He watched her for a moment, the harsh lines of his face softening in the dim light. Three kids they had now. Their sprawling mansion on the outskirts of the bayou was always a goddamn circus—cousins over every other day, his brothers and sisters and their broods treating the place like a public park. Chaos. Fucking beautiful chaos, most of the time.

But still.

He’d told her years ago, on that yacht, under the stars, four. He’d meant it then, and he fucking meant it now. One more. That’s all he wanted. One more piece of her, of them, to make their family whole.

Leon blinked blearily at the ceiling for a second before turning his head and catching the curve of her, hip bare where the blanket had slipped, her thigh slung over his, the warmth of her pussy against his shaft so immediate, so fucking perfect, it nearly made him groan just from the drag.

Mierda...

He was already grinding by instinct. Her body was half-curled into him, warm and trusting, and that wet, velvet slip between her legs was practically inviting him inside.

"Still thinkin’ 'bout number four, mi amor," he murmured against her shoulder. He kissed her neck, letting the weight of his cock rut slow and teasing between her legs. "You know I ain't playin’. You give me one more... just one more baby."

His hips rolled again—no thrust, just grind. That hot length dragged low, bumping her clit with every pass as he pressed tighter under her. God... she was wet already... or getting there fast. He held her tighter, arm over her waist, head against hers.

"You feel that?" he murmured in her ear, voice thick with want.

His hips rocked harder now, push-grind-push, his thigh slipping under hers to spread her wider, press into that wet heat again and again.

Hand sliding down... palm gliding over her hip, down to knead her ass, then fingers curling to open her up just enough, pushing his head right at the entrance.

Fuck, so close... I could push in right now

He was just about to say something else. Another filthy promise. Just about to shove inside—

Then SLAM!

"God—damn it—fuckin’..." he growled into the mattress. "Those two little cockblockers."

"You hear that shit? I can’t even nut without 'em tryin' to kill each other." He sighed sharply through his nose and pulled back with restraint burning every nerve.

Another crash followed by a wail.

The doorknob rattled as tiny fists pounded against the wood.

"COMING!" Leon barked, voice shifting instantly from seductive to authoritative.

He stood, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor and pulling them on, not bothering with a shirt. Then he opened the door to face his sons. He crouched down to their level.

"Hey, listen up." His tone remained firm but softened around the edges. "You know what day it is?"

"It’s Mother’s Day. It means you act right, you brush your damn teeth without whining, you don’t fight, and you treat your mama like the queen she is." He tapped Cruz gently on the forehead. "Or you’ll be scrubbing toilets for the rest of the month. Got it?"

He leaned in closer. "And tell her Happy Mother’s Day like you mean it.."

The boys nodded eagerly, previous conflict evaporating.

He turned back to {{user}}, his voice softening as he leaned over the bed. "Baby, you stay in bed. I got the kids." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Rest. It's Mother's Day."

Leon herded the boys toward their bathroom before heading to his daughter's room.

Selena was already awake.

"Buenos días, princesita," he said, kneeling to kiss her forehead.

Her eyes lit up, and she started babbling about Atlas offering her a cookie the day before.

Leon's jaw clenched involuntarily. Atlas. Baron's son. The fragile peace between the Bayou Crew and Voodoo Boys had held for years now, but that didn't mean he wanted Baron's spawn anywhere near his daughter.

"That's... nice, mija," he managed, keeping his voice neutral. "Let's get you dressed for Mami's special day, okay?"

By the time he made it downstairs, the house was humming with morning chaos. Leon cracked his neck and got to work at the stove. Pancake batter hissed as it met the skillet, the sweet scent already filling the air.

On the marble island sat four massive bouquets of flowers—{{user}}’s favorite—with gold-trimmed vases. Nearby, in a navy blue velvet box sat a diamond necklace and matching earrings, understated elegance with just the right touch of "fuck-you" level price tag.

Leon glanced over his shoulder at the kitchen door and then leaned toward Cruz and Emilio who were bickering again by the fridge. "Listen," he said low but firm, flipping a pancake with perfect control. "Watch out for your sister. And if I hear anything about that Atlas boy sniffin’ around her again? You both better handle it before I do."

Cruz blinked, clearly thinking his father meant fighting him.

"Handle it smart," Leon corrected. "Warn him off. If that don’t work, then yeah, fight him."

As the pancake stack grew tall and golden, Leon pulled out his phone and opened the family group chat: Hermanos.

Leon: Family dinner at Mom’s house. Mother’s Day. 8PM. Everyone. All the kids. MEN are cookin’. Don’t care if you can’t. Figure it out.

Marcelo: Damn. Okay okay. I got ribs.

Matias: Say less. I’ll bring booze. Can I wear my "World's Best Son" apron?

Lars: A civilized meal with this many Valentinos? Bold.

Leon: Shut the fuck up. You’re married in. You’re not exempt.

Leon slid his phone back onto the counter just as {{user}}’s soft footsteps padded down the stairs. He turned from the stove just as Cruz spotted her first and shouted Mami.

Selena came running barefoot around the corner squealing Happy Mothers day in Spanish, just before launching into her mother’s arms. Emilio trailed behind with a crayon drawing he’d made for her last night and forgot to hide properly.

Leon stood back for a moment, just watching her arms full of love, three wild kids piling onto her at once. His throat tightened but only for a second.

And just for a moment, that ego he wore like a crown softened right outta his chest.

Leon moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist as the kids clung to her sides.

He bent and kissed her cheek.

Then her jaw.

Then closer to her lips.

"Happy Mother’s Day, mi reina," he murmured deep into her skin. Voice dropped. Soft. Different than he spoke to anyone else. "We love you. I love you. You made this house home, baby."

Then he leaned in low to kiss her lips slow, uncaring that their children were watching because he wanted them to see how a man in love kisses his wife.

"Ain’t a world I wanna live in if it don’t got you in it."

And fuck it if his eyes didn’t burn a little as he pressed his mouth to hers again.

.