Amish Redemption (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy)

by Rush, Miranda

  She strived to free herself from his grasp, only to have him tighten his hold upon her arm and assail her harder with his prick. Rebekah was conflicted, nearly overwhelmed from sensory overload, yet worshiping him moving within her. Panting, she lay still beneath his onslaught.

  He laughed again. “Giving up the fight so soon?”

  He released her, backing off completely. She almost collapsed, like putty in his hands, yet needing . . . needing still. He pushed her headfirst over the side of the bed, letting her partially hang upside down and then mounted her again. Securing her body on the bed by gripping her wrists tightly in his fists, he rode her avariciously. In and out and in and out. Thrust! Thrust! Thrust! She bent her knees high and counted his strokes until the numbers made no sense and then she started over. Blood was pummeling through her brain. Ezekiel bent down and nipped her neck with sharp, rough bites. The stirrings in her body were threatening to overwhelm her. She had to come. She had to.

  He let go of one hand and she gripped the bedclothes tightly to keep from being rocked off the bed. Starting at her throat, he planted his fingernails into her skin and drew downward to her navel. She drew in her breath swiftly. His cock pierced her, hammering into her gluttonously.

  “Touch me! Please!”

  Finally, he granted her request. His fingers simultaneously massaged both sides of her nub up and down in time to his vigorous drives into her core. The sexual tension she felt in her body increased a hundred-fold. She began to writhe underneath him, moving to his tempo and then her world exploded around her. A shriek that began in her guts reached an ear-splitting level by the time it exited her throat. He continued to stroke her clit with his fingers, exciting climax after climax from her until he could take no more and gave way to his own orgasm. His strokes were heavy and fierce, shoving them perilously close to the edge of the bed. She clutched the covers in effort to hold on, to no avail. He grasped both of her buttocks in his hands and pounded into her, grinding out his orgasm as he shouted his rapture. His final push toppled them over the side of the bed to land on the floor tangled up in each other’s limbs, laughing uproariously.

  Finally dressed again, they cleaned up the mess on the floor and walked down the stairs together. Mother Yoder was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her arms akimbo. She wore a self-satisfied look on her face.

  “Well, I heard you two fighting.” Damn her! She sounds so eager.

  Rebekah gave her a steady glare. “No, we were just fucking each other to death,” she said. Ezekiel choked on a giggle. The smugness drained from Mother Yoder’s face. That woman will not rest until she creates enough trouble to have everyone miserable.

  It had been a problem she had been mulling over the past week when it became apparent that Mother Yoder would not change her ways; her hostility would simply become covert rather than overt. Rebekah had brooded over the options to resolve the problem of constant conflict in her household and at that moment, with Mother Yoder’s disappointment in their happiness so obvious, she made her decision.

  “I think it is time you moved out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Breakfast smelled repulsive. Rebekah passed the bowls of biscuits and gravy around the table without taking any. The small sips of coffee she had taken were making tumultuous waves in her stomach. The animated chatter of the children and Ezekiel—which had blossomed once Mother Yoder had moved out into a small converted shed—made surges of claustrophobic pressure against her.

  Ezekiel touched her hand. “Are you alright? You’re pale—”

  “Excuse me.” She raced into the kitchen, almost tripping over the bench in her haste to leave the table. Hauling herself over to the washbasin, she disgorged jet after jet of sick liquid to splatter in the pan. Ezekiel’s strong arms came around her as she retched. Over and again she regurgitated helplessly until the heaving finally stopped.

  Sill holding her steady, Ezekiel plucked a dishtowel from the dish rack and wiped her face dry. Rebekah snugged into the hollow of his neck, clinging to him.

  “Maybe you should be in bed today,” he suggested.

  “No, I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not sick; I’ll be fine in about seven months.”

  “You mean—”

  “I think this one is going to be a boy.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  She smiled haphazardly. “He’s royally kicking my backside.”

  Ezekiel put his head back and roared, hugging her tight. “Mein Gott! Is gud! Is gud!” He kissed her cheek, and then got on his knees to kiss her belly. He stood up again, encircling her in his arms once more. His eyes were a sparkling blue but his tone was hushed, reverent. “His name will be Isaac.”

  ***

  Rebekah had returned to selling eggs to her parents’ store and pastries and jams by the roadside in good weather, despite Ezekiel’s protests that she had enough to take care of at home and they didn’t need the extra money. Still, she knew the economy was bad and that he had not gotten as many orders for cabinets or furniture as he normally did this time of year. Their bank account was not stressed, but Rebekah was determined to do what she could to contribute until the encumbrance of her pregnancy kept her homebound. Now in her sixth month, her belly and breasts had rounded considerably, something she found Ezekiel quite enjoyed. He often requested that she sleep in just her skin as did he, citing the muggy July nights as the reason. It was an obvious ruse, she reflected with amusement, since complying with his requests often led to activities that got both of them even more drenched with sweat.

