La Vita Sexy Read online

  Delilah's Diary #2 - La Vita Sexy (Erotic Romance)

  (c) 2012 Jasinda Wilder

  ORLY Press www.orlypress.com

  This story you're ogling on your hot little digital device is 20,000 words, or 80 book pages long.

  WARNING: This story contains super-hot sex, M/F. For adults, 18+ only.

  June 12

  The air was sharp and cold, the night dark around me, the city silent. I dragged my suitcase behind me, the tiny wheels bumping on the cobblestones, tipping the suitcase every other step.

  I was running like a coward. Running from Luca, running from my feelings and my fears and from myself. But mainly from Luca. He was too much, too sexy, too amazing.

  I had no idea where I was going, or what my plan was, other than to just go.

  Run. Run. Run.

  Every step made my heart hurt, made me feel more and more like a coward, a silly girl. But I couldn't make myself turn around and go back to him. He was sleeping so peacefully, and if I came back in, he'd hear me and wake up and want to know where I had gone, and I didn't know how to explain what was happening in my head, my heart.

  A footstep echoed behind me, a shuffle and a scrape. Whispers in Italian, low male laughter. More than one voice. I tried to ignore them, quickened my pace along the street. I didn't even know the name of the street I was on, or if buses ran at this time of night, or morning, or whatever three a.m. was.

  The laughter and the footsteps were closer, and I desperately wanted to turn and look to see who was following me. I didn't. I kept walking. Kept walking. Ignored the laughter, ignored the steps only a few feet behind me now.

  Shit. This was stupid. I should have stayed. I could have told Luca I didn't want to go home with him. He would have understood. I could have gone to Firenze with him and stayed somewhere alone, and spent time with him, in a less frightening situation.

  "Hey, bella. Where you goin'?" A foot kicked my suitcase aside, and I had to stop to right it.

  Three young men, dark hair, scruffy not-quite-beards, acne, skinny jeans, and evil, leering grins. One of them kicked my suitcase again, this time knocking it from my grasp. I left it where it lay and stood my ground in front of them. The one who'd kicked my suitcase slipped away from his friends and squatted by my suitcase. He opened it, pulled clothes out of it, and tossed them to the ground. He plucked a thong and held it up, sniffed it.

  "You wearin' one of these?" He licked his lips as he dangled the thong from a finger. "I think you are. You show me, si?"

  He flicked a glance at his two friends and they moved apart, trying to flank me. I backed up, trying to keep all three in view. The one with my panties rose lithely to his feet and stalked toward me. His eyes roved over my body; I had slipped on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and the shorts were suddenly much shorter than I'd remembered.

  The three closed in around me, now darting to tighten the noose. I felt hands clutch my arms from behind, hard, cruel fingers holding me tight. Other hands plucked at my shirt, lifting it...

  Before I could scream, I heard a foot scrape, then a rustling of clothes, and then Luca was there, jerking the one holding my thong off his feet, bashing him in the face with a quick, merciless fist. I was released and I scrambled backward, thumping into a wall. Luca was a whirlwind, dodging fists and ducking, slamming his own return blows, all of this silent, only the sounds of fists meeting flesh and grunts.

  Then the hoodlums were running away, and Luca dragged a wrist across his bleeding nose. He turned to face me, his eyes a blaze of confusion, pain, and anger.

  "What in hell were you thinking?" He stomped toward me, fists balled, shoulders tensed, his gait aggressive.

  I cringed instinctively, and he immediately softened.

  "I am sorry, I am not angry at you, only...confused." He stopped within arm's reach of me, but didn't touch me. "Are you okay? Did they hurt you? Touch you?"

  I shook my head. "I'm okay. They didn't do anything. But...if you hadn't come when you did..."

  The reality of what had almost happened hit me then, and I trembled, swayed, and fell. Luca caught me and sank to the ground with me in his arms.

  "Why did you leave?" His voice was soft, his eyes betraying genuine worry and hurt.

  I'd hurt him by sneaking out. My gut clenched, and my heart was stabbed with a pang of guilt.

