Chapter 22

Hours later, Emily walked into Ambrogio by Acquerello, a very upscale Italian restaurant in the equally upscale San Diego community of La Jolla.

She was wearing a blood-red sheath dress with black patent leather stilettos, the heels of which were almost sharp enough to plunge through someone's chest wall and pierce their heart.

She ignored the tall stick-figure-super-model-wannabe hostess who challenged her, and marched straight into the dining room, knowing the stick figure was following her.

She spotted Priscilla easily. Not many women were as tall as her—except the stick figure whose breath Emily could almost feel on the back of her neck. What's more, the red hair acted as a beacon for her eyes.

Priscilla was with someone…someone who seemed young. Who it was, Emily had no interest in, only that she had to leave.

Emily stopped at Priscilla's table, glaring down at her.

"I'm with her," she said to the stick figure, but without looking at her.

Priscilla stared at Emily for a moment before adjusting them slightly to look at the hostess.

"It's fine, Candace," she said.

When the stick figure had left, Emily balanced her weight on one leg and crossed her arms.

"Your friend?" she asked.

"Of course," Priscilla said. "Emily Bacon, allow me to introduce you to Celia Bruce, Countess of Ailesbury."

Emily, even through her anger, was thrown by this.

Fucking great!

"How do you do?" the young countess asked, extending her hand, which Emily took.

"An honor, Countess," Emily said. "I apologize for interrupting."

"Celia," Priscilla began, "could you please excuse us? Emily and I have some important things to discuss. I promise to be in touch tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to it," the countess said, rising. "Enjoy your meal…both of you."

When they were alone, Priscilla gestured to the recently vacated seat at her table.

Emily sat down and stared at the redhead.

"A countess!" she said. "Here in San Diego! Well, if there's one woman who could manage to pull that off, it would be you."

Priscilla smirked.

"Celia is young and beautiful, yes," she said. "She enjoys America, particularly Southern California, which typically has better weather than Ireland. Her family has a home here, and we were just chatting."

"So, she's not with you?" Emily asked. "As in, your date for the evening?"

"She wasn't my date, no," Priscilla said flatly. "We were just…catching up.

Liar!

There was more to why the countess was here…Emily knew it, but she didn't care. She was here for other reasons.

"I came here alone," Priscilla went on. "What took you so long?"

Emily bristled. She hated the way Priscilla made it seem as though she was always three steps ahead of her.

Emily's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not one of your puppets, and you're not holding my strings," she said.

Just then, a male server appeared with a cocktail that he placed on the table before Emily. Emily looked down at it. It was a boulevardier. With a twist of lemon.

"You were saying something about not being a puppet?" Priscilla prodded snarkily.

Emily leaned forward, sneering. It took all of her willpower to not throw the boulevardier in Priscilla's face, and storm out.

"You must have had a field day coming up with that little stunt," she muttered.

"Stunt?" Priscilla asked. "All I did was decide to transport something I legally own from my house here in San Diego to my villa in Turks and Caicos," Priscilla said. She then smiled. "You can't arrest me for that. Nor can you arrest me if I admit to enjoying how embarrassing it must have been for you and Detective Sadowski at the airport."

Emily felt herself blushing. She had never been played like that in her professional career, and earlier it had taken her close to an hour to stop trembling from her anger.

She leaned even closer.

"Bitch," she said quietly. "You pulled that stunt because you know it's only a matter of time."

"Really?" Priscilla stated. "It amuses me how you think you're so close."

"I am close!" Emily said between clenched teeth. "You think yesterday was the only time we'll be in your house? It won't be!"

Now Priscilla leaned over the table. Emily's heart quickened at how close their faces were now. Priscilla had a look in her green eyes that was pure predator. She reached up and placed one of her hands on the back on Emily's neck, and Emily loathed how quickly her nipples hardened.

"You want in my house?" Priscilla purred. "Then let's go."

Emily glared at her, but she knew she wasn't going to fire off a stinging rebuke, and then get up and stomp away angrily. Although in nine out of ten similar circumstances she would have.

But this woman…

Fuck it! At least I'll have that before she goes off to jail!

"Exactly, Ms. Kroyn," she said. "Let's go!"

***

A few minutes later, walking out of the restaurant…

"Different limo," Emily remarked when Priscilla led her to a black stretch Mercedes-Benz. "Bigger."

"I told you I was expecting you," Priscilla said. To the chauffeur who was holding open the rear door, she said, "Take the long way back. And keep taking it until I say otherwise."

"Yes, ma'am," the driver said.

As she bent to step into the car, Emily felt as though she was entering a portal to…who knew where? Was it Hell? Was it a parallel universe in which this all made sense?

What was she doing?

Whatever it was, she wanted to start doing it fast so that she wouldn't overthink it. She was upset, yes. Still angry from this morning, yes. But she was also not the type of woman to deny herself something when she needed that something…especially when the line between need and want was so blurred as to practically be nonexistent.

Such blurring could occur because of a piece of diamond jewelry.

Such blurring could occur because of a work of art.

And such blurring could occur because of a woman.

Fortunately, as soon as Priscilla followed her inside the spacious passenger area of the limousine, and the door had been shut, sealing them in, she had made Emily join her on the very long and plush seat which ran the length of the back of the car, and started kissing her.