  She was running a little behind this morning since she and Ezekiel’s nocturnal activities had lingered into the morning hours, putting them both behind in their chores. After seven months of being back together, their ardor had not cooled, nor had her pregnancy stalled them. The only difference was that Ezekiel tended to be gentler, despite her assertions that she could handle and wanted more rigorous lovemaking.

  Humming the melody of a hymn, she awkwardly led the horse to the barn to hitch him up to the buggy. The baby weighed heavily within her, making her movements clumsy. A kick from within landed in her bladder, necessitating the need to urinate. She sighed. She was constantly peeing these days. Oh well, it will soon be over, she thought, continuing her song.

  Her mind on the pressure in her bladder, she didn’t hear him enter the barn; she didn’t hear him come behind her.

  “Hello, Rebekah.”

  Nearly falling, she spun around from the horse. Even before her eyes met his, sick dread distended her intestines and her heart ratcheted up its beating. Her breath stopped.

  Jakob.

  “You shouldn’t have come back here, whore.”

  Her eyes darted from his face to the hunting knife he clutched in his hands.

  Prison life had not been kind to Jakob. Murky circles hollowed his eye sockets and long, chelated scars rose purple on his face. One particular scar originated at the corner of his mouth and crested his chin, resulting in a lip permanently split to reveal diseased gums. A constant trickle of saliva formed, bubbling like a rabid dog as he spoke. He jeered at her maliciously and she could see that the teeth Nick had knocked out the day Jakob had raped her had not been the only ones lost. The depravity he once wore had deepened significantly. Pure hatred seethed from him. Before, he had simply been heartlessly brutal. Now, he was dangerously inhuman. And he wanted revenge.

  He waved his knife at her. She screamed.

  “Shut up, whore!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her deeper into the barn. She resisted. No matter what I do, he is going to kill me. But she knew it was no use. Jakob had always outweighed her by nearly double. If anything, he had gained weight in prison. Terrorized, she screeched again and was met by his fist in the side of her face. She felt a nauseating crack and knew he had broken her jaw. “I said, shut the fuck up!”

  Placing his knife against her throat, he forced her down supine on the straw strewn floor
and knelt beside her. “For the past two and a half years I sat in that cell and thought good and hard of what I would do to you the day I got out. Well, bitch, that day is today.”

  Clutching her smock in his free hand, he yanked forcefully, tearing the fabric from the neckline to her hips, exposing her ivory skin from her chest to her swollen belly.

  “Oh, ho! What do we have here?” He traced the tip of the knife down her abdomen. Tears sprang to Rebekah’s eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. He laughed uproariously. “I can think of all kinds of fun to have with this,” he said nastily.

  He straddled her thighs and with a mighty, swift stroke, raised the knife above his head and drove it down toward her heart. She squeezed her eyes closed, awaiting her death. Several seconds passed. Death did not come.

  His mocking laughter opened her eyes again. “Oh not yet. Not yet. I’m going to have my fun and take you apart bit by bit, but not before you watch me cut it out and cut it to pieces.” He pierced the skin of her distended belly with the blade, drawing a trickle of blood.

  She begged. “No, Jakob, don’t. Please. I’ll give you anything—”

  His blade transferred to her throat, and he got down into her face, his eyes raving and his voice silky soft. Somehow the disparity between the two made him even more ominous. “Yes, bitch. You’ll give me everything. And you are looking pretty good to me,” he licked his lips, “despite having gotten fat. But just knowing what I’m going to do to your baby afterward is going to make it that much more enjoyable.”

  He sat back on her knees and, pushing up her tattered dress, plunged the knife into the front of her bloomers and sliced downward. The edge opened her flesh, causing crimson to seep through the laceration from her thigh to her knee. He laughed gleefully, enjoying himself.

  He rapidly unzipped his fly, exposing his erection. Rebekah envisioned him cleaving the baby from her womb. She was about to get raped again, but all she could think of was escaping for the baby’s sake. Jakob grimaced darkly, tapping the tip of his penis. “He’s been thinking about your cunt, too.”

  He then forced her legs apart and lowered himself onto her. He poised himself at her entrance. The knife came up without warning and gashed deeply into Rebekah’s left breast as his prick pierced her. She screamed again in pain.

  She expected him to continue to slash her but instead, he brought the blade to his lips and licked it, smearing her blood around his mouth. “Tasty,” he said.

