Delilah's Diary #2: La Vita Sexy (3 page)

"God yes, Luca," I breathed. "More. Harder."

"Harder?" Luca grinned and clutched my thighs against his chest. "This I can do...
mia bella
Delilah."

Harder he went, moving into me with primal rhythm, resting his cheek against my ankle, kissing my leg, thrusting hard and hard and hard, and now...oh, god...

I was splintered by lightning in my belly, broken apart by a flood of release. I came again, a coiling detonation flinging me into the furthest fires of passion. And still he moved, lost within me now, delving deep and drawing nearly out, eyes closed, mouth curled in feral grin, midnight locks of hair drifting across his brow, olive skin sheened with sweat.

He grunted, a low growl in the bottom of his throat, adjusted his grip on my legs and thrust harder, faster, deeper. I was drowning in climax, rolling, rollicking, frenzied and wild, shrieking as he plunged into me.

This was better than the last one, which had been better than the one before...if this continued, I couldn't fathom what they would feel like in a day, a week.

He came, then, and oh, my god, he came hard. He crashed into me, hot wet seed flooding through me, spurting against my walls with every thrust, his face thrown back to the ceiling and locked in a rictus of pleasure as he plunged into me. Our bodies clashed together, came together. At length, Luca went still, pulled out and collapsed next to me, cradling my head on his chest and curling an arm around me.

I slept, then held close, feeling safe and protected.

When I woke, the sun was shining high through the window and Luca was in the shower. I slid up in bed, feeling sore in a pleasant way, sated and yet hungry. My netbook was in my bag next to the bed, and I opened it to write this entry. Luca emerged from the shower about a thousand words ago, kissed me, caressed me, distracted me, and then left to bring back breakfast and let me write. I'm done now, I think, and ready for a shower.

The question is answered, in my mind.

I'm going to Firenze with Luca. I don't know if I'll stay at his parents' house or not, but I'll decide that when we get there.

Luca drove a pretty little red Citroën DS4. I showed a hint of interest in how pretty the little car was, and like men the world over, Luca was off and running, a flood of half-English, half-Italian exuberance over its performance specs and features and whatnot. What I took away from his impromptu lecture was, primarily, its name, that it was fast, and it was pretty. Most little cars like that get called "cute," but somehow Luca's car didn't seem cute to me. It was pretty, like a sports car almost.

We left Rome around eleven in the morning after a leisurely breakfast in the hotel room.

"How long will it take to get to Florence?" I asked.

"Oh, it is a sort of long drive," Luca said. "Perhaps three hours? If we go direct and without stopping, possible less. But I think maybe we will stop some of the way there and have a lunch."

I laughed. "You call three hours a long drive?"

Luca smiled at me. "It is kind of long. Remember, I drive all over Italia selling the wines, so I am in the car all the time. For me, it is not so long. For someone who only lives in one city and does not often leave, yes, it would be trip for a whole day."

"Three hours is nothing," I said. "My ex-husband's family lives in Montana, and we drive—used to drive, I mean...from Illinois to Missoula for the holidays. Now,  
that's
a long drive."

"These places, they are a long way apart?" Luca asked.

"It's a full twenty-four hours of driving. We live—lived, I mean—near Peoria, which is central Illinois, and his folks lived in Missoula, which is near the far western border of Montana. It's, like...fifteen hundred miles? A little more?"

"And how often did you do this holiday?"

"Oh, at least once a year. We'd drive up for Thanksgiving and they'd come down for Christmas. Sometimes we'd switch."

Luca glanced at me, one hand resting on the gear shifter. "Do you miss him? Tell me truly."

I stared out the window and the lush scenery passing by, thinking. "I've tried not to think about it. I guess I do, in a way. I mean, I was with him for thirteen years, from high school to just a few days ago. That's like...half my life, with one man. He was wrapped in everything I did, everything I was." I bit my lip, trying to keep the emotions back. "It's been hard sorting him out of my thoughts, out of my decisions. I've been just not thinking about him, since I'm so angry at him. But...really, if I look deep, and hard, I realize I was unhappy. I just didn't understand it, or see it, until after everything happened."

