Tell Me What You Want—Or Leave Me Read online

  ALSO BY MEGAN MAXWELL

  Tell Me What You Want

  Now and Forever

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2014 by Megan Maxwell

  Translation copyright © 2020 by Achy Obejas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Previously published as Pídeme lo que quieras o déjame by Planeta in Spain in 2014. Translated from Spanish by Achy Obejas. First published in English by Amazon Crossing in 2020.

  Published by Amazon Crossing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Amazon Crossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542043113

  ISBN-10: 1542043115

  Cover design by PEPE nymi, Milano

  With love to all my crazy and wonderful

  Maxwell Warriors.

  As you say, there’s no two without a third!

  I hope you’ll fall in love with Eric and Jude again.

  A thousand kisses,

  Megan

  CONTENTS

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR

  1

  Riviera Maya Hotel, Mezzanine

  White sand beaches . . .

  A dazzling sun . . .

  Delicious cocktails . . .

  And Eric Zimmerman.

  I’m insatiable!

  That’s the word that most accurately describes the hunger I feel for him—for my awesome, handsome, sexy, and kinky husband. I still can’t believe it. I’m married to Eric! My Iceman!

  We’re in Tulum, Mexico, savoring our honeymoon, which I would like to go on forever.

  Settled into a hammock, I’m sunbathing topless. I love feeling the sun’s rays on my skin as my Iceman talks on the phone just a few yards from me. I can tell by his furrowed brow that he’s focused on business.

  Eric is tanned and virile in his blue bathing suit. I watch him carefully . . . and the more I watch, the more I like him and the more excited I get.

  I notice that a handful of women sitting at a lovely bar nearby are also watching him. I totally get why. I consider calling out to them, “Hey, hyenas, he’s all mine!”

  But I know it’s completely unnecessary. Eric is mine, all mine, without any need for me to shout it out to the four corners of the earth.

  Three days after our wedding in Munich, my husband surprised me with this stupendous and romantic honeymoon. So here I am, on this exotic beach on the Mexican Caribbean coast, delighting in these excellent vistas and longing to go back to the intimacy of our room.

  I’m also thirsty. I get up from the hammock, pluck out my earbuds, put on my yellow bikini top, and head for the beach bar.

  Suddenly, I hear Alejandro Sanz’s voice, and I sing along as I walk.

  The soft breeze plays with my hair, and I keep singing along until I reach the bar.

  I ask the bartender for a giant Coke with extra ice, and when I take a sip, a pair of hands encircle my waist.

  “Hey, sweetheart.”

  His voice . . .

  His nearness . . .

  His way of calling me sweetheart . . .

  Mmm . . . he drives me crazy and, smiling broadly, happier than a clam at high tide, I lean back, and he kisses me on the forehead.

  “Do you want some Coke?”

  He nods and settles on the stool next to me, grabs the glass I offer, and takes a long swallow.

  “Thanks. I was so thirsty.” After running his blue eyes over my chest, he gives me a teasing smile. “Why did you put your top back on? You’re denying me a marvelous view.”

  “I’m just not really comfortable being topless here at the bar.”

  I can feel his heat. The music suddenly changes, and a romantic ranchera plays. Hooray for rancheras!

  What a playlist. So much feeling. Eric, who has turned into the most romantic person I’ve ever met in my life, looks at me slyly and takes me by the waist again.

  “Will you dance with me, sweetheart?”

  I love it when he gives in to his impulses and just thinks about him and me.

  It’s so crazy.

  I’m so head over heels in love.

  The song Dexter dedicated to us at our wedding comes on. Eric comes down off the stool, and right there, in the middle of the bar at the beach, not caring about the tourists, completely besotted, we dance before an audience of jealous women as Luis Miguel sings.

  Oh God . . . what a moment!

  This is what I want, for everyone to let Eric and me be happy—actually, for us to let ourselves be happy. Because if we’ve learned anything, it’s that we’re fire and water, and although we love each other madly, we’re always charged, ready to go off.

  We haven’t fought since the wedding though. We’re both on a cloud and just kiss, whisper sweet nothings, and devote ourselves to each other.

  Hooray for the honeymoon!

  The song keeps playing, and we keep dancing. We enjoy the moment. We forget about the world and gaze at each other adoringly.

  His blue eyes cut right through me, and he tells me how much he loves me and wants me, and when the song is over, my husband, my lover, my crazy love, kisses me. Settling me back on the stool, he whispers just a few inches from my mouth.

  “Like the song says, I’m going to love you my whole life.”

  Mother of God . . . he’s so beautiful. I just want to eat him up bit by bit!

  Five minutes later, after we’ve exhausted ourselves with sweet caresses and cuddles, and under the indiscreet eyes of the women watching us at the bar, I ask, “Was that Dexter you were talking to on the phone?”

  “No, Dexter’s business partner. He wants us to meet tomorrow at his office to take care of a few things.”

  “Where’s his office?”

  “About thirty minutes from here. At Carmen Beach. So, tomorrow morning we’ll—”

  “We?” I cut him off. “No, no . . . you mean you. I’d rather stay here.”

