Page 42 of Brazilian Revenge

He finished gliding her panties off her, and every inch he blew over prickled with want. She lifted her hips from the mattress, desperate for some release. He glanced at her pussy, licking his lips. When he lifted his eyes to hers, her stomach clenched. A wonderful, warm sensation rippled through her.

“You’re not playing fair,” he said.

Whatever works.She outlined her sex with her fingers, and shot him a look loaded with challenge. “You’ve accused me of it since the beginning. Why stop now?”

She moaned and circled her clit. She wanted to show him she could give herself pleasure, too, although with him it would be way better. She didn’t need him. She wanted him—so bad, that it almost made her believe he was, in fact, a necessity.

A smile that could bring warring countries to a treaty greeted her. “Touché. I think I can take it from here.”

She smiled, and before she could respond, he buried his face between her thighs. Her body drooped, and she let her hips fall into the bed, and he linked her legs across his head. She threw her head against the pillow, sure she wouldn’t be able to take much of this. His tongue lapped at her folds, while his thumb flicked her clit mercilessly. What else was there for her to do besides melt into him?

Literally. She could feel his tongue licking her arousal, and damn was he good at it.

“God, Leonardo. I’m coming,” she said as her thighs trembled, warning of what was to come.

He withdrew from her sex and with a swift movement plunged his cock inside her. The sensation seared every single one of her nerve endings, her toes curling.

She exploded into a whirlwind of sensations. He thrust into her, in and out, each time plundering deeper into her, until she felt that desire reenergize and she orgasmed again. With a growl that sliced into the night, he released himself.

…

Leonardo glanced down at his daughter.

She stared back at him even though her eyelids fluttered often.

When he’d heard her cry through the baby monitor, he’d had no doubt. He left Satyanna sleeping at his bedside, and went to check on his daughter. It took him a few seconds to gather her diaper, the wipes, and to find the cream, but it all came back to him. He’d helped his mother raise his little sister, Camila, who wasn’t so little anymore.

Back then, disposable diapers were a luxury; they’d used cloth ones. She finished the bottle, and he tapped her back. That, he remembered, too. His heart heaved. That was the first time he was alone with his Lyanna. An emotion that was scary, uplifting, and exhilarating swept over him. He recognized the same kind of love his mother showered him with, despite him hating to have his cheeks pinched past the age of four.

A ball of warmth clogged his throat. That was his daughter, and he’d do anything for her. But could he compromise his beliefs? Could he marry Satyanna to give his daughter a stable home? How do you know it’ll be stable? Would Satyanna get bored of playing house in a country that wasn’t her own and leave him? Worse—leave their daughter when she was old enough to understand?

Lyanna burped, and he rocked her in the chair, back and forth. There was something reassuring about her. He knew he wouldn’t leave her no matter what. Lupus had claimed his mother when she had been too poor and fragile to fight back. His brother Bruno had left the entire family to start a new life in the United States. A year ago his father had finally given his last breath and joined his wife in death.

The baby yawned, and, kissing the top of her head gently, he put her in the crib and covered her with a blanket so she would be comfortable.

When he arrived in the bedroom next door, he found Satyanna sitting on the bed, with the baby monitor on her hand. Had she seen him caring for Lyanna?

“I didn’t hear her.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m the dad, right?”

She wiped a tear from her eye, and he realized she’d been crying.

“Don’t tell me you turned into those overbearing new mothers and you’re upset because I went and you didn’t?” he said, injecting some humor in his voice to dispel from the strange intimacy lurking like a third person in the room.

She chuckled, and then wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “No. I just…made a decision.”

He angled forward. Something told him this conversation wouldn’t lead to sex. “Yes?”

“I’ll stay,” she blurted. “I’ll stay in Brazil if you want so you can be closer to Lyanna. You don’t have to worry, I’m not going to get any crazy ideas about us,” she said, glancing at the floor. “But I want her to grow up near her father.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, the same side as her but within a safe distance. His shoulders dropped a notch. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“Between my parents abandoning me far too soon, then Carol dying, and a life in foster care, then finally the youth house…I never had a father, and it’s not fair for her to not have one when you’re so eager.”

“I am. I promise you she will be happy.”

And you, too.That hung at the tip of his tongue, so why was it so hard for him to say it? Because he wanted to mean it. He couldn’t…not yet. There was also Clemonte and his empty threat to worry about…but he couldn’t spoil the moment and talk about it now, not when she’d just given him a slice of hope.

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