Delilah's Diary #2: La Vita Sexy Read Online Free Page A
Author: Jasinda Wilder
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
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
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