The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck Read Online Kylie Scott

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
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“I, um...”

“Think, Lilah. Have you been tested?”

I squeeze my eyelids shut. “Yes to testing. No to unprotected sex. I’m also on birth control.”

“Okay. What do you want to do?”

“You...” I lick my lips and try not to rock. Holding still has never been this hard. “You feel so good. This is a hell of a time to be having this conversation.”

“Do we stop and suit up or stay as we are? What do you want?”

“You’re fine with bare?”

“Yes,” he says with no hesitation. “It’s your choice.”

With my palms flat against his chest for purchase, I finally give in and gyrate my hips. His eyes roll back in his head. It’s gratifying to see. His grip on my thighs tightens, and then he moves his hands higher. All the better to lift me and slam me back down. And I am more than happy to go along with it. Heck. I’m happy to ride him all on my own. Having him between my thighs is always a guaranteed good time. And feeling how hot he is, the ridges in his cock, the way he grunts like a caveman as he urges me on. Faster. Harder.

The thick length of him rubs me just the right way. Every nerve ending in me is paying attention to what we’re doing. It’s an elemental combination of heat and electricity. A thrilling magical thing. That’s how it feels to have him inside me and beneath me and grabbing hold of me.

“Fuck, this is going to be fast. Eyes here, Lilah,” he says, and grabs hold of my throat. His hand is like a brand against my skin. And he looks at me like he never wants to let go. I know exactly how he feels. Sheer sensation spreads out from my sex and takes me over. From my flesh and skin right down to my bones. I’d like this to last longer. But my orgasm races through me like there’s no time to lose. Like every second matters.

My whole body spasms. All those inner muscles tighten on him, milking him dry. Watching him coming would have been nice. But I am lost to the stars and some deep inner or outer space. I don’t know. Orgasms don’t usually send me interstellar. It’s like my world got spun around and around, leaving me with no idea of up or down. All I can do is cling to him, to hold on tight. And he does the same.

His hand soothes up and down my back for I don’t know how long. I stay collapsed on his chest where I landed. It’s all his fault anyway. I don’t know how to think or feel or anything. How dare sex with him be this good.

“About the soulmates idea,” he says eventually.

“Ali,” I mumble, “don’t even go there.”

“I’m just saying, it’s an interesting thought. It would certainly explain how we got so entangled so quickly.”

“We’re entangled?”

“Amongst other things.” He wraps a strand of my hair carefully around his finger. “If it wasn’t tied to the bollocks prediction about you dying tomorrow, which is still absolutely not fucking happening—thank you very much—it might be worth looking into.”

“That’s a big change of attitude coming from you.”

He just grunts.

“Is that your way of saying you like me?” I joke.

“You could take it that way, Leannan. Though I would have thought telling your parents we were engaged would have given that away.”

“Guess I’m slow sometimes.”

“Great sex will do that to you.” He presses a kiss to my head. “Go to sleep, Lilah. You’re safe with me. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know that.” I climb off him and collapse onto the bed at his side. “Do you think they leaked the engagement story to the press to try and scare me off? Then when that didn’t immediately work, your father decided to visit?”

“I honestly have no idea,” he says. “But whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll deal with it. Together.”

21

Sunday

“Leannan,” a voice whispers in my ear. “Wake up.”

My eyes open to find Alistair staring down at me. What a wonderful sight to see first thing in the morning. He carefully brushes my hair out of my face with a distracted smile. No idea how long he’s been up for, but he’s already dressed. The warm scent of his cologne and rumpled sheets beneath me make for a great morning. At least, they would under normal circumstances. But today is not normal in the least. The red in his eyes from lack of sleep attest to that. Like it or not—and I definitely do not—this could very well be my last day on Earth. Fuck. I don’t even know what to think about that. It’s an existential type of terror. From the time we’re old enough to understand death and dying, the idea of our life being over follows us around. It’s an ominous shadow with as big or as little a role to play as we allow. And right now, for me, it is a big enough stain to block out the sun.


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