Luca reached for my hand. "You can talk about it, Delilah. I will not be hurt, or upset. You need to talk about your feelings." I must have smirked at the idea of a man telling me to talk about my feelings, because he laughed and squeezed my hand. "Do not laugh at me. I am not saying I am so good at this for myself, but I know it is needed to be healthy. You have had your life upended. I am your friend, first and most importantly."

This made my eyes burn and sting. I blinked furiously and squeezed his hand. When I could breathe again, I said, "Thank you, Luca. That means a lot to me. I don't know what to say, though. I just have to keep moving, one day at a time. I've been pretending, even to myself, that I don't care, that I'm too angry to care. But now that it's been a few days...I'm hurt. I gave half my life to the bastard. He was my first and only sexual partner, until I met you. It never even crossed my mind that he might be cheating on me."

Luca nodded, his eyes hard. "To be cheated on is difficult. I know this, too, from my own experiences."

"It just keeps making me wonder what's wrong with me, that I wasn't enough for him."

Luca glanced at me, lifted my knuckles to his lips. "No,
mia bella
. You must not think this. I, too, wondered the same thing when Lia told me she had been sleeping with someone else. 'Why am I not good enough?' I asked myself, over again and over again. But in time I came to know that it was not me, not my fault. I loved her, and did all that I could for her. But what you must know within your heart and mind is that for some people, there is nothing that will ever be enough."

I shrugged. "It's just...the woman I caught him with...she was older than me, and, objectively speaking, not very attractive. But she was—she was skinny."

"Delilah, you cannot think—"

"I'm not hung up on that, really. At least, not much. It's hard not to be, at least a little bit. I'm not skinny, never have been, never will be, and I'm fine with that. I like who I am and what I look like. But, when you catch your husband in bed with a skinny old hag with floppy titties, it's hard not to think he picked her over you because you're not skinny."

"He picked her over you because he is an idiot," Luca said. "They say that some men only think with their dicks, but I think these kind of men, the ones who leave or cheat on amazing, beautiful women, they do not think at all. They only do what they think in the very moment they think it. It is thinking with instinct, but another word."

"Impulsive," I suggested. "I guess that fits Harry pretty well. He was kind of impulsive about things."

Luca pulled the car to a stop in little town off the main highway, where we ate some delicious food and shared a bottle of wine. It seemed odd to be drinking wine at noon, but it seemed perfectly normal to Luca, so I went along with it. I don't think Luca even felt anything from the glass and a half he drank, but I was filled with a warm buzz in my blood, a deep happiness settling over my shoulders like a blanket. The sun was shining, the sky clear blue, the air cool in the shade of the building.

"Would you care to take a walk with me?" Luca asked.

"Sure," I said.

Luca paid the bill and we set out, hand in hand. Luca had a blanket it in the back seat of his car, "for emergencies," he said, in case he ever had to sleep in the car. He folded it into a compact square and carried it under his arm. Beyond the little village where we'd eaten the land was lush, rolling hills and fields dotted with bursts of trees, scattered villages, and farms and vineyards. Luca led me away from the roads and the villages up into the forested hills, a gentle but strenuous hike away from civilization. Birds called, flapped, and trilled, and the wind soughed around us, clattering the leaves and cooling the sweat on my face.

After maybe half an hour of hiking, Luca stopped us on the crest of a hill beneath a tree with wide, leafy, overhanging branches, providing shade from the hot Italian sun. We lay down side by side on our backs, watching the clouds drift between the leaves.

Luca rolled to his side and rested a hand on my stomach. He didn't do anything further, but the look in his eyes told me enough. We were far from anyone, and I was feeling daring. I met his eyes and unzipped my shorts, shimmied them down, sat up, unhooked my bra, and stripped my shirt off. Being naked outside was a rush, another new experience.

Luca's fingers skimmed down my belly, across my thighs, brushed past my labia and then drifted upward. He didn't touch me sexually yet, running his hands over my skin, exploring every inch of my body. He stroked my arms, my hands, and my sides, cupped the curve of my breasts and my hips, glided his fingers over my thighs and calves and feet. Once he'd mapped my body with his hands, he did it all over again, but now with his lips.

