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I don’t let her. I grip her hips, my fingers digging into the dirt beneath her, and I eat.

She tastes like Earth and want, like the field itself distilled into something that makes my cock leak against my jeans.

I lick her from bottom to top, slow and filthy, then flatten my tongue against her clit and grind.

She bucks against my mouth, sobbing, and I feel her tighten, feel the flutter of muscles that aren’t ready yet, that need to be broken in before I can take her the way I need to.

“Rhett, I can’t—”

“You can.” I suck her clit between my teeth, flick it with my tongue, and she shatters. The first orgasm rips through her and I feel it against my mouth, her pussy pulsing, clenching, wetness flooding my chin.

I don’t stop. I keep licking, keep sucking, keep fucking her with my tongue until she’s writhing in the dirt, until the soil clings to her sweaty back, until she’s begging.

“Please, please, please—”

“More.” I push two fingers into her, feel her stretch around them, the resistance that makes me groan against her. “Give me more.” I curl my fingers, find the spot that makes her see stars, and she cums again, harder this time, her thighs clamping around my head, her nails drawing blood in my scalp.

I welcome it. Use it. Fuck her through the aftershocks with my mouth, my fingers, the greedy noise of it that echoes in the corn.

When I finally lift my head, she’s wrecked. Panting, whimpering, her pussy swollen and open yet it’s still not enough.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, taste her on my knuckles, and take my cock out.

She sees it and her eyes go wide. “Fuck,” she breathes.

“Yeah.” I fist myself, thick and heavy in my grip, the tip already slick with need. “You’re not stretched enough, sweetheart. Need you, open.” I reach for an ear of corn from the stalk beside us and twist it free. It’s heavy in my hand, fully ripened, with soft silk spilling from the stop and firm kernels packed beneath the husk.

Her eyes track it. “Rhett—”

“Trust me.” I drag the tip down her stomach, over her hip, between her legs.

She flinches, then moans when I press it against her soaked cunt.

“Relax. Let me.” I push it in slowly. So fucking slow. The corn slides into her pussy, stretching—opening her up for me.

She cries out, her back arching off the dirt, her hands clawing at the soil.

I slide it in and out, adding a slow twist each time, never taking my eyes off her face as the unfamiliar, filthy sensation overwhelms her.

“Good girl.” I growl. “Such a good fucking girl, taking it. Taking everything I give you.”

“Rhett, I—”

I pull it out and drag it lower.

She tenses. “No—”

“Yes.” I press against her ass, feeling the tight resistance before lowering myself over her. My mouth brushes the shell of her ear, and I feel the shiver that runs through her. “You said you wanted to be caught, Sage.” My voice drops, rough and low. “So you don’t get half of me.” I tighten my grip on her. “You get everything.” I press harder. “Every hole. Every need. Every fucking part of you that begged me to chase you in the first place.” Then I push.

She screams into my shoulder, her teeth sinking into my skin as the corn breaches her, slow, thick and relentless.

I ease it deeper, then draw it back in slow, careful increments. My other hand finds her clit, circling as I give her time to adjust, until the tension begins to leave her body and she starts pushing back against me, chasing the sensation instead of resisting it.

A whimper slips from her lips.

She wants more. “Please,” she sobs, pushing back against me. “Please, Rhett, please…”

“That’s it.” I twist the corn slowly, and her ass clenches around it. My cock throbs at the sight, absurdly fucking jealous of anything that gets to be inside her when I’m not. “Beg me.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. “Beg me to fuck you.”