” He waited for a moment, letting the words sink
in, and then he took a step back before adding. “Let me take care of you.”

Jennifer nodded
mutely. How was she supposed to respond to that with anything less than full
agreement?

He reached out and
took her uninjured hand and led her to the entrance while she struggled not to
gawk. The moment she stepped inside, however, that became impossible. She'd
known Philip was wealthy but when they were together, she never really thought
about it. Now, she realized that she hadn't had a clue.

“One of the guest
rooms is that way,” Philip gestured one way as he led Jennifer in the opposite
direction. “So is the media room.” As they stepped through a doorway, he
continued. “The library's back there.”

“A library?”
Jennifer echoed. She knew, in theory, what he meant, but it still sounded odd
hearing someone talking about a library in their house. Then again, considering
the elegant piano in front of her and the expensive artwork she saw lining
every wall, it shouldn't surprise her.

“The dining room's
through there,” Philip pointed. “And the kitchen's to the right.” He pulled
Jennifer after him through another doorway. “This is the living room. I usually
only use this for business parties. The media room's where I usually relax.”

“Mm-hm,” Jennifer
couldn't come up with a more articulate response. She was too busy staring at
the view.

“It's a bit hard to
see from this angle,” Philip walked with her over to the glass wall. “But the
terrace surrounds a pool.”

“A pool.” She was
beginning to feel like a parrot.

“It's one of the
reasons I went with this rather than one of the other units. I love to swim.”
He pointed towards a set of deck furniture that looked more expensive than
anything Jennifer had ever sat in. “There's also a spa and a hot tub I had put
in.” He looked down at her. “Very good for relaxing in after... exercising. Or
for exercising in if you want a bit of a change.”

Jennifer flushed as
she had the sudden image of making love to Philip in a spa or the pool.

“The gym's
upstairs,” Philip grinned at her as if knowing what response his words had
evoked. “So why don't we move that way so I can show you the rest of the
place.”

“You have a gym…in
your house?”

Philip released her
hand to climb the stairs, but he glanced over his shoulder at her as he
answered. “A single guy doesn't really need six bedrooms. There's the one guest
room downstairs and two up here. The bedroom off of the study I converted into
a gym.”

When they reached
the second floor, Philip slid his arm around Jennifer's waist, his expression
suddenly a combination of shy and serious as he led her to the left. They
passed the high, open ceiling of the living room and paused at a door.

“In the past, on
the rare occasion when I've brought someone home with me, we don't come back
here. No one comes back here.” He pushed the door open. “This is my room.”

It suited him,
Jennifer decided as he took her inside. Done in black, white and gray, it was a
bit different from the rest of the house which had been made up of warm woods
and matching colors, but that's what made it work. This was the place where he
could be himself, where no one else was watching him. A massive fireplace and a
large flat screen television took up most of one wall and an equally huge bed
was against the opposite one. A door led to what Jennifer assumed would be the
master bathroom, and she could only imagine how big that was. It was only when
she looked up at him that she realized he was watching her, anxiously waiting
for a response.

“You have a
beautiful home,” she said. “Though I have to say this is my favorite room so
far.”

Philip laughed, a
freer sound than she'd heard before.

“I do have one
question.” Something that Philip had said popped back into her mind.

“I'm an open book,”
Philip kicked off his shoes and grinned when Jennifer did the same.

“You said when you
bring people home, you don't take them here. Do you,” she couldn't believe she
was actually going to ask this, but it had made her think of one of Eloisa's
comments. “Do you use a guest room for your girlfriends when they sleep over?”

“The few times I've
brought a woman here, it wasn't to sleep.” He winked at her.

“But if not in
here...” Jennifer let the rest of her question trail off.

“Next to the guest
room downstairs is another bedroom. That's where we usually...” Philip made a
vague gesture. He moved so that he was facing Jennifer. “I may have referred to
those women as my girlfriends, but I never told any of them half of what I've
told you.” He placed his hand on Jennifer's cheek. “And I never wanted any of
them anywhere near
my
bed.”

Jennifer grinned
and slowly reached behind her and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the
thick carpet. She'd chosen simple white cotton for her bra and panties, but the
way Philip looked at her, she could have been wearing the most expensive
lingerie in the world. He lowered his head and covered her lips with his.
Jennifer pushed his jacket off of his shoulders as she parted her lips, running
her hands over his muscular back. His tongue teased hers and her body flushed
with arousal.

When he lifted her,
she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Their mouths didn't
part until he lowered her to the bed. He knelt next to her as he removed her
bra, his fingers lightly tracing the faint marks from his mouth that still
lingered on her skin. Jennifer made a pleased sound as Philip scraped his nails
over her nipples, making them instantly harden.

“Will it hurt your
arm if I tie you up?” Philip asked, genuine concern on his face.

