Amish Redemption (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy)

by Rush, Miranda

  “Slippery, velvety, silk. Amazing.” His voice was husky. He unbuttoned her dress from the top down. His hands squeezed her breasts again, pushing her bra up over them to allow him easier access.

  I want to touch him! She couldn’t budge. She strained against the ropes.

  Nick laughed. “You’re not getting free. You’re all mine.” Just hearing those words made her tingle.

  His hand traveled down the front of her panties, massaging her clit and lips. Then he grabbed her panties in his hand and yanked. There was a sharp tearing of fabric and her undergarment fell into two shreds, one in Nick’s hand and one at her ankle. He tucked her dress behind her, baring her nakedness. She shivered deliciously.

  He stood back to look her over. “Look at you. Gorgeous!” She flushed with excitement. After all this time, he can still make me blush.

  Her want was now a burning need. Her body demanded that they merge, and quickly. “Please . . .”

  He laughed again. “Always in such a rush.” It was her turn to hungrily watch him. With deliberate, delaying hands he unzipped his jeans, exposing his erection. He had not been wearing underwear. He slipped his pants down a bit on his hips and while watching her, stroked himself . . . up and down. Up and down.

  “Here!” She raised her voice. “Come here!”

  He laughed once more and stepped close to her. He pressed himself against her while pinching and rubbing her nipples together between his fingers. She felt the warm hardness of his cock against her belly and the band that existed between her nipples and her core became resoundingly taut.

  She gasped loudly. He’s driving me crazy! Her need was becoming dire.

  Bending his knees, he barely put the head of his engorged penis inside her and then withdrew. Barely inside, then withdrew again. She screamed in frustration only to have him straighten up and clap a hand over her mouth.

  “If Rachel wakes up, you’ll be left hanging . . . with blue ovaries.” She did not fully get the taunt, but fully understood the gist. She nodded and he released her mouth, kissed it firmly and then turned his attention back to teasing her. Bending his knees once more, he centered the head of his erection at her entrance and pushed strongly into her center. He withdrew and delved in again . . . and again. Grasping her hips, he thrust over and over.

  “Harder,” she whispered.

  He obeyed, hammering his love into her, filling her and withdrawing and filling her once more. He transferred his hands to her shoulders, and kissed her. Unable to move, she was fully absorbed with him: his chest hair as it lightly brushed up against her, his legs as they pressed against hers, his cock as it possessed her.

  She felt her passion overtaking her. Sharp grunts escaped her lips with each stroke. His cadence grew stronger and faster, pushing her higher and closer to insanity. “Fuck me harder,” she panted. He clutched her buttocks in his hands and drove himself deeply inside her. In and out, in and out, in and out: they were rapid, furious waves. She submitted to the deluge of passion and broke in electric storms throughout her body over and over; causing her to stiffen, then shake against her restraints.

  He wasn’t finished yet. Bringing one hand in between them, he rubbed her almost-over-sensitive clit, forcing her to come over and over again and she stood helpless against him as he continued to fuck her. She broke out in cries and feeling her spasm internally, his cock became larger and even harder. He grasped her bottom again and pounded his love into her until he was pulsating hot jets inside of her, making high pitched sounds as he came.

  I love him and oh! I love his cock. And his eyes and his hands and his hair. But oooh, I love his cock. Asked further, Rebekah would have also listed Nick’s intangible qualities to the list: his grace, his kindness, his intelligence. Those would have mattered most. But she couldn’t deny that a key element of Nick was his wonderful manhood.

  Upon Nick’s untying her, she walked, while buttoning herself up, toward the blanket where Rachel was sleeping. Glancing up from her dress, anxiety fluttered in her stomach. Rachel was not on the blanket. Left behind was only the crown of woven wildflowers, now faded. Rebekah scanned the surrounding hayfield for a little dark curly head. Rachel was nowhere to be seen.

  “Nick!” He was already coming towards her.

  “Where’s Rachel?”

  “I don’t know!” It was a plaintive cry.

  Their eyes searched the area swiftly—hayfield, woods, and about a quarter of a mile down the rolling hills was a road, a pond—oh, shit! Pond!

