Chapter 27

Emily, her pussy still trembling from the latest orgasm Priscilla had given her, was alarmed at how much she was shaking as she came down from the heights of pleasure—yet again.

How long had it been since this began?

How many times had she come?

She had no idea. More than five, less than twenty.

But she was done.

She loved that she was multi-orgasmic—she knew not all women were—but this had been unlike anything she'd ever experienced. And she had been with some terrific lovers.

But Priscilla had kept her going, and going, and going.

And going, and going…

At times it had felt as though she wasn't having separate orgasms, but rather a single continuous one. No sooner had one started petering out when Priscilla would ramp her core back up again with her mouth, her fingers, or both…building yet another climax and then expertly unleashing it.

And she had endured it. Happily. After all, when a woman—any woman, sure, but especially the Priscilla Kroyns of the world—was willing to give and give and give like that, how could she not be happy?

But, seriously, she was done now.

"I need to stop!" she cried out, hearing how hoarse her voice sounded, and finding the strength to pull her pussy away from Priscilla's mouth, and then roll herself over on the mattress in order to recover.

Her pussy was tingling to the point of numbness by now, and her clit felt as though it was on fire. Her lower ab muscles were sore, and she was actually sweating…and not just her face. Her entire body was covered in a sheen of perspiration.

Oh my god, she is fucking amazing!

She wanted Priscilla all to herself now, and realized that she would be jealous if another woman got to have her, and was allowed to experience what she had just experienced.

She thought she was going to be left alone to recuperate from her multiple climaxes, able to just hug the pillow she had grabbed and get through all of the delightful aftershocks.

But then…

Strong hands took hold of her upper arms, and she was rolled over. Still trembling and gasping, she saw Priscilla's face looking down at her, with that smug smile of hers.

"You're not done yet," Priscilla stated.

Immediately, Priscilla straddled her face, lowering her own swollen and excited pussy down to her mouth.

Emily felt worn out, depleted. She felt that if a blanket was draped over her, she would fall asleep instantly, but she started working her mouth on Priscilla's sex. After all, it was Priscilla Kroyn's pussy, and somehow the…celebrity of it made it that much more desirable.

"Mmmmm…" she groaned, tasting Priscilla's juices. The arousal was practically flowing out of the woman topping her, and she worked her tongue and lips furiously to capture as much of it as she could.

"Was I good to you, Emily Bacon?" Priscilla cooed from above.

"Mm-hm…" Emily responded, not daring to stop.

So good!

Her vagina was still spasming from the latest orgasm.

She felt Priscilla stroke her hair, and remove some loose strands that had worked their way onto her face.

"When you're a good girl, you get rewarded," Priscilla told her. "You like being rewarded by me, don't you?"

"Mm-hm!" Emily replied again, those two special words—good girl—causing her hyper-stimulated clit to pound almost painfully.

She started sucking on Priscilla's clit. It was incredibly hard and engorged, and it was beating like a tiny heart in her mouth. Priscilla groaned sexily in response, and began rocking her hips on Emily's face.

"You're never happy until I come, are you?" Priscilla prodded. Her voice was higher-pitched now.

Emily shook her head while not relinquishing her mouth's hold on Priscilla's clit.

"That's right…" Priscilla breathed out. "You can't be happy until I come…"

Emily furiously swiped her tongue over the sensitive button in her mouth.

She needed Priscilla to come! She wanted to pleasure her all night if that was what was required.

Finally…

Priscilla cried out an "Oh fuck!" and Emily made her tongue go even faster.

Then…

"GOOD GIRL! FUCKING GOOD GIRL!"

Priscilla's scream coincided with her grinding her pussy faster on Emily's mouth, as her arousal gushed out.

Emily moaned with pleasure, a wave of happiness coursing through her entire body.

***

The next morning, Emily awoke to find herself alone in bed again, just like the previous morning in San Diego.

What does that woman have against waking up with me?

Of course, who was she to talk? She wouldn't exactly categorize herself as relationship averse, but on the other hand when she wasn't in a relationship—which was most of the time—she typically preferred her various lovers to be gone by morning.

Was that what Priscilla was trying to tell her? We've had our fun, now catch the next flight back to the mainland.