Jennifer shook her
head. She couldn't feel the slightest bit of pain from her injuries. Her entire
body was focused on the anticipation of what was to come. She stretched her
arms above her head in unspoken supplication, ignoring the twinge in her
shoulder as she did so. Philip's eyes darkened.

“The stuff I would
normally use is in the other room,” Philip said as he climbed off of the bed
and headed for his closet. “So I guess I'm just going to have to make do with
what I have.” He held up three silk ties and then pulled off the one he was
wearing.

As he tied
Jennifer's wrists and ankles, she was struck by a strange sense of déjà vú. It
took her a moment to place it, but as soon as he finished and she was naked,
spread eagle in front of him, the memory clicked into place. Her dream.

“Don't cum until I
give you permission.”

Jennifer nodded
eagerly at the familiar command. She wasn't entirely sure she could do better
than her dream-self had done, but she was willing to give it a go.

“Close your eyes.”

She obediently did
as she was told, her body humming with anticipation. All of the day's previous
drama faded away as she waited for him to begin.

Even though she
knew it was coming, the first brush of something light across her breast made
her shiver, a bubble of laughter falling from her lips.

“Talk to me,”
Philip's voice tightened familiar things.

“It tickles.”

Philip chuckled,
the sound caressing Jennifer's body even as whatever he was using moved over
her breasts, teasing her nipples until she was squirming, trying to get away
from the too-light sensation. As it moved down over her stomach, she began to
pant, muscles tensing as she recalled what had happened next in her dream. She
tugged at her restraints, barely remembering in time to not pull on her left
hand. Whatever Philip was using to toy with her now danced down between her
legs.

“Ahhh,” Jennifer's
hips jerked and she squeezed her eyes shut more tightly. The instant she felt
his fingers touch her lower lips, she whimpered. The touch on her clit made her
cry out in frustration. It was just enough sensation to send little ripples of
pleasure across her nerves, but not enough to take her where she wanted to go.

“Open your eyes.”
Philip ordered. “I want to see you.”

Jennifer opened her
eyes and saw Philip staring down at her with hungry eyes. In his hand was not a
feather but a make-up brush. She raised an eyebrow.

“Don't ask,” Philip
grinned. “Now, don't cum yet.”

He used his fingers
to part her lips again and ran the soft bristles over her clit and down to her
entrance. Jennifer waited for his fingers to penetrate her, but instead, she
felt something harder than flesh and a good deal cooler. It moved inside her,
unyielding, and it wasn't until she realized that the brush wasn't teasing her
clit, that she knew what Philip was using. He bent forward even as he thrust
the handle of the brush into her wet opening.

“Ah!” She cried out
as Philip's tongue flicked across her clit. It circled the rapidly swelling
bundle of nerves, each pass sending her closer and closer to the edge. Her
breath came in pants, her hands opening and closing as she fought for control.
The moment his lips closed around her clit, all hope was lost and she exploded.
It rolled over her, her body jerking against the restraints as she came.

She didn't realize
Philip had untied her wrists until she saw him at her feet, working on the ties
holding her ankles in place. Her heart was still racing as she slowly moved her
injured arm, testing it. Not bad. She stopped, mid-motion, as Philip began to
take off his own clothes.

Jennifer let her
eyes run down over every fine line as it was revealed, the heat of arousal
licking over her body like a flame at the sight of his lean, hard body. And
speaking of hard... Jennifer licked her lips as Philip turned towards her,
revealing his half-hard cock.

“You came without
permission,” he chided. “Which means you need to be punished.”

Jennifer tried not
to show how much the idea turned her on.

“I want you to bend
over the bed,” Philip said.

She quickly did as
she was told. She knew she should've been embarrassed by her position – hands
on the bed, feet on the floor, ass in the air – but all she could think about
was what it was going to feel like to have Philip punish her.

“I'm going to spank
you now.” Philip ran his hand over Jennifer's back, over the swell of her ass.
He suddenly leaned down, the authority in his voice switching to worry. “Is
your arm okay?”

Jennifer nodded,
Philip's concern making her warm in a whole different way. This was it, the
thing that had been missing before. Under the need for control was a concern
for her, a desire to put her feelings and well-being above his own wants and
needs.

“Tell me if it hurts.” Philip pressed his lips against her injured shoulder.
“Everything else, well, that's supposed to hurt.”

The first blow
shouldn't have come as such a surprise, but her ass was stinging before she'd
even realized that his hand had made contact. He swatted each cheek with the
same even force, leaving bright pink handprints on her pale flesh.

When he reached
ten, he began to speak. “When I start fucking  you, you're allowed to cum as
many times as you want. And you can scream as loud as you want. The house
keepers don’t come until tomorrow afternoon and the walls are more or less
soundproofed.”