Page 78 of Chosen By Swift

It struck her suddenly. Swift had made this handshake agreement with Shear years before she had come into his life. In his culture, breaking a promise was the ultimate taboo. It was a question of honor, and a dishonored male was lower than dirt in their world. She couldn’t bear the thought of Swift being an outcast for trying to protect her from a mistake he had made when he was younger and stupider.

How far was she willing to go for him? He was willing to give her up and set her free. Was she willing to trade one night with a stranger for a lifetime of marriage to Swift?

But what if he couldn’t look at her the same way again? What if he found her disgusting or dirty? Used and undesirable?

Alys opened the bedroom door. Swift stood and pivoted toward her. She was taken aback by the streaks of tears glistening on his face. She had never seen a grown man cry. He seemed ashamed by it and roughly wiped his face with his palms.

Her anger toward him faded some. She could see he was disgusted with himself. She believed he would do anything to go back in time and fix his mistakes.

“If I have sex with this man, Shear, will you still want me after?”

Swift’s jaw dropped in shock. “If you—? Alys, nothing will ever stop me from wanting you. Nothing will ever stop me from desiring you, from needing you.”

She studied his face in search for any sign that he was lying. She realized he was being truthful. Curious, she asked, “Do couples do this often here? Share their spouses?”

He nodded. “It’s common. It’s why I didn’t see any problem making those stupid trades. So many couples share or play with others. I didn’t ever imagine that my mate wouldn’t enjoy it. I didn’t understand how wrong I was until it was too late.”

“And what if I do enjoy it?” she wondered, still aroused by the images she had seen. “What if I enjoy having relations with this other man more than you?”

Swift’s expression darkened. “You won’t.”

“Why not?” She was genuinely curious. She wasn’t trying to bait him or push his buttons. She wasn’t trying to make him feel bad. “I’ve only ever made love to you, and it was so good. Doesn’t it follow that if I make love to another man it could be just as good or better?”

“It better not,” he growled, suddenly possessive.

She frowned. “So, you want me to be miserable? To not enjoy it?”

“No! I don’t—.” He stopped and seemed as if he didn’t know what he meant or wanted. Finally, he admitted, “I don’t want you to grin and bear it. I want you to enjoy it, but I don’t want you to enjoy him more than me.”

“And if I do?” Now, she was pushing his buttons. Just a little. Just to see how he would react.

“Then I'm going to tie you to our bed and fuck you with my tongue and cock until you change your mind,” he promised, his dark gaze searing her skin.

“I’m holding you to that.” Images of Swift doing wicked, wicked things to her flashed through her mind. Giddiness bubbled inside her, leaving her feeling wildly excited. It was all very confusing, but she knew one thing for sure. “I’m the one who makes the rules if we do this. I’m the one who decides how he can touch me and where and how far he can go. If he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with the sexual ethics committee.”

Swift seemed taken aback again. “You’re being very matter-of-fact about this.”

“Do you want me to fall to pieces? To wail and scream and be dramatic?”

“No.”

“I’m a practical woman, Swift. I’m approaching this situation the way I’ve done everything else in my life. I’ve looked at my options, and I’ve made my choice.”

“You don’t have to and you can back out at any time,” Swift said, his guilt still evident on his face.

“I know my rights,” she assured him. In fact, she said rather brazenly, “I’d like to exercise those rights now with you.”

Swift’s eyes widened. “You want me to—? Right now? After what I did?”

“Yes. Right now.” She gulped as she felt something wild and erotic unfurl inside her. Lifting her chin, she commanded, “Show me how truly sorry you are about this.”

Chapter Eighteen

Of all the ways Swift had anticipated Alys might react, this wasn’t one of them. When she had run off to their bedroom, he had expected her to emerge with her bag packed and demanding to leave. For her to come out and take control, to give him orders, was wholly unexpected—and outrageously arousing.

His anguish disappeared with her command to show her how sorry he was. Standing there in her modest dress, her hair braided so simply, she looked the epitome of a gentle and sheltered woman. For her to issue the demands of a dominatrix, ordering him to use his body to give her pleasure as an apology, sent a streak of heat right to his groin. He wanted to earn her forgiveness.

“Should I crawl to you?” he asked, fully prepared to do just that.

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