  “Rachel!” Both of them called together. No reply.

  Rebekah began to run in the direction of the pond. “Rachel!” She shrieked her daughter’s name as she ran. Nick ran in the opposite direction, toward the road.

  “Rachel!” She heard Nick calling from behind her. His calls kept getting farther away. The only answering sound was the hammering of her own heart in her head and her ragged, panicky breaths as she ran. Sharp grasses snagged and scratched her legs and still she ran. She kept picturing finding Rachel floating face down in the water, her peach dress sodden and muddy and pond algae clinging to her pale skin.

  “Rachel!” She was about halfway there. It did not occur to her to walk slowly, looking through the hay as she went. She knew instinctively that Rachel had come this way, and had headed for the pond. Her only hope was to run to beat her there.

  She was so concentrated on arriving at the pond that she almost passed right over the object. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of peach which she recognized as being the same shade as Rachel’s dress. It brought her up short. It was a small thing caught in the grasses. Rebekah stooped to pick it up. It was one of Rachel’s ribbons.

  She was now frantic. The ribbon only confirmed her deepest fears. Rachel was in the pond. Tears stung her eyes. She screamed her daughter’s name aloud once more then yelled for Nick, “Over here!”

  Clutching the ribbon, she recommenced racing toward the pond. She heard Nick’s shouts behind her but did not slow her pace.

  The pond was looming larger. No sign of Rachel. Rebekah’s foot stuck a small tree branch hidden by the grass and she came down hard. Sharp shards of pain tore through her left knee as she landed. She winced and began to cry, not so much at the pain, but because she had been slowed down from finding Rachel. And I might be too late now, she thought.

  Wasting no time in self-pity or remorse, she picked herself back up and threw her body back into flying down the hill toward the pond.

  Closer and closer, still no sign of Rachel. Tall reeds obscured part of the water’s edge and Rebekah could not see past until arriving there. At the pond, she saw no sign of Rachel. She walked briskly along the bank, rapidly blinking tears from her eyes, until right at the pond’s edge. Then, her feet sank deeply into the mud with each step.

  “Rachel!”

  There was no answer. She heard Nick’s voice behind her and his hands were upon her, turning her to face him.

  “What? What did you find?” His voice was demanding. Rebekah knew he was frightened. She opened her hand to show him the small peach ribbon that had so recently been in their child’s hair. He squeezed her hand shut over it and shouted, “Rachel!” He walked off in the mud to begin a search around the perimeter of the pond.

  Rebekah started to go the opposite direction around the pond. I don’t know where to look. There were no small footprints in the mud in one direction where Nick had gone. Off to the side was a thick growth of wild blackberry brambles. The other direction was thick with cattails and reeds. Rachel’s body might be floating in there and she would never see it until she was right on top of it.

  Fighting the hysteria that was building in her throat, she splashed swiftly into the cattails, bending and pushing them aside to find her daughter. Nothing. She turned and slopped through the mud and waist–high water once more to find no Rachel.

  “Rachel!” Her wail was desperate. She stood silently, hugging herself tightly. She heard Nick’s calls in the distance. Rachel. Where ar
e you?

  Rebekah decided to go back to where she found the ribbon—if she could find that point now—and search from there. It didn’t seem a very good plan, but it was all she could think of. Despair was starting to fill her heart and she kept fighting it back by forcing into her mind the image of holding Rachel tightly in her arms when she found her.

  Just as she was starting to slog out of the pond, she heard it: a high pitched child’s shriek. Rachel.

  “Rachel?”

  A giggle came in response. Rebekah nearly broke into tension relieving sobs. “Rachel, where are you?” She scrambled out of the pond, yelling, “Nick! Over here,” although she really didn’t know exactly where Rachel was.

  She began sifting through the thick grass for a dark curly head. “Rachel, come to Mama.” No response came but encouraged now, Rebekah searched in the direction that she had heard Rachel’s voice. Another peal of delight led her to change course somewhat, this time in the direction of the blackberry bushes. Two steps, look right . . . look left. No Rachel. Right up to the brambles. Two more steps. Look right . . . look left— Rebekah froze. Rachel was sitting on the ground with her legs apart in front of her. Sitting on her dress in between her legs was a small black furry creature with white stripes going down its back. Skunk. Oh shit, Rebekah thought.

