He stepped closer, placing a hand on her knee. His touch was warm, proprietary. "You said you wanted to see the real me. This is it. The playboy isn't about the women. It's about the swing. The power to move someone exactly where you want them, exactly how fast, and know they'll come back to you."
"I'm going to be sick," she said.
It wasn't a sex thing. Not for her, anyway.
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."
She did. And she hated how much she liked it.
"You're wrong," she said. "The real you isn't the swing. The real you is the floor. Cold, hard, and waiting for someone to fall."
Contenuto consigliato
He stepped closer, placing a hand on her knee. His touch was warm, proprietary. "You said you wanted to see the real me. This is it. The playboy isn't about the women. It's about the swing. The power to move someone exactly where you want them, exactly how fast, and know they'll come back to you."
"I'm going to be sick," she said.
It wasn't a sex thing. Not for her, anyway. playboy 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." He stepped closer, placing a hand on her knee
She did. And she hated how much she liked it. This is it
"You're wrong," she said. "The real you isn't the swing. The real you is the floor. Cold, hard, and waiting for someone to fall."
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