CHAPTER 474: CHAPTER 474: WHAT DID I SIGN UP FOR (PART 4) (R-18)

Several minutes later, Don was back behind the wheel.

The Mustang slid down the stretch of road toward the distant silhouette of Ebon Crest Tower, reflections skating along the hood as the city rolled past. He leaned back into the seat, one hand loose on the wheel.

The track jacket he wore—black with red stripes and SHU stamped bold across the chest—hung unzipped halfway, chain catching the occasional gleam of the light as it shifted against his shirt.

A ping lit the dash. Don’s eyes flicked to the screen.

Gary.

He didn’t bother answering. He just eased the car forward, engine growling steady underfoot.

Minutes later, the Mustang dipped into the familiar private car park. The air carried the faint scent of polish and chemicals—android cleaners on rotation, their metal arms wiping wax across Charles’s lineup of exotic toys.

Chrome and candy paint gleamed under the overhead LEDs. Don spared the rows one glance before swinging into his usual spot.

Engine cut. Door open. The Mustang gave a low chirp as he locked it with a thumb-press, the key vanishing into his pocket.

Phone in hand now, he scrolled while walking. A new message waited.

Gary: Well, I didn’t quite expect this.

The attachments loaded in sequence as his shoes tapped across the concrete.

First photo: the same vehicle he’d tracked earlier, nosed into the parking lot of some high-end restaurant.

Second: the woman stepping out. Coat gone. Glasses off. Her face clean under the glow of chandeliers behind her.

Final close-up: young, sharp features. Recognition locked in the instant Don saw it.

Ashley Richmond.

"Ashley Richmond. Daughter of Councilman Gerald Richmond—Finance Committee chair, purse-strings of half the city’s projects. And, of course, current partner of Andrew Barclay."

Don’s brow furrowed. He scrolled back once, twice, as if the images might shift into something more reasonable. They didn’t. He slid the phone away without a reply and kept walking, the elevator doors whispering open ahead.

The ride was silent.

By the time his door opened onto the penthouse suite, the weight of it was still pressing in the back of his mind.

And then—he wasn’t thinking about Gary anymore.

Once he made it to his bed, he found Trixie stretched like a cat that had learned too many human tricks.

Black-and-pink lace panties clung low to her hips, the oversized shirt draped from his wardrobe hanging just enough to frame it.

She arched down into the mattress, chest pressed flat, arms stretched forward, her rear rising slow in a pose that looked stolen from yoga and weaponized without shame.

The door slid wider. She paused, head tilting back, and her smile met him with a flicker of mischief in her eyes.

"Well... hello there."

Don stepped in, door shutting behind him softly. He didn’t answer right away. He just slipped his phone back out and tapped Gary’s name.

The dial tone filled the air.

Meanwhile Trixie shifted, rolling her weight forward and prowling to the bed’s edge. Each slow crawl had her tail flicking side to side, a predator’s rhythm dressed in playful intent.

The line clicked.

"Good afternoon, sir," Gary’s voice came smooth. "I take it you’ve seen my latest messages?"

"Yes," Don said, gaze still on the bed. "Though I can’t say I get what’s going on. Hard to believe Barclay’s just having an affair with his son’s girlfriend."

Gary chuckled, short and audible. "Though possible, I doubt that’s the whole picture. I did more digging. I think the true reason for this little pairing is something larger. I can’t confirm it yet... but I know a way to."

Trixie licked her lips and tilted her chin up toward Don, parting her mouth in a deliberate feed me gesture. Her eyes glinted, voice silent but clear in expression.

Gary’s voice pressed on: "Would you be available for a mission tonight, sir?"

Don didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at her—tail flicking, grin widening as her finger pointed into her mouth.

Finally, he spoke. "I think I’ll be free, yes. I just need to take care of one more thing..."

"Okay," Gary replied smoothly. "I shall await your feedback."

Don ended the call with a tap, sliding the phone into his pocket without breaking eye contact. Trixie’s grin curled wider, her golden eyes shimmering with anticipation.

"Finally," she purred, fingers hooking under the hem of the stolen shirt. She peeled it up slowly, letting the fabric drag over her skin before tossing it aside.

The cool air hit her bare chest, her pert breasts bouncing faintly with the motion. Pink nipples stiffened instantly, already pebbled under his gaze.

Trixie licked her lips, pink tongue dragging slow over her teeth before dipping lower, letting her knees sink into the crumpled sheets.

Her hands slid up her ribs, fingers pressing into the soft swell of her own breasts—squeezing just enough to make the flushed peaks pucker tighter.

Mm~

A low moan escaped her as she rolled her thumbs over her nipples, the slick heat between her thighs already smearing sticky against her inner skin.

Don watched, mouth dry, as he shrugged off his track jacket. The fabric ruffled against his arms before hitting the floor.

Don peeled his shirt off next, the fabric dragging over his shoulders before dropping to the floor. His abs flexed under the dim light.

Trixie’s pupils dilated, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Mm~

She slithered forward on her knees, fingers pressing into the mattress as she leaned in, her breath hot against his skin.

"You look tasty," Trixie breathed, her tongue sliding out to trace a slow, wet line up the hard ridges of Don’s abs.

Saliva glistened in her wake, her lips dragging hot and soft over his skin.

lick~

Her mouth climbed higher, pausing at his chest—her teeth grazing just hard enough to leave faint pink marks before she pulled back with a cheeky mwah~

Then she rose, standing fully on the rumpled bed, the elevated surface bringing her almost eye-level with him.

Don smirked, hands sliding forward to grip the perfect swell of her ass, fingers pressing deep into flesh.

The thin lace of her panties did nothing to hide how warm and soft she was underneath—already damp, already clinging to her skin.

Trixie gasped playfully, arms looping around his neck as his thumbs dug in, kneading the supple curve where thigh met cheek.

Mm~

Her tail flicked against his wrist, the thin appendage twitching with every firm squeeze. She rocked her hips forward, grinding the soaked fabric against his abdomen, leaving a feeling of warmth against his skin.

Don smirked, thumbs digging deeper into her ass. "Someone seems eager."

Trixie’s tail flicked with restless energy. "Can ya blame me? I’m soooo hungry~"

The breathy whine curled against his throat as she nipped at his collarbone. Don’s grip tightened, fingers exploring the yielding flesh as he hauled her closer.

"Let’s fix that."