Unveil (Alchemy, #3)

by Elodie Hart

This book is for everyone who’s had to teach themselves sex positivity because it was never modelled for them. I see you.

‘Well,’ I say, dragging out the word like I’m trying to recall what he said, exactly. As if it’s not emblazoned on my pussy’s brain already.

And what’s downright disturbing is that he’s propositioned me time and time again, and I’ve turned him down again and again because I’m too fucking scared of how he’d make me feel if I handed my body over to him, and now I have to watch some other woman take pleasure that should be mine and give him pleasure that should be mine to give.

Darcy grins. ‘You’re such a self-sabotaging twat. Let me guess—now you’re gagging for his cock?’

But I can only do that when you let go’—he leans in closer and enunciates—‘and embrace your shame. It’s only when you give into being dirty and shameless and wanton, and name your desires, and ask for what you need, that you can feel fully liberated. Am I right?’

‘Tell us why this turns you on so much.’ His voice is quiet, controlled, but there’s also a note of hunger that I can’t deny. A note that tells me I’m not the only vulnerable party here. Everyone is turned on. The magic in this room is affecting everyone.

‘That’s it,’ I croon. ‘I know how much you like to come, you dirty little thing. Rub your clit against me as hard as you can. I want to hear you.’

It’s an angry kiss. A why the fuck did you make me wait kiss. A look how fucking good it is between us, you idiot kiss. An I can’t believe you were trying to deny this kiss.

I attracted the attention of this devastating wolf, and I let him lure me into his lair, and know he’s going to use me and use me till he’s sated his appetites on me, and he’ll wreck me and ruin me, and I’ll fucking love every second.

She pushes on. ‘That’s not what I mean. Yeah, of course I’m jealous you’ve been with her. But I mean I’m jealous that she got to be used like that by you, whenever you wanted. Because that’s my ultimate fantasy.’

I abandon myself to him. To our kiss. I’ve never been one of those dainty women men can sling over their shoulders or pick up with one arm. In fact, my mother has distinctly referred to me as ‘a big girl’ on more than one occasion. But he’s so massive, and protective, and so fucking alpha that right now I feel positively waif-like.

We’ve both been fragmenting ourselves. Keeping our true needs veiled while we show a version of ourselves to the world in different ways. In many ways I’ve been more transparent than she has, but I’ve still tried and failed to succeed in three marriages where I’ve subjugated my own needs.

That’s the allure of being with her. I’ve spent the evening in my kitchen, enjoying a wonderful, thought-provoking, entertaining conversation that’s filled my soul with joy. And now, instead of taking her to bed and making polite, perfunctory love to her, I get to do whatever the fuck I like to her in the knowledge that not only can she take it, but she wants it. She fucking craves it. She needs me to tear her apart in that precise way, just as I need her to let me.

‘I’m trying to say you have me in your corner, sweetheart. Permanently. Not because you’re weak or inadequate or you need me, but because every human deserves to have someone who’ll always be on their team. I’ll always be Team Gen. And woe betide anyone who tries to hurt you. Consider me your personal pit-bull.’

‘Because what we have is raw and authentic, and it feeds our souls. And I can’t live without it, sweetheart. I love you so much. So much. It seems amazing to me that I ever thought anything else was love, because this is…’ I trail off. I can barely articulate what I feel for Gen. ‘You are the real deal,’ I tell her. ‘You’re everything I’ve been looking for in a woman, my whole life, and I will do anything—anything—to make sure you never have cause to doubt me again. Do you understand?’

Gen stripped bare for me, every sacred spot on her body mine to play with. To sample. To devour. Nothing on that flawless skin of hers except the choker that signifies my claim to her and any marks I should choose to leave with my hands and my teeth and my lips.