  Eric raises an eyebrow.

  “Alone?” he asks.

  The look on his face amuses me.

  “Eric, I won’t be alone. The hotel is full of people and so are the beaches.”

  He furrows his brow. The return of the Iceman!

  “You’ll be by yourself, Jude, and that doesn’t please me.”

  I laugh aloud.

  “My love—”

  “No, Jude, you’ll come with me. I’ve seen too many predators hunting for pretty women, and I’m not going to let them have mine,” he says, quite seriously.

  That makes me laugh even more. Obviously, he isn’t amused. I love hi
s jealous side, and, getting up from the barstool, I put my arms around his neck.

  “I’m not interested in a single predator except you! So, chill because I know how to take care of myself. In any case, if I know you, you’ll be up at the crack of dawn, right?” My sweet thing nods and circles my waist with his arms yet again. “I don’t want to get up early. I want to sleep and sunbathe until you get back. What’s the problem?” I ask.

  “Jude . . .”

  I kiss him. I love kissing him.

  “Let’s go back to our room,” I say guiltlessly.

  “We’re talking about—”

  “It’s just that when I see you so serious,” I say, cutting him off again, “I want you so much.”

  Eric grins. “Good!”

  He pulls me toward him and kisses me . . . and that kiss is filled with adoration, which leaves the women at the bar gobsmacked.

  Then he takes me in his arms and walks us back in the direction of our room.

  By the time we get to our door, my personal predator is in a hurry. Laughing, I open the door with the key card, and he closes it with his foot. He drops me on the bed.

  “I’m going to start the Jacuzzi.” I watch him walk over to the round tub just a few yards from our bed and turn on the water. “Get naked, or that bikini is going to end up torn to shreds,” he says, clearly excited.

  Wow!

  I tear that thing off me at the speed of light. The bikini is beautiful. I bought it yesterday at a crazy expensive store in Tulum, and I don’t want it to end up like most of my underwear.

  Eric grins when he sees my urgency. He bites his lip as he watches me, and, once I’m fully naked, he signals for me to come to him with his index finger. I go. My breasts collide with his taut chest.

  “Show me how much you want me,” he whispers in a raspy voice.

  Oh yes!

  Hot and horny, I untie his swim trunks. My hands slip inside as I kneel before him. Once I get the trunks from around his feet, I lift my eyes and stare at his penis.

  My mouth waters when I see he’s ready for me. I look up at Eric’s face. “I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

  Without hesitation, I take his hard cock in my hand and rub it on my face and neck as I watch him and the look of delight on his face.

  Ready to enjoy this tempting morsel, I run my tongue from one end of it to the other.

  Eric smiles as I nibble—not once taking my eyes off him—until he moans with satisfaction and puts his hand on my head. My breathing gets faster—I want him! Anxious for more, I bring him into my mouth and feel his hands tangle in my hair. He sighs. Oh yes!

  I love his cock: hard, hot, and smooth. Our game continues for a few more minutes until he can’t take it anymore. He pulls on my hair to make me look up at him again.

  “Get in bed.”

  I get up off the floor and do as he says. My knees are trembling. Eric, my powerful god of love, comes to me breathing heavily and gives me an order. “Spread your legs.”

  I gasp and my breathing picks up. I know what he’s going to do, and it drives me crazy.

  Eric gets up on the bed and kisses me. He’s on all fours, like a lion, and brings his mouth close to mine; I can’t wait to devour him.

  Kisses . . . bites . . . my husband knows I’m willing to do anything for him, and he glides down my body until he’s perfectly positioned between my legs and makes me cry out.

  His mouth is moving and making demands at the very core of my desire!

  His fingers open me up and slide inside me over and over as I begin to pant.

  “Don’t stop . . .”

  Oh God . . . he’s not listening to me. I could kill him. And then, suddenly, his tongue—his magnificent, wet tongue—enters me and makes love to me.

  Oh yes, he’s so good at this! I gasp and grab the pretty bone-colored sheets as I jerk and moan over and over while enjoying what my love is doing to me.

  When I think I can’t take any more, Eric rises from between my legs, leans over me, and penetrates me. His thrust is quick and strong, and I arch up to receive him, dying of desire.

  He gives me no break as his hands grab my hips, and he slams into me once and twice . . . over and over. I take it all in. My legs are shaking. My body is vibrating as he takes me, and when the heat, the passion, and the delirium all hit my head at once, I hear a long, satisfied groan. Right after, I groan too, and, sweating from the effort, my man falls on top of me.

  Thirty seconds later, I’m overheating because of the giant laying on my body. “Eric, I can’t breathe.”

  He rolls off to my right on the bed. This time, he takes me with him so that in the end, I’m on top.

  “I love you, sweetheart.” And then, like always, he adds, “Everything all right?”

  Delighted and in love, I grin. “Everything’s perfect, Iceman.”

  We spend the afternoon laughing and playing in our little love nest.

