She bit her lip and looked up into his eyes as she reached down with her right hand to stroke him up and down.
He hissed out the second she made contact and his whole body went tense as her small hand wrapped around him.
“Jesus, Isobel,” he bent over and nipped at her shoulder. “I want to be inside you. Can I be inside you?”
When he looked up at her, his cock still in her hand, he looked so vulnerable it made her heart stutter. Like he was asking for more than to just have sex with her.
She didn’t trust her voice so she just nodded. He didn’t break her gaze as he reached beside him for the condoms. She ran her thumb over the bulbous head of his cock and his neck tensed, the vein straining. A drop of pre-cum dripped out and she rubbed it all around his cock. His hands fumbled as he ripped a condom packet open and then he had it at his cock.
Isobel bit her lip as she took it from his hands and rolled it down over his length. Then before she could second-guess herself, she shifted up his thighs and positioned him at her entrance.
His hands went to her waist, guiding her as she sank onto his cock. He held her from going too quickly. Instead, she dropped by increments, the head of his shaft pressing through her folds. He moved so slow she was aware of every sensation as he spread her open and stretched her.
She gasped a sharp inhale at his size. She’d been right—he was thicker than Jason. But the feeling was such a delicious fullness. She adjusted her legs so she was spread even wider to accommodate him.
He groaned low as his cock slid along her inner walls. But then he paused. “Isobel, open your eyes.”
Her eyes popped open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.
She wasn’t prepared for the sight of him, his mouth slightly dropped open, nostrils flared, his eyes dark with lust. And all his focus zeroed in on her at the same time he plunged inside her.
“Eyes on me,” he breathed out.
It was so intense she couldn’t handle it after a few seconds and her eyes dropped. She dipped to kiss his neck but he ducked out of the way and, with his hand, he directed her chin back up.
“Look at me,” he repeated, thrusting up at the same time pulling her down by her waist. His face strained with pleasure as he fully seated himself inside her.
He stilled again, wrapping one hand around her waist and the other up underneath her shoulder, pulling his chest to her breasts until there was no space at all between them. Isobel had literally never been this close to another person in her life. Jason never held her so close when they’d made love. God, even when she breathed in, Hunter’s chest moved with her.
His eyes were so bright. Cornflower blue. They searched back and forth as he watched her. His face was so earnest, brows slightly scrunched, like he was trying to figure her out.
She kept waiting for him to start moving. Then again, she was on top so maybe that was her job? She’d never had sex sitting up like this, but just because he’d been directing her so far didn’t mean he should be expected to do all the work. When she tried to lift up off his shaft, though, his grip on her waist only got tighter to hold her in place.
She cocked her head sideways in confusion but he just said, “Shhh. Just keep looking at me.”
She looked at him.
And it was awkward.
When did people just sit around and stare into each other’s eyes for more than five seconds? Apart from when she was a kid and they played that game where you tried not to blink. Speaking of, when did she last blink?
She blinked. And then blinked again. Shit, now all she could think about was blinking.
Okay, this was getting really awkward.
In fact, being naked with this stranger’s cock up inside her and just staring at each other—without the frantic kissing and tugging and touching and imminent orgasm to distract her… God, how long had they just been staring at each other now? A minute? Five?
Was her body being so close like this making him sweat? Did she smell? She’d given herself a sponge bath at a gas station in Colorado but that was earlier this morning.
What was he thinking while he looked at her? Was he thinking about blinking?
She started watching for him to blink.
But he just seemed to blink at regular intervals. Like a normal person. Because he wasn’t a weird freakazoid who obsessed about how often they blinked while screwing someone.
As the seconds dragged on, and he just kept looking at her, she’d never felt more naked in her life—even though it was just her eyes he was staring into. Somehow that was even more scary than him seeing her cellulite. Because there was nowhere to hide. It felt as intimate or more than his cock penetrating her body.
They said the eyes were the window to the soul. If that was true, could he tell what a fucking mess she was?