Chapter 42
Emily, completely nude and straddling Priscilla's face, knew the tipping point was fast approaching. She didn't want to pull her pussy away from Priscilla's mouth, which was expertly working on her clit, but she had orders.
"Fuck!" she said, her voice strained. "I'm close! You better let go!"
Immediately, Priscilla pulled her mouth away and took her hands off Emily's hips, which she had been clutching tightly.
Emily groaned when the sensations of being eaten out ceased, but she leaned back, supporting herself on her left arm, tilting her pelvis up, her pussy pointed at Priscilla's head. As quick as she could, she started fucking herself with two fingers of her right hand, going hard at it and driving them in deep with each inward thrust. As she did this, her palm slapped wetly against her pulsating and swollen clit, and meanwhile, Priscilla stared at what was happening with wide eyes.
"Unnnnngh…fuuuuuuuuuuck!" Emily squealed as her core began detonating with tiny explosions, indicating the start of the chain reaction. "Oh fuck! Here it comes!Oh fuck! NNNNNNNNNNGH!"
She smiled when she started climaxing not only because of the pleasure, but because her pussy was giving Priscilla what she wanted. Her warm arousal was spurting out of her liberally, right onto Priscilla's body. She slightly spread the fingers she was still fucking herself with. She had learned long ago that it had the effect of causing her spray to spread further as it emerged from her depths.
"Oh, good girl!" Priscilla exclaimed. "Such a fucking good girl!"
Emily was still crying out. This orgasm was intense! Priscilla had spent the past hour building it up in her using a variety of methods, but always denying her when she got too close. Now, it was such a relief to unleash it. She wouldn't have cared if she hadn't squirted. Priscilla enjoyed it, yes…and Emily was glad to have done it for her. But all she cared about was that she had gotten her release, and it had been tremendous.
She managed to open her eyes and look down at her lover…
Priscilla had clearly been splashed well. Her face had clear droplets of Emily's arousal on it, there were other droplets in her hair, and the hollow of her throat was filled.
"Oh fuck, I got you good!" Emily gasped out, her passage spasming strongly at the sight.
"Turn over, babe!" Priscilla ordered.
Emily knew what was wanted. As her climax continued to ravage her core, she quickly repositioned herself atop Priscilla. Now they were sixty-nining, and Emily dove right in to begin eating Priscilla out.
Priscilla was soaked! Her entire vulva, and even her mound, was wet and sticky, and her folds swollen.
Emily immediately focused on Priscilla's clit, and felt especially gratified when Priscilla came undone in mere seconds. Feeling Priscilla's pussy begin rhythmically twitching against her face, combined with the fact that Priscilla never took her mouth away from her pussy as she orgasmed, set Emily off again. Her entire lower half became awash in white-hot pleasure because of the new climax. Unlike Priscilla, however, she needed to scream. Pulling her mouth away from the redhead's sex, she arched her neck, lifting her face, and shrieked…a banshee cry which she had no doubt could be heard throughout the entire mansion.
***
The very expensive duvet covering Priscilla's bed was wrecked by the time they were done. Emily had squirted twice while they'd had sex, the duvet bearing the brunt of the liquid expulsions, although one of the pillows had gotten quite damp as well.
Priscilla wasn't entirely blameless for the condition of the duvet, however. Both women had left plenty of wet spots on the thick bed covering as they had moved about while fucking one another.
After they had cleaned themselves up by showering together, Priscilla had stripped the duvet off the bed and carelessly tossed it on the floor in a corner. She then disappeared into a smaller room for a few moments before returning with another duvet, neatly folded. Emily helped her put it on the bed, and then they both got under the sheets and snuggled in, lying on their sides, facing each other…two women who were supremely happy to be together.
"So, an interesting thing happened at the San Diego Museum of Art earlier today," Emily began.
"Is that so?" Priscilla replied.
"Mm-hm," Emily said, nodding. "Turns out their Rembrandt was stolen."
Priscilla's eyebrows shot up.
"Goodness!" she exclaimed. "You don't say!"
Emily nodded.
"In broad daylight," she said.
Priscilla sighed.
"Such a shame," she said sorrowfully. "First The Young Shepherdess, and now the Rembrandt."
"Well, the thing is," Emily began, "it turns out The Young Shepherdess was returned to the museum. I mean, it has to be examined, of course, to determine if it is indeed the painting, but something tells me it will prove to be the one."
"I am so happy to hear that!" Priscilla said. "And what will you do with that hundred-thousand dollar finder's fee?"
"Not collect it, unfortunately," Emily said ruefully. "Technically, I didn't find the painting. A little girl in the gift shop did."
"Good for her," Priscilla replied. "Well…you must be relieved that the mystery is solved. I know how much it was keeping you awake at night."
Emily stared at her, smirking.
"Yes, I'm very happy the mystery is solved," she replied. "One less thing for me to worry about."
"Although now I suppose the missing Rembrandt is what will keep you awake at night?" Priscilla suggested.
"No," Emily stated. "See…as it turns out, Geneva Excess—the company I work for—doesn't insure the Rembrandt. So, I will have no involvement in trying to locate it."
"None at all?" Priscilla asked.
Emily shook her head.
"Not even a little bit," she answered. "And now that The Young Shepherdess has been returned—by whoever stole it—I feel free to…focus on other things."
Priscilla smiled.
"I'm glad," she said. "I was thinking that it would be nice to talk about us for a change."
"Okay, let's do that," Emily prompted.
"I like how you feel in my life," Priscilla said. She then rolled her eyes. "I mean…you talk too much about stolen paintings, and having sex with you means much more frequent washing of my bed linens—"
"As if you're the one who has to wash them," Emily commented snidely. "Do you even know where your laundry room is?"
Priscilla opened her mouth as though to answer, but after a moment, shut it again.
"No," she admitted. "But it must be in this house somewhere, right? I mean, can they legally sell me a house this size without it having a laundry room?"
Emily laughed. She liked how Priscilla felt in her life as well.
"I like how you feel in my life too," she said aloud. She then rolled her eyes. "I mean…you're obscenely wealthy, and I have a sneaking suspicion you enjoy a secret life of crime, but…" She reached forward and stroked Priscilla's red hair. "I want to try this with you."
Priscilla's eyes narrowed.
"Do you think we have a chance?" she asked.
Emily held her eyes as she contemplated the question.
"I think so, yeah," she answered honestly. "In any case, I think you and I have as much of a right to at least try as anyone else does."
"I agree," Priscilla said.
"Although…" Emily added as a thought came to her.
"Although…?" Priscilla prodded.
Emily quirked an eyebrow.
"Why don't we agree—right now—to never discuss Rembrandt in any way, shape, or form," she said.
"But he's one of my favorites!" Priscilla protested.
Emily chuckled.
"I'm sure he is!" she stated. "But let's steer clear of him…and his paintings."
"Fine!" Priscilla said with a theatrical sigh. She then smiled brightly. "Now…I have an idea! Let's celebrate us becoming us by taking a trip!"
Emily returned the smile eagerly.
"Love it!" she replied. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"
Priscilla nodded.
"Paris!" she said. "Lately, I've had an unusual desire to spend some time at the Louvre…"