Charles Theodore személy

When he comes around the corner, I can’t control the smile that breaks out across my face. He looks so handsome, in his old Mac’s t-shirt and low slung jeans with a peek of that sexy “V” showing.
He’s all mine. My sexy southern bartender to knock boots with.
“Looks like you went through a good number of boxes in the living room,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as he comes into the room.

The metallic chime of the security system alerts me that somebody opened the front door. I huddle under the covers, waiting for him. He’s going to shower before he joins me, and I’ll probably drift asleep. But he always kisses me first thing.