  "I...I don't know. I was afraid. I'm sorry, Luca. It wasn't you, or...not because--" I wasn't making sense. I took a breath and started over. "Everything just overwhelmed me, all of a sudden."

  Luca helped me stand up and gathered my clothes into my suitcase. He took my suitcase in one hand, carrying it rather than rolling it, and held out his other hand for me. He had blood smeared on his wrist and dripping from his nose. I took his hand. We walked in silence back to the hotel room.

  When we were back inside, I pushed Luca down into a chair and grabbed a towel from the bathroom to hold against his nose.

  "I'm sorry, Luca. I shouldn't have run." I kept my eyes on his as I spoke, forcing myself to face up to what I saw in them. "It was all so...intense, and scary. I don't...I didn't...god, I'm not making any sense. It wasn't you..."

  "You are saying the same things, but you are not saying why it is you did leave." Luca held my wrist as I dabbed at his nose. "You are afraid of feelings, I think. You see that I am feeling things for you, and this frightens you."

  I nodded. "I'm not ready to feel things. I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm doing, or who I am. I'm just...still figuring it all out."

  His nose had stopped bleeding, and he washed his hands and face in the bathroom sink. He flexed his fists, and I realized he'd split his knuckles open. I moved to dab at them as well, but he waved me off.

  "Is nothing, please, not to worry." He nudged me toward the bed and sat down on the edge next to me. "You are thinking too hard, worrying too much. You are on holiday; you must only have fun and relax. Do not worry about me, or what I do feel or don't feel. If you don't want to come with me to Firenze, then don't. If you don't want to stay in my parents' house, then don't. I will understand, any choice you are making."

  I yawned and stretched. Luca pushed me down and tugged my shoes off. "You must sleep. You have had a difficult day, and now a difficult night. Sleep, rest. I will be here when you wake up, and you will tell me what you wish to do. For now, no worries. You are safe."

  I was still wearing the tight shorts and the T-shirt, and I knew myself well enough to know I'd never sleep with them on. I glanced at Luca, then down at my shorts. It was ridiculous, since I'd already stripped for him, and done...god...such incredible things with him, but the idea of taking off my shorts in front of him brought all my fears and insecurities rushing back through me. This time, though, it was the innocent intimacy of getting ready to sleep that had my heart pounding. I'd never slept next to another man before. Never gotten ready for bed with another man before.

  New Delilah, new experiences. I repeated the phrase to myself. New me, new choices. No holding back.

  I took a deep breath and stood up, unbuttoned my shorts and pushed them off, acting as casual as I could despite my thundering heart and trembling knees. Luca was watching me, and I could feel the desire in his gaze, could feel it prickling my skin. He didn't move to touch me, and I was alternately grateful and disappointed.

  I pulled my arms out of the sleeves, unhooked my bra, and set it aside. As I slipped my arms back through, Luca chuckled.

  "I never get tired of watching that," he said. "Is always funny, for some reason. You girls can change clothes in the middle of a crowd without revealing a single inch of skin."

  I shrugged. "It's one of those things you just learn as a girl."

  I brushed my teeth and then went back to the bed. Luca was still sitting there
, watching me, waiting. Standing near the bed, I had to summon my courage once more. Oddly, climbing in bed to sleep was as nerve-wracking as stripping for him in preparation to have sex. I felt a rush of excitement at the memory of what we'd done together just a few hours before. What I wanted to do again. Right then.

  A tiny part of my brain told me I should still be upset over what had almost happened, but honestly, Luca coming to the rescue like he had only turned me on. He had appeared out of nowhere, a knight to my fair maiden. He'd bled for me. That sent a thrill of heat shuddering through me, settling between my thighs.

  I wanted him.

  An errant thought passed through my head: Was this a one-night stand? If I slept with him again, now, or tomorrow, and the next day, did that change it into something else? I wasn't sure if I liked the idea of a one-night stand. I had committed myself to trying new things, to moving past the long-ingrained religious mores and taboos I'd grown up with. But did that mean I had to abandon all of my principles? Where did I draw the line? I'd already slept with Luca and couldn't deny how earth-shattering it had been. I couldn't deny how badly I wanted to experience that with him, again and again.

