She volunteers to tell him

Claire pulls her phone out of her purse with a sleek, triumphant click. "Let me handle this. I'll send him a message right now."

Her fingers fly across the screen, a brilliant, scheming grin lighting up her face. After a minute of furious typing, she turns the screen toward you, leaning back against the mattress so you can read over her shoulder.

Claire: Guess what? My room 'mate' will finish his work tomorrow, and he’s taking me away on a week-long honeymoon. We’re going to spend the next seven days deepening our illicit love and ensuring our love stay deep inside me. He said that doing it feels better if there are real feelings involved.

You read the text, your eyes widening slightly, before you look down at her with a raised eyebrow. "I definitely didn't say that last part."

Claire tilt head back to look at you with a soft, challenging pout. "But do you agree? Do you agree that having real feelings involved makes the sex feel more intense and so much better?"

You look into her dark, dilated eyes, feeling the sudden, thick pull of attraction tightening in your chest. You look at the soft swell of her lips, the memory of her crushing heat from last night rushing back into your mind. "Yes," you answer, your voice deep "I do."

"Well, there's that then," she whispers victoriously.

A sharp buzz vibrates through her phone. Claire taps the screen, revealing Tom's immediate reply. You both look down at the text:

Tom: Jesus, Claire. I’m sitting in the back of this taxi right now struggling to control myself just reading that. I have a raging boner and no way of hiding it. Are you going to keep me updated while you're away with your lover? Please tell me you'll send updates.

Claire smiles, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. "Maybe," she types back loosely, keeping him dangling.

The sight of her sitting on your bed, entirely focused on the psychological thrill of the game, completely snaps whatever restraint you have left. You step forward, climbing onto the mattress and settling your weight right behind her. You slide your arms around her waist, pulling her back against your chest. Your hands move upward, sliding beneath the smooth fabric of her linen shirt, your palms finding the bare, scalding heat of her skin.

Claire lets out a sharp, trembling gasp as your hands move higher, your fingers cupping the heavy, generous weight of her breasts, your thumbs immediately brushing against her stiffening nipples.

Instead of putting the phone down, her eyes flash with a wild, exhibitionist spark. "Oh, god," she whispers, her thumbs flying across the screen again.

As your hands squeeze her pliant, heavy flesh, shaping her against your palms, she types furiously, dictating the exact reality of the room in real time:

Claire: He’s already behind me, Tom. He can’t help putting his hands all over your wife.

With a swift, practiced motion, she switches the phone to the camera app. She holds the device up, angling the lens downward to capture a crystal-clear, high-definition photo of your large, masculine hands buried deep into her chest, stretching her shirt open, her nipples tight and visibly aroused under your touch.

Click.

She hits send on the photo, the little loading bar vanishing instantly. Underneath the image, she types one final, devastating blow to her husband's sanity:

Claire: Forgive me if I don't text you much over the next week. He’s going to keep your adulterous wife very, very busy. Hopefully, I can return home to you with that special, nine-month souvenir you want so badly.

She tosses the phone onto the nightstand, where it immediately begins to buzz and vibrate violently with Tom's frantic responses. But Claire doesn't care anymore. She throws her head back against your shoulder, her body arching into your touch as your hands grip her tighter. "Should we start deepening our love?" she asks coyly.