Chapter 23

Priscilla kept her hand on Emily's head, making sure it remained right where she wanted it to.

Emily took the hint and continued eating her out with no complaint.

Priscilla knew she was going to come again quickly. She also knew she was going to come several times tonight. This whole thing was just too hot…fucking the very person whose sole job it was to prove she had stolen The Young Shepherdess, a circumstance which would most likely end up with finding herself being arrested.

There was something akin to a perversion in seeing that person's head between her legs, slavishly licking and sucking her pussy. A deliciously erotic perversion that seemed to intensify everything Emily was doing to her with her mouth.

And then there was the fact that it was Emily doing those things…

That night when Emily had accosted her at the museum party, Priscilla had wanted this woman. Yes, that had been in part because she knew it would be incredibly hot to fuck her accuser—and that was certainly proving to be true—but it had also been because Priscilla had thought that Emily was incredibly attractive.

She had liked Emily's spirit, her willingness to confront, her self-assuredness, and her alpha female drive.

And everything else about her…especially her figure, and how beautiful she was.

And then, during their date, Priscilla had sussed out even more that she had liked. Particularly, that Emily might be used to being the one always in control, but that was only because she had never encountered a woman quite like herself—a realization that had made Priscilla's clit pulse.

Because there was nothing more enjoyable than one alpha taking down another.

"Oh fuck, good girl!" Priscilla said now, encouraging Emily to take her over the edge once more.

Emily moaned. It made Priscilla grin because she knew it was the good girl that had done it, which in turn told her that Emily was well and truly hers to control…at least for tonight.

Seconds later, she exploded in orgasm again, while still feeling the delights from the first one.

"FUCKING HELLLLLLLL!" she screamed, arching her head back and surrendering to the pleasures wracking her core. She finally released Emily's head so she could use her hand to help steady herself on the limo's seat due to how strongly her hips were bucking now.

She waited until the exact moment when the climax began its downward journey to say, "Get up here!"

Emily obeyed, topping her. They started kissing, Priscilla enjoying feeling how much Emily's mouth was covered with her arousal. Then, with her own pussy still trembling and convulsing with back-to-back orgasms, she slipped her right arm between their bodies and penetrated Emily again with her two longest fingers.

She broke the kiss in order to exclaim, "Jesus!" at feeling how flooded Emily's vagina was.

Emily adjusted her pelvis slightly to aid Priscilla in penetrating her as deeply as possible in this position, and then Priscilla curled her fingers, stroking them back and forth rapidly, pressing their tips against Emily's g-spot.

"Poor thing!" she cooed, her voice still a bit strained because her own sex was still experiencing waves of pleasure. "Being made to wait like that!"

Emily didn't reply with words, and Priscilla knew that was because she couldn't reply with words. Moans and sharp cries of delight were all the woman was capable of at this moment

Finally, Emily let out a breath and announced, "Oh fuck, I'm coming!"

And she did, a gushing orgasm which surprised Priscilla. It had been a long time since she had discovered a squirter, and as she felt Emily's warm essence splash onto her legs, she felt her core—so recently brought to satisfaction twice—ramp up with desire yet again.

"Oh, very nice!" she purred.

She didn't care about the mess being made in the limo…the evidence of their activities that would be left behind. She had people for that, and she was far too wealthy to give a damn what they thought. She had used this limo before for sex, would do so again, and expected it to be cleaned before that next time arrived.

Now, Emily collapsed atop her as though exhausted, her breathing hitched, her body quaking, her pussy grabbing at Priscilla's fingers tightly.

Priscilla continued stroking Emily's vagina.

"Up! On my face! Now!" she ordered, removing her fingers.

That brought new life into Emily, who quickly moved to straddle Priscilla's face.

Priscilla grabbed Emily's hips and prevented her from lowering her pussy just yet.

She was enjoying the visual…

Emily's sex was still dripping from her gushing orgasm. It was swollen with excitement, her folds—darker than Priscilla's own—plump and practically begging to be sucked on.

Adding to the tableau were the tattered remnants of Emily's panties. Priscilla had easily torn away most of the garment earlier. What remained were some scraps of lacy fabric still attached to the waist band, and seeing them made Priscilla's heart race even faster.

She gently tugged downward on Emily's hips, signaling her permission for the other woman to allow herself to be pleasured.

"Mmmmmmmmmm…" Priscilla moaned, getting her first taste of Emily. She had known from the beginning that her hunter would be delicious.