After considering that for a moment, Emily discarded the theory. Priscilla wouldn't have brought her all this way—and made a show of doing it by using her private plane—only to tell her to scram after one night of intense sex.

In fact, she really believed that Priscilla was enjoying spending time with her. Instinctually, she truly believed that. She was picking up on signals that one woman could detect from another, signals that were telling her that Priscilla was into her…and in a manner that went well beyond Priscilla's obvious desire to just play with her, to just string her along and fuck with her mind with regards to The Young Shepherdess.

Proof of that lay in the fact that Priscilla was spending any time with her at all…

Logistically, the case against Priscilla as the mastermind of the theft at the San Diego Museum of Art was dead in the water. Legally, there were no more avenues to explore. No more warrants to obtain, no more surveillance the police would provide, and no chance of tapping her phones or getting authorization to hack into her emails or other online files.

What's more, Tom had been right when he had said that Priscilla, now wise to the fact that she was a suspect, would most likely hide The Young Shepherdess somewhere no one would ever find it, thus protecting herself even more.

All of this meant that Priscilla could have swept Emily out of her life completely by now.

Of course, Emily felt it tracked that Priscilla would have enjoyed fucking her first, just so she could truly have the last laugh, but then why had Priscilla brought her here, to Hawaii?

That why was creating a niggling thought in Emily's mind that wouldn't leave her alone, but which she was also afraid to bring forward to ponder.

"Fuck it," Emily said so softly that even she barely heard her voice.

Maybe she likes me. As in…really likes me.

It was a pleasing thought, frightening as it was. Pleasing because the reality was that she liked being with Priscilla.

It went beyond the sex, which was mind-blowing and allowed Emily to experience and explore a part of her sexual nature and desires which she had always kept a lid on.

She just liked being with Priscilla!

The woman was smart, funny, and a force of nature. In a lot of ways they were very much alike, yet there were still enough differences to make it interesting.

And whereas all other women eventually bored her, Emily knew that could never happen with Priscilla. When one had the resources a Priscilla Kroyn had, there was little excuse for boring to be part of one's character.

What's more, those resources were seductive. In the short time since she had more or less forced herself into Priscilla's orbit, she had felt herself being…affected by the trappings of Priscilla's life.

Seaside mansion.

Limousines.

Household servants.

Private plane.

Being able to whisk someone off to Hawaii without warning.

It was seductive.

Emily knew how shallow that made her, but nonetheless there it was.

It was stupid, though…trying to imagine a life with Priscilla. Putting aside the fact that she still believed Priscilla was an art thief, how likely was it that Priscilla really did want more than just a few fun days with her?

"Okay," she said softly again, "time to get up."

She adjusted herself on the bed so she could look around the room, to see if there was any clue of where Priscilla might be. Her eyes caught sight of something which made her squint, not entirely sure what she was seeing.

What the fuck…?

It was The Young Shepherdess.

Only, it wasn't really. It was a postcard-size reproduction of the painting, and it had been taped to a bureau made of glossy black wood.

"Bitch!" Emily muttered, getting out of bed, completely nude, and approaching the piece of furniture.

Taking the postcard in hand, she read the message handwritten on the back of it…

Wow, you sleep a lot! ??

I'm on the lanai downstairs, looking forward to you joining me.

FYI, your clothes are inside.

Emily opened the bureau and gasped. There were several outfits hanging up inside, including a number of sundresses. Inside a series of drawers, she found panties and bras, as well as pajama sets. Along the bottom of the bureau were a variety of sandals and a couple of pairs of good walking sneakers.

And everything was her size.

She crossed her arms under her breasts and stared at all the clothing.

Yep…seductive…

***

She chose pj shorts and a pink tank to wear, remaining braless underneath it.

When she found her way to the lanai, she discovered Priscilla lounging on a sofa, a mug of coffee within reach, and her iPad in her hands.

Priscilla put the tablet down and got up to greet her with a very pleasant kiss that lasted a good half a minute.

"Mm, I have been waiting to do that," she purred when the kiss broke, her arms still wrapped around Emily's waist.

Emily smiled, touched by that statement. But was it just part of Priscilla's game?

She hated being this confused around anyone, but especially around a woman she was involved with.

Who was she supposed to be now, at this moment?

The intrepid insurance investigator who was—as she put it—prostituting herself to retrieve a stolen artwork?