I lay still and let him do as he wished, but with every touch of his hands, every hot, moist kiss of his lips, I felt my heart beating harder. This wasn't sex, somehow. What he was doing was more, was...intimate. Loving.

I felt the pounding in my heart take on the rhythm of fear: run, run, run. I didn't want him to love me. If he loved me, it would mean I'd have to love him back, and that was terrifying. I'd loved a man for half my life and been burned. I thought I knew him, thought I trusted him, thought he cared. It turned out I was wrong. I'd known Luca for barely forty-eight hours, and the idea that he could care enough to kiss and touch me so delicately, with such reverence...it sent shudders of fear rippling through my body next to the pleasure of his touch.

I didn't know what to do with it, what to say, what to feel. On the one hand, I was desperate to be touched, to be loved. The realization that Harry had been cheating on me probably for our entire relationship made every moment we'd spent together meaningless, empty, and worthless. He'd never loved me. So now, with Luca branding my flesh with his tender touch, I found I needed more, wanted more, even though it scared me.

Which was really confusing.

I didn't know whether to be afraid of the worship in Luca's eyes, or to melt into him because of it.

I was ruminating on this as he plied my body with fingers and mouth, and so wasn't prepared for his tongue to lap against my clit. I gasped in surprise, flinched, and then relaxed into his attentions. By now I knew his technique and was ready for it, prepared to feel the fireworks. And feel them I did. Oh, my, what ecstasy I found at the end of his tongue, the swirl of his fingers against my G-spot. I felt his mouth retreat as I began to near climax. I mewled, thrust my hips in an attempt to get his tongue back to my folds. I lifted up to see what he was doing, saw him spit into his fingers, smirk at me, and then lower his hands to my folds. I was already wet, already slick with his spit and my own juices, so I wrinkled my brow in confusion. Before I could ask what he was doing, however, I felt the answer. He pushed my thighs apart, spread the globes of my ass apart with one hand and then slipped his spit-slick fingers against the knot of muscle deep inside, the one place on my body I'd never,
ever
been touched. I gasped, tried to pull away, squeezed my legs together.

"Please, just relax. You will enjoy it, I promise you." Luca looked at me across the expanse of my body. "But if you don't want me to, I won't."

I was still tensed, watching him, considering. It went against everything, every unwritten rule in my life. But he hadn't done anything I didn't like yet, and I knew he wouldn't do anything to hurt me. I barely knew him, but I trusted him. Which also worried me. I'd known Harry forever, and I’d thought I could trust him.

But Luca wasn't Harry.

I relaxed my legs, closed my eyes, and waited.

He massaged in slow, gentle circles at first, and his tongue found my clit again, and his other fingers delved inside my pussy to stroke my walls. Sensations overloaded me, wired through me. He continued to massage in circles, and I felt his finger slip in past the ring of muscle. It wasn't unpleasant. Then, as his fingers and tongue worked their magic on my pussy, I began to feel the fiery pressure of climax rising and building, but...twice as potent as ever before. And it was just beginning.

Moans escaped past my lips, and my hips writhed. Luca's finger pushed deeper and then deeper yet, and now I was whimpering nonstop, explosions rocking through me, my lower half shuddering, and his finger was slipping out ever so slightly and pushing back in.

Then the climax washed over me in full, and my world shattered. I screamed. Lights burst behind my eyes, my body buzzed and tingled and shook, and still I came. When I thought I couldn't come any harder, I felt Luca slide his body up mine, still clothed. I ripped at his pants, his shirt, got him naked in record time. Still trembling with the rippling currents of orgasm, I felt Luca drive into me, thick and stretching me. I wrapped my body around him, clutched him close and rocked my hips into his, driving him deeper.

I lost track of time then. We might have been writhing together for minutes or hours; I'll never know. It was one long orgasm for me, an endless climax rising higher and higher until I couldn't withstand it any longer, until I could only hold tight to Luca and ride the ever-cresting wave of ecstasy, drowning, gasping.

When Luca finally slowed his thrusting and began to plunge into me with slow, primal force, I was nearly limp and still climaxing, slipping down the far slope of orgasm. And then he came, shuddering, growling, and cursing in gasps. When I felt him come, my body clenched around him one last time.