The great thing about women who squirt when they orgasm, Priscilla had discovered long ago, was that when they were upright like this so soon after climaxing, gravity acted upon their vaginas and revealed just how wet such women got. Sure enough, Priscilla found herself working her mouth quickly on Emily's vulva, drinking the veritable stream of liquid warmth that was issuing from her opening, and feeling it coating her chin to the extent that rogue trickles dribbled down her cheeks and throat.

She decided that after making Emily come again, she'd order Gordon to return to the mansion.

The night was still young, and she wanted to fuck her hunter in the very room where what she sought was safely hidden…

***

They did some damage in Priscilla's bedroom. Literally…

At one point, their energetic activities caused Emily's leg to knock a lamp off one of the bedside tables. It made them both laugh but otherwise didn't interrupt what they had been doing.

And Priscilla had made sure to fuck Emily with her strap-on dildo, up against the bookcase behind which The Young Shepherdess was hidden. Watching as Emily gripped one of the shelves while being taken from behind, Priscilla had smiled while biting her bottom lip, pounding the vibrating toy repeatedly into Emily's pussy, and thinking to herself, You have no idea how close you are to what you seek, Ms. Bacon!

Emily orgasmed so hard from that strap-on play that she had sunk to her knees before the bookcase, panting, with her hands still above her head, gripping the shelf.

Priscilla had enjoyed seeing that visual as well. Her latest sexual conquest, subdued by orgasmic pleasures, brought to her knees in front of the secret gateway obscuring the very item which had brought Emily to her.

It was after midnight when they both called it quits. In fact, it was nearly 1 a.m.

Exhausted, Priscilla managed to take a quick shower with very hot water, Emily joining her. They ignored each other as they washed…both of them going about the business of cleaning themselves, without any intention or attempt to turn it into anything sexual. When they were finished, Priscilla led Emily to her walk-in closet that was the size of some people's studio apartments, and pointed to a five-drawer sacristy cabinet, made in 18th century England, which stood by itself in one corner.

"Help yourself," she instructed.

The cabinet contained an assortment of camisole tops and sleep shorts—all immaculately folded and arranged by color by the housekeeper—which Priscilla wore when she wasn't in the mood for pajamas. Tonight, however, she was in the mood for pajamas, and put on blue silk pants with a matching button-up top.

There was no question of even asking Emily if she wanted to spend the night. What would be the point in sending her home at this late hour? Besides, Priscilla was interested in discovering what the morning would bring.

Once in bed, she groaned with pleasure at how much her body appreciated lying down and not moving. She might still be in terrific shape, capable of ripping the panties off a willing woman with one strong tug, but she was forty-two-years-old, and she and Emily had really expended a lot of energy. In fact, Priscilla realized now that it had been quite a while since she'd had a night like that!

"Stay for breakfast?" she asked her companion.

Emily was lying beside her, but there was a gap between them, which suited Priscilla just fine. There was no indication yet of whether their recent sexual escapades had been a one-off, or if there would be more, but either way it was too soon for spooning.

"Sounds wonderful," Emily said, weariness in her voice.

Priscilla switched off the bedroom light, and in the darkness smirked. No doubt Emily wanted to stick around in the house for as long as possible. No doubt Emily wanted to stick around as close to her as possible.

That was fine.

Priscilla had anticipated all of that. Just as she had anticipated bringing Emily home with her tonight.

"Good night," she mumbled, rolling onto her side away from the other woman, and hugging a spare pillow to her chest.

"Good night," Emily repeated.

Priscilla fell asleep instantly.

***

The next morning, Priscilla wondered…

When was the last time I woke up with a woman…in my own house?

Her brow furrowed as she considered that question, and the length of time it was taking to answer it was somewhat alarming.

Fine, she wouldn't necessarily complain about how she had been managing her sex life over the past few years…vis-à-vis, allowing women to sleep over here in the mansion, or downtown at the penthouse, following time spent screwing each other's brains out. However…

Had she really closed off her life to the extent where she couldn't tolerate waking up next to someone with whom she had shared very intimate contact?

If so, what was behind that?

Was it that she preferred compartmentalizing sex and relationship?

Was it that she was afraid that if Susan Worthington or Sonja Garrison or any number of women she regularly satisfied her carnal needs with spent the night, they would expect more from her than she was willing to give?

