She tells Max

She leans into Max, her lips brushing his ear with a confession that tastes like stolen adrenaline. "I want that." His fingers freeze mid-stroke against her inner thigh. "Not just watching...being her." The air between them thickens as the implications settle. Max exhales sharply through his nose, eyes darkening with something primal. He doesn’t answer with words, just slides the resort tablet across the table. The screen glows with an open booking page: *Beginner’s Gangbang—Tonight, 10 PM. Limited Spots.*

Mea’s heart hammers against her ribs as she studies Max’s face, the tightness in his jaw betraying his restraint. "You’d really let me?" The question hangs between them, weighted with sixteen years of monogamy. Max’s thumb traces the edge of her lip where Derrick’s cum had been earlier, smearing the last traces like a claim. "Not let," he corrects, voice gravelly. "Watch. Slowly." His grip tightens on her hip as the silver-haired man’s chuckle drifts over from the next table.

Across the courtyard, the redhead shrieks as one of her lovers lifts her onto the waterfall’s ledge, her thighs splayed wide for the crowd. Mea’s fingernails dig into Max’s wrist, her breath coming faster. The resort’s ambient sounds—splashing water, murmured French, the slick slide of skin, coalesce into a dizzying symphony of temptation. She reaches for the tablet, her fingers trembling as she hovers over *CONFIRM BOOKING*. "We could cancel if I panic," she murmurs, more to herself than to him. Max’s answering growl vibrates against her neck. "You won’t."