Instantly, their kissing was aggressive and intense, their mouths working hard and fast against each other, and their tongues probing deep.

Priscilla further took control as the car started moving by grabbing the spaghetti straps of Emily's dress and pulling them off her shoulders. The dress had a bra built in, so there was nothing else to remove up top, and Emily's breasts were soon exposed, her nipples hardening even more now. Priscilla used one hand to take hold of Emily's left breast, fondling it, squeezing it, and then pinching the nipple, which made Emily's clit throb harder, and caused her to gasp into her kiss with the redhead.

Then the kiss was broken, and she was pushed back until her shoulders collided with the seat cushion, and she was being topped by Priscilla.

A hand was shoved up her dress between her legs, coming in contact with her panties—a skimpy thong with eyelash trim that was already soaked from her excitement.

"Oh fuck!" she grunted at feeling the touch and the pleasures it evoked.

But then…

"Look at me!" Priscilla ordered.

Emily met her eyes.

"Good girl!" Priscilla told her.

Emily felt Priscilla's fingers grab the crotch of the panties and then with surprising strength and speed, tore them off her, the sound of the ripping fabric clearly heard, and the very act itself making Emily gasp as her pussy clenched. The thong had cost $45, but she didn't care. In a way, the loss of such an expensive piece of underwear turned her on that much more.

She wrapped her arms around Priscilla's waist when the other woman inserted two fingers inside her. Two long fingers.

"Look at me!" Priscilla ordered again when Emily's eyes closed at how good it felt to be penetrated.

Emily forced her eyes open, although her jaw remained slack.

Instead of fucking her with the fingers, Priscilla just…stroked the upper wall of Emily's passage in a come hither motion, finding her g-spot and titillating it.

"Fuck!" Emily moaned. "Oh my fuck!"

Priscilla smiled that I-am-the-queen-of-this-world smile of hers.

"Smug…bitch!" Emily huffed out, as her vagina rhythmically clasped at the fingers inside it.

Priscilla nodded.

"And this smug bitch now has her fingers deep inside you," she said. "Because that's what I wanted. And you gave it to me."

Emily nodded. It was true, after all, and considering how good her entire core felt, she knew she was going to submit to anything else Priscilla wanted.

"Don't dare think you're coming yet," Priscilla cooed.

"What do you mean?" Emily asked.

"Earn your orgasm, Ms. Bacon," Priscilla replied.

The fingers were pulled out, and Emily actually heard herself whining because of the sudden loss of the sensations from the stroking.

"Please!" she begged.

Her inner walls were clutching even more now, as though searching for the fingers Priscilla had removed.

Priscilla didn't respond. Instead, she leaned back herself, until her back was flat on the long seat. She spread her legs, resting the foot of the left one atop the seat's back, and placing her right foot flat on the floor.

"Get over here," she commanded. "And earn your orgasm."

Emily's clit pulsed rapidly three times.

Yes, ma'am!

She wasn't going to say that out loud…yet.

She suspected that might change in the near future.

She did as she was told—still obeying her need/want—licking her lips as she placed her head between Priscilla's legs. Not wasting time, she pulled aside the crotch of Priscilla's lace panties.

"Oh fuck yes!" she grunted.

The woman's pussy was beautiful, and her pink folds were glistening and aromatic with her musk. And her clit was proudly unhooded, demanding attention.

Emily brought her mouth to the pussy and closed her eyes while tasting it. And then she proceeded to do what she knew she was good at.

She felt a hand on the back of her head, its fingers working themselves deep into her hair and taking possession of it. She jammed her tongue into Priscilla's opening, swirling it, making Priscilla cry out. When her tongue was sufficiently coated with the other woman's arousal, she withdrew it, closed her mouth, and swallowed what was on it. She then went back for more.

Meanwhile, her own pussy had needs. Desperate needs.

Priscilla—in a short time—had managed to stroke her g-spot enough that it had kindled a heat in her core that right now was burning at a smolder, but Emily needed it to burst into a roaring fire. She needed to come, but she also loved being made to wait.

To earn it.

Withdrawing her tongue again, she swallowed what was on it, and then clamped her lips over Priscilla's clit. She felt it twitching with excitement, telling her that Priscilla had the same need she did.

She sucked on it while swiping it with her tongue, listening carefully to Priscilla's moans and cries, using them to learn about the woman and how to pleasure her orally.

Finally…

"Don't stop!" Priscilla cried out. "Don't fucking stop!"

So, Emily didn't stop. Instead, she sucked more firmly while continuing to swipe the clit with her tongue.

Then…

"OhhhhhhhFUUUUUUUCK!" Priscilla shouted, as Emily felt the woman come undone because of how her vulva started convulsing against her face. Also, she felt a splash of warmth against her chin, telling her that floodgates had truly opened.

She relinquished the clit while Priscilla kept crying out, and brought her mouth to Priscilla's opening, using her tongue to lap up the stream of arousal that was being forced out of it.

"Good girl!" Priscilla cried. "Oh...good girl!"

Emily moaned at those words…secret words that always made her pussy clench.

She only hoped she had done enough to earn her orgasm…