Virgin Lust - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Magnus Roland's voice rang out like a Sunday sermon as he waved off the crowd. "This here's Emily Andersoncollege girl wanting to learn farm life. Y'all behave now!"
A chorus of disgruntled murmurs rose from the burly farmhands as they scattered. One of them thumped his chest, grumbling about too many damn people around. Maybe once she was broken in, they'd get another shot.
"A woman oughta know her place. One man's all she needs," someone muttered.
Emily's neck burned, humiliation creeping up her cheeks. She bit her lip, thighs pressing together as restless energy coiled inside her.
Her arms trembled, too weak to dig, so Magnus took over, sinking the shovel into the earth with care. "Somethin' valuable here. Can't go hackin' at it."
He worked the soil loose, inch by inch, until a hole revealed its prizea cassava root thicker than her wrist.
God. So massive. So firm. So much.
Her delicate fingers curled around it, stroking the rough surface as she eased it free.
A gust of wind caught her skirt, baring everything. Magnus stood right behind her, and she felt the change in himhis breath hitching, his stance shifting.
His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "Easy now. Dig your nails in, and it'll hurt."
Was he talking about the cassava… or himself?
Her lips parted on a shaky exhale. "Then show me how to pull it out, Uncle Magnus. I love handling big, thick roots like this."
She glanced backher gaze locking onto the undeniable strain in his jeans.
A sharp smack landed on her backside, sending a bolt of pleasure through her. She shuddered, biting back a whimper.
"Little minx," he growled. "You've been playin' me this whole damn time."
She nodded eagerly. Magnus was unlike any man she'd ever met. And she wanted all of him.
"Mine's worse than cassava," he warned. "Ain't natural. Even an 800-pound stallion wouldn't measure up."
Her mind reeled. She'd known he'd be bigbut this? Terrifying.
If a horse couldn't compare… would she even survive him?
A shiver raced down her spine.
Magnus sighed, disappointment flickering in his gaze, but he stayed silent.
"Pay attention, girl." He pressed against her back, his powerful arms caging her in. Every shift of his hips brushed his hard abdomen against her rear.
His calloused hands covered hers as they worked the cassava free. "Finesse, not force. Or it'll snap."
Each tug made her hyper-aware of his size, his strength.
He hadn't lied.
He was worse than the cassava.
She'd heard of men like thisgenital hypertrophy, the doctors called it. Most women couldn't take it.
Fear and want warred inside her. Men like him were rare. If she walked away now, she'd regret it forever.
Before she could think, her hand shot down, gripping himbut her fingers couldn't even close halfway. A deep, primal groan tore from his throat. "Emily… easy."
She smirked, sinking to her knees and taking his fingers into her mouth. "Uncle Magnus… make me yours."
His fingers were huge, stretching her lips wide.
Then he took control, thrusting deep until they hit her throat.
Her teasing had snapped his restraint. Her jaw ached, but the emptiness between her legs was worse.
"You want this?" he rasped. "I'll ruin you."
Heat flooded her facefear, anticipation, need. His hands kneaded her flesh, spreading her open.
His mouth seared her chest, the thin fabric no match for his hunger. Every sensitive spot was his to claim.
He was roughand she loved it. Pleasure rolled through her in waves, her vision whiting out as drool slipped past her lips.
"No woman's ever dared take me," he gritted out. "Too scared of gettin' split open. But today… you get it all."
Her skirt ripped as he flipped her onto her hands and knees.
"You can still back out," he mutteredbut his hands never stopped.
His jeans dropped, revealing thick veins and a monstrous reality worse than she'd imagined.
She looked up at him, pulse roaring in her ears.
So empty.
So desperate.
If he didn't fill her now, she'd die.