Or was it that she just hadn't found a woman she wanted to give more to? Including the privilege of saying, "Good morning" to her.

Whatever the case was, she finally determined that it had been Yvonne Powers who had been her last overnight guest in this house, and that it had been over two years ago, and only for that one night.

And now, after all that time, here she was, in the morning, looking down at a woman who was still in her bed.

It was just after 7 o'clock. Priscilla, as usual, had awoken early and managed to get out of bed and perform her usual morning rituals without disturbing Emily. The fact that her guest was still sleeping somewhat surprised her. She had pegged Emily as another early-riser. Driven, type-A people usually were. Although…

Priscilla smirked, remembering last night.

Mostwomen would sleep late after a night like that.

She left the bedroom wearing clean pajamas and slippers, and used the stairs to walk down to the second floor. She hadn't left a note for Emily explaining where she was going to be. Emily was clever…she'd figure it out.

She found Madeline waiting for her in the breakfast room, which was just off the living room, where Jeune bergère debout was hung. It was a small room, with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides, offering a panoramic view of the grounds and the ocean beyond it. Priscilla enjoyed eating breakfast in here, as most San Diego mornings were too chilly to enjoy doing so outside dressed only in pajamas.

On the table was a glass and steel coffee pot filled with coffee, two mugs with saucers, some silverware, Priscilla's laptop, and her iPad Pro.

"I'll wait for my guest to join me before breakfast, Madeline," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I suspect it won't be long."

"Very well, ma'am," Madeline said.

"Have you taken care of that other thing I requested?" Priscilla asked as she logged onto her laptop.

"Yes," Madeline said. "They were more than happy to help. I'm expecting the delivery very soon."

"Thank you," Priscilla said.

Madeline then left her alone. Priscilla used her computer to access her company's network, read several emails and DMs, and then wrote an email of her own to her three top lieutenants informing them that she wouldn't be in the office today, to not make any movement on the Trumbull matter, and that she would prefer not to be reached except in the direst of circumstances. That done, she closed the laptop and picked up the iPad so she could read today's New York Times.

She had trouble concentrating, however. Thoughts of last night kept intruding into her mind, making her cross her legs. Also—and more disturbingly—she was realizing that she was looking forward to Emily joining her.

It was a dangerous game she was playing. What she needed to do was focus on getting Emily Bacon and San Diego Police Department off her back, instead of wanting to have even more fun—in and out of bed—with the gorgeous insurance investigator.

She didn't have to wait long for Emily to appear, Madeline having escorted her to the breakfast room.

"You could have slept in longer," Priscilla greeted her. "Coffee?"

"Thank you," Emily said, taking her seat at the table. "I would have slept in longer, but I always feel guilty about doing that when I have work to do." She gave Priscilla a smirk as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Priscilla put an understanding look on her face.

"Mm, I know the feeling," she said. She went back to scanning the Times headlines on her iPad.

"By the way," Emily went on, "I borrowed a pair of underwear. Seeing how you destroyed mine last night, I figured it was the least you could do."

Priscilla grinned without taking her eyes off the iPad.

"Glad you found something," she said. After a moment's pause, she added, "At last."

Emily gasped.

Priscilla looked at her and winked.

"Anyway, we seem to be about the same size," she said.

Emily shrugged.

"Except you seem about two feet taller," she said.

"I meant where it counts," Priscilla added. She gestured vaguely in the direction of Emily's pelvis. "For underwear purposes."

Emily's breasts were larger than her own, so Priscilla suspected they wouldn't be swapping bras anytime soon, but it was nice to encounter another woman who was similarly built south of the waistline for the odd panty-borrowing situations.

"You realize last night changes nothing," Emily said, after taking a sip of her coffee.

Priscilla took her eyes off her iPad to look at her.

"No?" she asked.

Emily shook her head.

"No," she stated.

Priscilla looked off to the side for a moment.

"What if I told you that you have spectacular breasts?" she asked. She tapped the side of her head. "I was just thinking about them as a matter of fact."

Emily laughed.

"Thank you," she said. "I know I do. But it still doesn't change anything."

Priscilla made it appear as if she was contemplating this bit of intelligence. She then shrugged and went back to looking at her tablet.

"Still…" she said offhandedly. "At least I got you to do something else with your mouth other than ask me where that painting is."

"You fucking bitch!" Emily exclaimed.

But at least she was laughing when she said it.