  "You are thinking very hard, aren't you mia bella Delilah?" Luca stood up and wrapped his arms around my waist. "Tell me, if you will, what it is you are thinking about."

  I thunked my forehead against his chest, spoke muffled words into his shirt. "About you. What we did together, and how much I liked it. About how I...how I want to do it again." I looked up at him, forced my eyes to lock with his. "But I'm also wondering about what it means."

  He tilted his head to the side. "What it means? I do not understand this. What should it mean? Two adults can do this together without it having a deep meaning, can they not?"

  "Well, that's exactly what I'm wondering about. Yes, they can. And it happens all the time, just...just not to me. And I was raised...differently. I was raised to believe sex should only happen in the context of marriage. That sex outside marriage was a sin. When everything with my ex-husband happened, it threw into question everything I believed. I...resolved to start over. Do things I'd never considered doing before. Experience life, you know? And then I met you, and I wanted to do...what we did. And I want to again, but I keep...I don't know...fighting with myself over whether I think it's wrong or not. My upbringing tells me it is, and my body tells me it's not, and my mind and heart don't know what to think."

  Luca's brows furrowed as he absorbed what I'd said. "That is very complicated."

  I laughed, a bit mirthlessly. "Yeah, that's me. Complicated. Sorry."

  He chuckled. "No, I do not mean to say you are complicated, just all that you are thinking. I did not imagine it would be so deep a subject when I asked."

  "Oh, Luca. When you hooked up with me, you got a whole lot more than you'd probably imagined, on a lot of levels." I leaned into him, flattening my palms against his shoulders. I was worried he was about to leave, and wanted to get as much contact with him as I could before he was gone.

  "Are you wishing things were simpler with me?" I asked. "I know I'm complicated, and I'm sorry. I wish I could simplify things, but...I'm just a mess right now, I guess."

  Luca looked down at me in puzzlement. "You should not apologize for who you are. No, Delilah. I do not wish you were less complicated. You are who you are, and I knew you were not a simple person from the first moment we met. I like this about you. I am not afraid of the challenge of understanding you."

  That took a moment for me to work out in my head. "I'm a challenge to you?"

  Luca laughed and rolled his eyes at me. "Yes, you are. This is not meant to be an insult, so please, do not be so offended. You cannot apologize for not being simpler, and then be insulted when I say understanding you for your complexness is a challenge. It is illogical."

  I laughed and pushed him playfully. "Hasn't anyone ever told you women are illogical?"

  "Well, yes, but--"

  "Relax. I wasn't offended. If you're up to the challenge that is Delilah Flores, then that's your choice. I just want you to understand what you're getting into."

  "Oh, I know very well what I am getting into," Luca said, his voice husky.

  The teasing banter had shifted suddenly. Now the sparks of humor were turning into sparks of heat. I realized, in the back of my head, that we'd agreed, in a sideways kind of way, to an ongoing relationship of some kind. I pushed away the thought before I could freak myself out.

  I focused instead on the way Luca's hands were inching down from my back to the hem of my shirt, and the heat of his palms on my skin, and the dampness spreading between my thighs at his touch.

  "You are supposed to be sleeping," Luca said.

  "I'm not tired, suddenly," I said.

  He was stroking my back underneath my shirt, but in a soothing way rather than a sensual way. His eyes were full of desire, and I could feel his erection growing between us, but he was holding back. He didn't want to push me, I realized.

  I would have to show him what I wanted.

  I stepped back away from him and pulled my shirt off, then stripped my panties away. He licked his lips and reached for me. I pushed his hands down, an idea in my head that I intended to follow through with before I lost my nerve.

  I peeled his T-shirt over his head, pushed his jeans off, and then nudged him onto the bed. He lay down, his underwear tented by his burgeoning erection. I climbed onto the bed and leaned over him, planted a kiss on his chest, between his pectoral muscles, and then again on his belly. He tucked a pillow under his head and watched me with burning eyes. I met his gaze and slipped my fingers under the elastic of his underwear, pulling them down past his hips and off.

  I ran my palms over his body, across his broad chest and washboard stomach, down his thighs and back up, finally coming to rest on his cock. He twitched, and caught my hands.