  That night, as we’re finishing up a wonderful meal at the hotel restaurant, Eric’s cell rings. He answers, speaks only briefly, and then leaves it on the table when the call is finished.

  “That was Roberto. We’re meeting at his office tomorrow at eight in the morning.”

  “That means you’ll get up at first light!”

  He’s about to say something, but I don’t let him.

  “Oh no . . . I said I’m not going. I want to sunbathe.”

  “Jude . . .”

  “C’mon, don’t be jealous, silly. I just want to sleep and lie in the sun,” I say. “And then, when you return, we’ll go back to our room and back to our fun, just you and me. What do you think of that?”

  Eric smiles. He knows I’m not going to change my mind.

  “Fine, stubborn girl,” he says finally. “I’ll come back with a pink-labelled bottle. What do you think of that?”

  2

  I wake up at six thirty in the morning and hear Eric in the bathroom. I want to give him a kiss before he goes, but I’m so sleepy, I decide to wait until he’s finished. When I finally awaken, it’s ten thirty.

  “Fuck.”

  Stretching out once more on the enormous and luxurious bed I share with my love, I pick up my cell.

  Everything OK? I type.

  I worry about my guy as much as he worries about me. A minute later, I get a response.

  As soon as I’m with you again, everything will be all right. I love you.

  I smile like a fool, roll around in bed, and enjoy his smell on the sheets. I loaf for a while and then open Facebook on my laptop and upload a photo of Eric and me at the beach. Two seconds later, my wall is chock-full of comments from my friends, the Maxwell Warriors. “Eat him up!” “If you don’t want him, I’ll take him!” “I want an Eric in my life!”

  I laugh. The Warriors are girlfriends I met online, and they’re happy about my wedding and can’t stop teasing me about my honeymoon.

  After a quick shower, I decide to call my father. I glance at the clock and calculate the time difference. It’s evening in Spain, but I know he’s still up. Like Eric, he doesn’t sleep much.

  I sit on the bed and punch in the number. He picks up after two rings.

  “Orale, Papito, hello!”

  “Hi, my love. How is my sweetheart?”

  “Great, Papá. Everything’s great!” I hear him laugh. “This is a dream, and I’m having an amazing time with Eric.”

  “I love hearing that, sweetheart.”

  “Seriously, Papá, you have to come here. You should tell Bicharrón and Lucena that you’re taking your next vacation here. You’re going to love it.”

  My father laughs again.

  “Listen, we couldn’t drag Lucena out of Spain even with a crane! He went to your wedding in Germany only because it was you. Don’t even think about another trip!”

  “He didn’t have a good time?”

  “Oh no, sweetheart, he had a great time. But he’s hung up on food. According to him, there’s no place he’d rather eat than home.”


  “Then include Bicharrón’s wife on your next trip—I’m sure she’d love it!”

  “That’s true . . . and he’d probably like that.”

  We talk for a good while. I tell him a thousand stories, and he tells me how things are going there. He’s a little concerned about the economic crisis. He had to lay off one of his mechanics, and it broke his heart.

  “Is Flyn behaving?”

  “Like a lamb, and let me tell you what a great caretaker he’s turned out to be for Lucía. He loves her! Seriously, my dear, he’s having a lot of fun with the kids from the neighborhood and with Luz. Those two are dangerous together. And what an appetite that kid has. And great taste. If I don’t give him top-of-the-line ham, he quickly looks over and says, ‘Manuel, this ham is no good.’”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I’m telling you. And Pachuca’s chilled tomato soup is driving him crazy.”

  I laugh.

  “We can’t put one foot in the restaurant without that boy asking for a bowl. And he’s like two peas in a pod with Luz. She taught him how to ride a bike and—”

  “Oh God, Papá. He might fall.”

  Crap. I sound exactly like Eric.

  “Easy, sweetheart . . . that kid is tough. Even though he’s had two spectacular crashes against the fence.”

  “Papá!”

  “It’s no big deal, girl. He’s a kid. A couple of bruises and scratches, and everything’s all right. But you should see him on that bike.”

  I smile as I picture them. Luz and Flyn: Who would’ve thought?

  I still remember the first time they met and how disastrous that was. But they’ve gotten to know each other since, and now they can’t get enough of one another. So much that Flyn begged to go to Jerez while we were on our honeymoon.

  “How’s Raquel?” I ask.

  “Your sister is driving me mad, sweetheart.”

  I feel for him. After my wedding, when my sister went back to Spain, she decided to spend some time with my father in Jerez. I offered her the house Eric gave me so she could live there with the girls, but neither she nor my father accepted my offer. They wanted to be together.

  “So, what’s going on with her?”

  “She is ruining my life. Can you believe she’s taken command of the remote?”

  I laugh.

  “I am so sick of shows about gossip, soap operas, and other stuff like that. How can she like that trash so much? And just so you know, she said that when you guys come back to get Flyn after your honeymoon, she’s going to talk to Eric about a job. She says she has to start her life anew, and she can’t do it without a job. And, needless to say, she’s also dealing with Jesús’s constant calls.”