Charlie was dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and black tailored pants—a look that was both casual and commanding. He felt the weight of anticipation settle in his gut as he awaited the arrival of his dream companion, a figure he’d long imagined but never fully named.
End of Dream 13.
Charlie’s reply was a low, breathless moan, the sound vibrating through the leather of her suit. “Yes,” he managed, his voice thick with need. “It feels… powerful.”