Or just a woman who wanted to believe she was actually being wooed by the Priscilla Kroyn?

For that matter, who was Priscilla being now, at this moment?

The conniving and clever bitch who had somehow managed to steal a painting from one of the most popular museums in Southern California?

Or just a woman who was here in Hawaii with another woman she really liked, and whom she had been waiting all morning to kiss?

Emily's arms were draped over Priscilla's shoulders. She used one of her hands to play with the fine hairs at the nape of Priscilla's neck.

"Why are you never in bed with me when I wake up?" she asked. "That's twice now."

Priscilla cocked an eyebrow.

"Would that make you happy?" she asked.

Emily's clit pulsed, remembering how Priscilla had used that word last night. Reflexively, she licked her lips.

"You have to cut me some slack," Priscilla went on. "I'm not used to waking up with anyone. I've forgotten the protocols for when I do." Her brow furrowed. "Sooooo…am I supposed to lie there staring at my manicure until you finally wake up? Or…what? Can I at least read the Wall Street Journal on my iPad?"

Emily laughed and rolled her eyes.

"You can nudge me and tell me to get my lazy ass out of bed," she suggested. She then scoffed. "What is it about being with you? I always sleep later than I normally do when I'm at your house."

Priscilla grinned.

"Okay, then…" she began. "In that case, perhaps we shouldn't have sex tonight. I'm willing to bet the sex is wearing you out. You might want to check if you have an iron deficiency."

Emily narrowed her eyes.

"Fuck you," she said.

But Priscilla shook her head.

"Only before eight p.m.," she replied.

Emily laughed.

"Kiss me so you'll shut you up," she said.

They kissed just as deeply as the first one this morning, and Emily thought it was heavenly.

"Coffee!" she exclaimed afterwards. "I smell it, and I need it!"

There was a coffee urn and two mugs set on a table before the sofa.

"Allow me," Priscilla offered, dispensing a mugful of coffee for Emily. The two of them then sat down. "And would you like breakfast?"

"Yes, please," Emily said. "What are my choices?"

"Anything," Priscilla told her. She picked up a small bell and rang it.

"I thought people only did that in movies and Jane Austen books," Emily quipped.

"Oh, I know," Priscilla said. "I actually hate it. It makes me feel like a bedridden old woman, but it's classier than shouting." She shrugged.

An older gentleman appeared. His slight frame was dressed in beige linen pants, huaraches, and a dark-blue linen shirt. Emily politely asked him for two scrambled eggs and diced fruit.

"What about a blueberry muffin?" Priscilla suggested. "Keno makes the best blueberry muffins!"

"Um…sure," Emily said. "And a blueberry muffin, please."

"Make that two, please, Keno," Priscilla told the man. She looked at Emily. "I've been waiting for you to wake up before I had one!"

As Emily started sipping her coffee, she looked around the lanai. It was larger than most, with one end open to the outside, showing the tropical plants landscaping the backyard. Emily thought she could hear a waterfall somewhere close by. The overall effect was very peaceful, and it was certainly a nice way to start the day.

As her eyes continued to examine the space, she noticed the crate, and then her eyes stopped and stared at it.

It was the same crate she had noticed being offloaded from the plane yesterday. It was resting upright against one of the walls, almost hidden in a shadowed corner the natural light that streamed into the lanai didn't quite reach.

Being who she was, and what she had been hired to do, Emily couldn't help but recognize that the crate was the right size and shape…

"Oh, that…" Priscilla said, evidently noticing Emily's interest. "I meant to have that stored somewhere else last night, but…well, you remember last night. I still owe you pi?a coladas, by the way."

"Riiiiiight…" Emily drawled, biting her bottom lip while continuing to stare at the box. Without taking her eyes off it, she took another sip of coffee.

"Go ahead and open it!" Priscilla said. "This way you could put it out of your mind and enjoy Keno's blueberry muffin."

Emily turned her head to look at her host with a playful glare, suddenly wise to what Priscilla was up to.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" she said, smirking. "What are you gonna do? Take a picture of my face when I realize the painting in the crate isn't The Young Shepherdess, but rather…I don't know…a picture of Mickey Mouse giving Donald Duck a blowjob?"

Priscilla laughed.