  Rachel looked up at her mother with sheer joy. “Kitty!”

  Rebekah slowly exhaled. “Rachel, we’ve got to go now. Put the kitty down.” Then she hesitated. What if the animal was rabid? Skunks didn’t customarily allow children to come pick them up. She scrutinized this one carefully, without moving. There was no discharge from its mouth or otherwise. This didn’t mean that it wasn’t ill, however. Panic began to build in her again.

  Rachel patted the animal’s striped back. “Pretty kitty!” She was bending down to—oh no!—kiss the skunk’s head.

  “Rachel, don’t kiss the kitty.” Rebekah made her voice sharp. The child looked up at her, confused. Maybe if I approach slowly and quietly, I can shoo the skunk off of her. No, wait a minute, what if it bites her?

  Footsteps thundered up behind her. It was Nick, rushing forward to see what she had found.

  She felt it before she smelled it. A thousand tiny needles were puncturing her eyes, nose and throat. The smell of putrid lemons filled her nostrils and mouth. Rachel began to cry. Painful tears streaming down her face, Rebekah looked for the cause of her daughter’s complaint and saw no blood or bite. Instead, Rachel pointed to the skunk that was, in all good sense, ambling off.

  “Kitty go away!”

  Behind her, Nick was gagging. Despite the severe irritation of the skunk’s spray, Rebekah could not repress a chuckle. That was followed by giggles, and then gales of laughter poured out of her. She looked at Nick, who had quit choking and was now gawking at her like she was insane.

  “What is so funny?”

  Tears of merriment coursed down her cheeks. “It’s just that—” She was beset by another fit of giggles. “We were so worried. We just knew she had drowned and here she was the whole time, playing with a skunk like it was a cat!”

  Nick afforded a laugh at that, then more. She joined him and the more they laughed, the more amusing the situation became, except to poor Rachel, who howled crossly because her kitty had run away.

  Nick scooped up their daughter and kissed her. Rachel wrinkled her nose against the smell of him. Apparently the skunk had directional spraying abilities. Rebekah was glad that Rachel didn’t get caught in the blast. She would be miserable if she had.

  They gathered up their things along the edge of the field and walked back to their vehicle. Nick buckled Rachel securely into her car seat in the van while Rebekah found a snack in her diaper bag to soothe her while they drove home.

  “I wonder how we are going to get rid of this stench. Tomato juice?”

  Rebekah said thoughtfully, “I heard that Massengil women’s soap was a good way to get rid of it.”

  “No!” Nick started to laugh again. He started the van and put on the lights. Daylight was fading quickly. Rebekah looked at the dashboard clock. 8:00 pm, it read. She hadn’t realized that they had spent so much time looking for Rachel. No wonder the baby was grumpy. It was past her bedtime. She would undoubtedly fall asleep on the ride home.

  I might fall asleep on the way home, too. With the crisis of losing Rachel being over, Rebekah felt an overall exhaustion and deep ache in her left knee from having fallen. Nick was humming as he drove and she began to nod off. She thought—or was it a dream?—that Nick was singing the song about coming undone, the Duran Duran song he had sung to her after they had once made love two years ago.

  She drifted back into consciousness just in time to see a large pickup truck that was hurtling towards them swerve out of control and jump into their lane. Its speed did not allow her to think about what was happening. She barely had time to feel fear. She did not even have time to cry out or brace for impact.

  Chapter Seven

  Her world exploded around her, sending lightening blasts of pain through her. A swift jolt slapped her chest as the airbag deployed and she felt a sense of imbalance accompanied by tremendous jarring and realized the van was rolling downhill. Sharp agony struck her left leg and chest and then darkness was all around.