  "Delilah--"

  "I want to. I want to touch you." I pulled my hands free and grasped his shaft in both hands. I lowered my mouth to him, kissed his hip. "I want to taste you."

  Luca lifted up on an elbow. "Delilah, you do not have to...please, just let me make love to you."

  I looked at him across the expanse of his body, wondering why he was hung up on this. Maybe he didn't believe that I wanted to. I slipped my fists up and down his length, caressed his sack in one hand, then extended a hesitant tongue and touched it to his cock, just beneath the head.

  He tasted like skin, and male musk, and faintly of me.

  "I want to. I've never done this before, and I want to. I wouldn't do it if I didn't."

  He laid back down, then, a smile curving his mouth.

  "Do you want me to?" I asked. "Do you like it?"

  He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. "Of course. Do not let any man tell you he doesn't like it. So yes, I do want it, but I also don't want you to think you have to, only because I did it to you."

  I shrugged, and licked him again, then said, "It's certainly not that. I really, really liked it when you did that, and I hope you'll do it again, but that's not why. I want to know how you taste. I want to...just because I do. Now shut up."

  He laughed again. "As you wish, mia bella."

  I licked the tip, swiping my tongue over the soft, salty head. His breath caught, and his belly sucked in. "Just...tell me if I'm doing it wrong, okay?"

  Luca laughed, tangling his fingers in my hair. "Only do not bite me, is all I ask. Anything else you could do will be right. There is no right way or wrong way."

  I took a deep breath, held it, and then lowered my mouth to him. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was filled with excitement, desire, and a little twinge of guilt at what I was about to do.

  I touched my lips to the head of his cock, kissing him, and then opened my jaw and took him into my mouth, just an inch or two at first. He was thick, hard but soft and springy at the same time. He was big enough that I had to stretch my jaw and my lips to take all of him. A bit more, then, deeper into my mouth. I wrapped my
fingers around his base, near the close-trimmed curls of hair, moving lightly, letting my fingers barely brush him.

  "Oh, mio dio," he gasped, arching his back.

  He liked it, then. I must have been doing something right. I took more of him into my mouth, and then he was at the back of my throat and I was struggling not to gag. I backed off a bit, moving my hand more vigorously now, and I felt him quivering, straining to hold still. I widened my throat muscles and went deeper again, and this time ignored the gag reflex.

  Luca gasped, cursing in Italian, tightening his fingers on my hair. He liked it deep, then. I didn't mind, now that I knew what to expect. I lifted my head so he was almost free of my lips, and then bobbed back down, slowly, still pumping at his base. He scrabbled at the bed with his heels, clutched the sheet with his fists, eyes closed, head tipped back. Every muscle in his body was tensed, and his spine was bowing upward, as if straining to go deeper. So I took him deeper, until I couldn't anymore, and then backed away, deeper, back away...

  He was groaning now, both hands in my short red hair, his hips moving of their own accord, fluttering up and down. I moved my mouth on him in the rhythm of his hips' rise and fall, moving down on him as he rose up. I didn't take him so deep I had to fight the gag reflex, but close.

  "Sto per..." he said, gasping. "I am...dio..."

  He was mixing English and Italian, not making complete sentences in either language. I loved the effect I was having on him. He was clearly lost in the throes of extreme pleasure, and even if I didn't find any physical pleasure in doing this to him, I found myself enjoying doing it to him, giving him such extreme pleasure.

  His fingers tightened in my hair until my scalp tingled, and then he gasped, saying something in Italian that I didn't quite catch. I felt his balls contract in my palm. He was coming, I realized. That's what he had been trying to say, warning me. I felt a burst of fear, wondering how it would taste, how it would feel, and what was I supposed to do with it, with his come? Did I spit it out? Swallow it?

  I didn't have time to think then. He jerked his hips and I took him deep, sucked until my cheeks hollowed, and when I did he grunted loudly, something like si, but I wasn't sure, and it didn't matter because I felt something thick, hot, and salty hit my tongue, and then another spasm and another shot of his come splashed against my throat and ran down. I swallowed, realizing I didn't have much choice, because he was still coming, another gush of tangy, thick heat in my mouth.