"Suit yourself," she said, leaning back on the sofa and sipping her coffee. "But I like the Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck idea. Perhaps I'll use that next time."

Emily looked around the lanai again. For the first time, she noticed that one end of the veranda appeared to have a balcony, overlooking open space.

She put her coffee down, stood up, and walked over to it. Leaning over the railing, she saw that there was a drop of about twelve feet, and at the bottom of it was a very thick hedge lining what looked like a driveway.

Turning around, she gave Priscilla another smirk, and then walked over to the crate.

It was taller than herself, approximately three feet wide, and about eight inches deep. She discovered that was able to grasp it and shove it easily along the tiled floor, all the way to the balcony. Once there, she leaned it against the railing at a steep angle, squatted down, grabbed the bottom edge of the crate, and then toppled it over the balcony. She heard it crash into the hedge below and then looked down to survey her handiwork.

Satisfied, she nodded, wiped her hands against one another, and returned to the sofa where she sat down, calmly picked up her mug of coffee, and started sipping from it.

She glanced at Priscilla who had an intrigued and pensive look on her face.

"Wow!" Priscilla muttered after a few moments.

Emily shrugged.

"That's what I think of your Disney character blowjob painting," she said casually.

"Well, you sure do know how to make a point," Priscilla said. "Of course, the gardener is going to hate you."

"Extend my apologies, please," Emily said.

Priscilla nodded.

"Certainly," she said.

They remained silent for about a minute.

"Outside…" Priscilla finally said, thoughtfully. "Not exactly where I was planning on having that hung."

"Oh no?" Emily said a few heartbeats later. Suddenly, she was feeling worried. "Um…where were you going to hang it?"

"In my library," Priscilla answered. "I haven't shown you that room yet."

"No," Emily said. "Is it nice?"

"Very!" Priscilla replied quickly. "I chose not to go with a Hawaiian theme in there…"

Emily's heart was beginning to race.

This fucking woman…

Not even five minutes ago she had been one-hundred percent certain that the crate she had just dropped over the balcony did not contain The Young Shepherdess. She was also one-hundred percent certain it did not contain a picture of Mickey Mouse giving Donald Duck a blowjob, but rather some other form of…joke picture, just so Priscilla could have another laugh.

The Young Shepherdess dressed as a Vegas showgirl, perhaps.

The Young Shepherdesswith a mustache and blonde hair, maybe.

But not the actual painting!

However…

Knowing Priscilla's mind the way she did, wasn't it possible that the painting in the crate was actually The Young Shepherdess?

After all, Priscilla—being as diabolically clever as she was—probably knew Emily would suspect that what was in the crate wasn't the stolen painting, and thus wouldn't care much about it…simply to avoid being tricked again.

Of course—Emily was thinking now—Priscilla probably hadn't counted on her flinging the crate over the balcony. But that made Emily happy. It made her feel as though she had at least some control over what Priscilla expected her to do.

But that happiness was fleeting. She was really beginning to worry that she had just dropped The Young Shepherdess down to the ground below.

Or maybe even something more valuable.

The only thing she could think of to do now was reply to Priscilla's last statement. About the library.

"Good!" she replied, staring straight ahead into the middle distance. "The whole Hawaiian theme tends to get overdone here. You know…in Hawaii."

Personally, she hated tropical-themed décor.

"In California too," Priscilla replied in a distracted tone. It was that distracted tone that was worrying Emily. Priscilla seemed…not quite troubled but certainly preoccupied.

Fuck it…

"So…that wasn't The Young Shepherdess, was it?" Emily asked, now looking at Priscilla out of the corner of her eye.

Priscilla simply shook her head.

"So…what was it?" Emily prodded.

"Just a lovely Klimt I happen to have picked up about a month ago in Berlin," Priscilla said. She was staring into the distance.

"A Klimt, huh?" Emily said. "Like, a really good print?"

Please say yes!

Priscilla shook her head slowly.

Emily's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach.

She carefully watched Priscilla, looking for a sign—a slight upturn of the corners of her mouth, an impish sparkle in her eyes—anything to show that this was part of another game. But she got nothing.

"Aargh!" she screamed, putting her coffee down again. She stood up and started storming towards the door leading out of the lanai. "Oh my god, I hate you! Tell me the fastest way to get down there!"