Much as she wanted to close her eyes and lean her head back against his shoulder, to wrap her arms around his neck and bury her fingers in the fine, golden strands of his hair, she could not bring herself to do it. She could not bring herself to look away. He felt so good. He always felt so fucking good. Admittedly, on other occasions, they would both drop their gaze to watch as he thrust into her, slowly filling her with his throbbing, pulsing length.