S*** Luck.: Amore Mio

By Anaïs Wilde

Rose has an almost magical ability to make her wishes come true or so it seems. At fifteen years of age she wrote a wish list:

1. Meet Rodolfo Vitti in person
2. Go to Rome
3. Go to Paris
4. Go to Venice. Ride a gondola with my love

It seemed a little less than impossible for a simple Alabama girl who couldn't even finish her studies. But her number one wish has been granted, Rose is married to Rodolfo Vitti. Will her other wishes come true? She is starting to fear that they will as she is slowly learning that dreams can become nightmares.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ediciones Fortuna
• Release date: Jun 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781071551189

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

It was like a dream come true. The encounter with Rodolfo, the amazing love we had made was, almost exactly, as I had been dreaming of it for years. He had been just as passionate as I had always imagined, nothing like the cold, indifferent man that he sometimes was in our day to day life or the abruptness with which he had treated me the few times in which we had been intimate previously.

Now, as I watch the night slip through the window, I was smiling giddily and trying to silence my thoughts. It is as if the mere noise of my ideas could spoil the wonderful moment I had just spent with Rodolfo Vitti, my husband, my love, the light of my life. And, in fact, the more I remember it the more I realize what Rodolfo has meant to me over the years. He was not just the typical heartthrob that every teenager has lusted over at any given time, but much, much more. It was he, the idea of ​​his person, who was with me during my darkest moments, those in which life was difficult for me, when my parents were always fighting at home, the economic hardships. It was his eyes, on any of the thousands of photos and posters that I had scattered all over my room, that I focused when I woke up. I imagined him saying good morning to me, starting my day with a sweet kiss, encouraging me to get out of bed and fight the world. It was Rodolfo who I told about my first disappointments, my difficulties in finding love. It´s true that none of the men who have touched my life knew how to love me not even a thousandth of what I would have expected. I suppose that basically none of them were Rodolfo, I had always been waiting for him, unlikely as it seemed.

The touch of my husband's hand brings me out of my thoughts.  I feel him gently running his fingertips down my back, slowly lowering towards the base, where he draws circles very close to my butt. I bristle again, even though it seems impossible that my body still wants more after all we've done. We have spent the entire day in bed. Zulema brought us food, or rather brought it to him. From how much she blushed and the way she stuttered when she saw we were naked in bed, I realized that she didn't expect to see me here in this room. Well, that will have to change, I tell myself, I will have to make it very clear that I am Rodolfo Vitti's wife and that, therefore, the most normal thing in the world is for me to be by his side, with or without clothes ... Mmm, better without clothes.

A soft moan escapes from my throat as Rodolfo's fingers walk mischievously over the curve of my buttocks. They go down and make their way between my legs where I am burning with desire for him. I try to turn around, I want to kiss him, I want to see his infinite eyes, but his other hand stops me with a soft but firm touch on my shoulder. I give in, I give up, I'm his completely. My chest rises and falls to the rhythm of my accelerated breathing, to the rhythm that Rodolfo's fingers mark exploring my sex.

But we have already ... I am unable to continue speaking because the moans take over me.

And who wants to count the times we have done it? Do you care? Rodolfo whispers to me with that seductive tone of voice for which millions of women would die all over the planet.

Mmmm... I try to say no, that it doesn't matter, that I'm not going to keep count.

His fingers come out, wet, towards my breasts, while I already feel Rodolfo inside me.

Give me a son, he says into my ear.

I don't know, it was like ... Like when you hear music in the movies and suddenly the screech of the turntable needle scratching the vinyl. The magic was broken suddenly, as much as Rodolfo continued to pleasure me with all his skill, with that softness that I had not known from him before but that he had showered me with all that day. Why did those words bother me so much? I have no idea, but I couldn't help it. Perhaps it was that, on the few times that Rodolfo and I had had sex, he always brought up having children. It is not that I do not want them, but why was he so obsessed?

We continue with our games, but I move mechanically now, I dare say that I even moan without my heart really being in it. My mind is playing tricks on me, it is taking me on a spiral of analysis that I hate but cannot get out of. I feel Rodolfo's teeth biting my earlobe, his breathing fast, his moans. I feel how his movements get faster and faster, I know that he is about to end and I have not even managed to get close, I am empty, as if I gave him my body while my mind and soul have gone on vacation.

"Ti piace? He asked. Is it good for you?"

I cry out in pleasure, even though I'm pretending, for some reason I don't want him to focus on me. What difference does it make if on this occasion I don´t have an orgasm, with the other six or seven that I have had that day I have already had enough.

What did I have to lose? But am I listening to myself? Well, you understand me, not listening in the literal sense of the word, luckily! Yes, fortunately I have not said this out loud, as I´m prone to messing up like that. I mean rather am I listening to my own thoughts and yes, I hear them loud and clear. I emit a scream that I choke with my own hand. Rodolfo takes it as an expression of my sexual ecstasy, but I know that it is an expression of utter disbelief. I still can't believe I have all of him, of my adored Rodolfo Vitti.

"Ti amo," he says behind my back.

I freeze, more than anything because I don't know if I feel the same.

Rodolfo gets up and walks to the bathroom, then I hear the shower and I turn to sit with my back against the padded headboard of the bed. I would like to be in my own bathroom, for Zulema to prepare the bathtub with freshly cut rose petals, to choose the oil with which she then massages me. I get up and wince when I see Rodolfo come out of the bathroom. I didn't expect him to shower so fast.

Where are you going?

To my room? I don't know why it comes out in a questioning tone.

Ah, well, that's fine with me, he says, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Then Rodolfo, in a gesture of cordiality, bends down to pick up the silk robe that I was wearing when I entered his so room many hours ago. When he picks it up to throw it at me, something falls to the ground.

The magazine ... The damn magazine. I had completely forgotten that I was carrying it, that it was this that had made me search for this hidden room.

Rodolfo picks it up and his face changes. His brow furrows, it is as if his eyes meet. A silence of the most uncomfortable now sits between the two of us. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he holds the rolled-up magazine up in front of me, wordlessly asking me what it means. I know that at this point it is useless to say that it is nothing, not even making up a lie would do.

"I found it in the garden, under a lounger," I say.

You know Arabic? He asks me and the suspicion in his voice does not go unnoticed.

Not a single word. But I was surprised to see your photo.

I have walked towards him. I try to control the trembling in my hand as I point to the page in question.

Oh yes, Richard Claine, he says as if he hates the guy. He´s a pain. But what are we going to do, my brother is even more of a pain.

Mario? I ask surprised.

Yes. He has accepted an underwear campaign for me with that blond he says smacking the back of the magazine with his fingers.

You don't do advertising campaigns, right?

Rodolfo looks at me and forces a smile.

No. But Mario does not understand. Now there is a signed contract and I will have no choice but to appear in briefs in this piece of rubbish.

He seems so upset that I feel bad that I doubted him. I understand that Zulema would not have wanted to translate what the magazine said. It will have been because of her culture; she would be embarrassed to explain to me that my husband is going to appear in his underwear in a tonne of publications. I rest my hand on one of Rodolfo's cheeks and caress him gently.

It can’t be that bad. Your fans will love it.

Do you really think so?

See you in tight underpants? You're kidding? My eyes go down to the towel around his waist, rising to those pecs and those scandalous abs. I bite my lip, the moment had passed where I had had enough of him. They're going to drool. I'd be drooling myself if I couldn't have you in front of me, I'd cut out the picture and put it in my room.

But you have me...

Rodolfo has dropped the magazine, which is forgotten on the floor. His strong arm wraps around my waist, making me fully aware that I am totally naked, my robe is still on the floor.