Playboy Swing < EXTENDED >

Her stomach lurched. "Leo. Stop."

But then the angle shifted. Leo had a remote in his hand. He pressed a button, and the chains began to slowly twist, rotating the swing in a lazy spiral while it continued its arc. The city spun. The mirrors multiplied her reflection a dozen times, a dozen Mias, all of them dizzy, all of them his. playboy swing

That was the moment Mia understood the playboy swing. It wasn't a sex toy. It wasn't even about power. It was a filter. He put every woman on it to see if she would beg, or cry, or laugh, or get angry. Her reaction was just another data point. Another entry in his ledger of conquests. Her stomach lurched

"Stop the swing."

He didn't help her down. He just walked back to the couch, picked up his drink, and said, "Most girls cry after. You can, if you want." Leo had a remote in his hand

She swung forward, the chains whispering. The city lights blurred. For a moment, it was just motion—pure, childish joy. She laughed for real this time.