  Awareness seeped back in thickly as Rebekah became cognizant of Rachel screeching from the second seat. She was almost drowned out by the continuous blare of the van’s horn. Vertigo overtook her and she realized that the van was upended, lying on the driver side. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she tried to unsuccessfully break her fall against Nick’s seat. She landed against him with a sickening thud. Her breathing came in jagged spurts. Nick made no sound at all.

  “Honey?” Her throat was only capable of producing raspy, guttural sounds. There was no answer. She strained to see him in the darkness of the van. Rebekah placed a tentative hand on his chest. His chest rose and fell almost unperceptively. Relief flooded her and she turned her attention to Rachel. She twisted her body to crawl into the second seat and raw torment from her left leg prevented her movement. She tried to advance it and found it would not move of its own volition. She willed her right one to move and it obeyed. With shaking hands, she clutched her left knee and pulled upward while bracing her left foot against her seat in effort to propel herself back towards her child. The extreme pain caused bile to rise up in her throat. She stopped for a half second to breathe a short agonizing breath before pushing forward.

  Grasping and clawing, she brought herself astride where Rachel was. She reached over to the side to switch the dome light on. Miraculously, it worked. Rachel was still strapped in her car seat. Rebekah searched for injury and found none visible. She must be scared out of her mind. Rebekah wished she could turn off that damned horn. Unbuckling the child, she took her in her arms to comfort her, avoiding as much as possible the painful areas of her left leg and chest. Rachel continued to howl. Acting on some ineffable mothering instinct, she unbuttoned the front of her dress and gave the girl her breast. Although she had not breastfed Rachel for the better part of a year, natural impulse took over for them both: to comfort and be comforted.

  Soon, Rachel pulled away from her, mollified and wide-eyed.

  “It’s okay,” Rebekah told her. “You stay right here. I’m going to check on Daddy.” Rachel stared at her. “I’ll be right back,” said Rebekah.

  She struggled back to the front of the van. Arriving there, she was instantly made nauseous by what she saw. Where Nick’s legs should have been was a twist of metal chunks. His body, from where the van ate into his thighs to his chest, was soaked deep red. It was hard to tell which one of the legs was affected. It appeared to be both. He lay silent and frighteningly still.

  “Nick!”

  A groan tore from his lips.

  “Nick!” Oh my God, no! She must get help, she knew, but how? Trying not to touch him too much, she searched the pocket of his shirt for the cell phone. Empty. Of course it is empty; she was suddenly
cross with herself, as if it were her fault that the phone wasn’t in his pocket. We’ve been rolling around in the van. She looked around on the driver’s side of the van and saw no phone, only dark pools of Nick’s blood collecting around his body. She was grief-stricken. Nick was dying, she was certain. He was bleeding to death in their van and she couldn’t do anything to help him because she couldn’t find the phone. She considered crawling up to where the road was to try to flag a car down, but knew without a doubt Nick would be dead long before she got there.

  “Nick.” It was a strangled sound. She had never felt so alone, so helpless. Tears stung her eyes as she fumbled about, searching for the damned phone.

  “Wha . . . you want?” His words were almost unintelligible.

  Rebekah was jubilant. He had responded to her! She suddenly felt she could do this; she could save him.

  “Nick,” she hissed urgently. “Where is the phone?” The words were out before she could stop them. It made no sense asking him, she knew. He was not even quite conscious.

  “In . . . my pocket,” he said with great effort. It was hard to hear him over the sound of the horn.

  “No, I looked there.” She instantly felt dismal again.

  “In . . . my pants pocket.” She recollected them sweeping their belongings up swiftly. Was it possible?

  She patted his right thigh, and then his left, before she found the bulge that was the phone. Reaching across him, she stuffed her hand down his pocket. Inside was much warm, slippery liquid she knew to be his blood. She persisted inward and was able to touch the phone’s edge. Loathe to move him much, she found that she had to unbuckle his seat belt to allow her hand to fit more deeply inside his pocket. He groaned loudly.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. He didn’t answer. Her own pain forgotten, she plunged her hand into his pocket, grappling with the phone. Gripping her fingers tightly around it, she pulled it free. She wiped the blood off on the front of her dress and punched in 911 Send.

  “911 Operator. Please state the nature of your emergency.”