  He pushed his way painfully inside her, each thrust bringing wet gurgles up in Rebekah’s chest. She knew it was over. It was just a matter of how much pain he was going to bring to bear before granting her and her unborn child the sweet release of death. He cackled, taking immense maniacal pleasure in her torture.

  Over and over again he stabbed her with his cock. In and out and in and out, he lambasted her with fevered malignance. She lay limp. Breathing was excruciating. She heard him make glottal noises and knew that he was almost finished. He rose up of an instant, jabbing her again in the chest with the blade. She tried to shout, but what came out were low, gravelly sounds. Riding her hard and fast, he broke into a furious pitch as blood spewed up from her lips. He grunted his satisfaction as his orgasm struck him and as he was coming he careened toward her again with the blade, penetrating her left shoulder. Things were starting to grow dim.

  Crash!

  Jakob went flying off of her, leaving the knife still stuck in her left shoulder. He scrambled to his feet and she expected him to come back to finish her, but his attention was directed elsewhere. She rose up in confusion to see Ezekiel and Jakob circling each other about ten feet away. Ezekiel had a shovel in his hands. He must have struck his son with that. Rebekah sat up, unbelieving. Jakob was unfazed.

  “You think you can take me, old man?” He jeered evilly. “I will kill you. But first I’m going to make you watch me cut her to ribbons.”

  “You are going back to jail.”

  Jakob made a harsh sound. “Ha! Not forever. When I get out, you’ll be very old—not quite able to defend your delectable wife there, will you? So, if I don’t get her now, I’ll get her later.” A new glint came into his eyes. “And then I’ll fuck and slice up her daughter. Or . . . maybe I should do that now? That would be fun.”

  The men circled again. Ezekiel swung the shovel at Jakob’s head. The blow was partially blocked, glancing instead off Jakob’s right shoulder. Once more, Ezekiel thrust the head of the shovel, aiming this time at his son’s neck. Jacob parried but the sharp edge bit deeply into his forearm, causing a wash of blood to course down and drip off his elbow. Smash! Another impact landed squarely on the side of his head. Jakob blanched and dropped his arms, swaying.

  Rebekah expected Jakob to drop and evidently Ezekiel did as well, for he lowered the shovel. Instantly, Jakob’s hands flew out and, to Rebekah’s horror, snatched it away. Wildly he swung at the older man’s temple. Rebekah cringed as the blow met its mark. Thunk! Ezekiel was stunned. Seizing the opportunity, Jakob struck his father’s head once, twice, three times more before Ezekiel fell to his knees. Rebekah’s heart sank. Oh dear God, no.

  As he fell forward, Ezekiel grasped his son’s ankles and tore Jakob’s feet out from under him. The shovel flew several yards where it hit the dirt with a dull clang. Ezekiel threw his body on top of Jakob and began to pummel him. The men rolled around on the dusty floor, exchanging punches.

  Ezekiel delivered a strike to Jakob’s face and blood splattered for several feet.

  Rebekah’s heart skipped a beat.

  Using the heel of his hand, Jakob slammed Ezekiel’s chin. Ezekiel brought his fist into Jakob’s eye. Another hit and another. Jakob was waning. Just as Rebekah was certain that he would be subdued, Jakob heaved forward and managed to wrestle his father underneath him once more. Sitting astride him with his back to Rebekah, he began to pound Ezekiel with renewed force.

  Rebekah’s heart sank. Both men were equally matched in weight but Jakob was less than half his father’s age. Although Ezekiel was spurred by the need to protect his family, Jakob was aflame with an insane avenging bloodlust.

  Over and over again, Jakob’s fists found their brutal way to Ezekiel’s face which spewed forth red with every strike until Ezekiel was lying unmoving. Jakob continued to pelt him with blows. Rebekah was helpless. Blood flowed down her chest, making a puddle in her lap; the knife still protruded from her shoulder. Jakob was beating the life from the man that she loved.

  At this very moment, Rebekah knew that she was deeply in love with Ezekiel. She couldn’t let another man she loved die before her eyes but what could she do? She was diminutive even for a woman and had no remarkable strength. What strength she did possess was flowing out of her in the form of her lifeblood. She was weakening, disoriented, nearly in shock. Yet, she knew it was all up to her. She couldn’t hesitate. Anything that could be done, she would have to do now.

  Placing both hands around the knife’s handle, she tried to pull the blade out of her flesh. Her hands, slippery with her blood, slid off without dislodging it. She wiped her hands off on a somewhat dry spot on her dress, wrapped them around the handle once more, and gave a grueling tug. The pain was excruciating. She clenched her teeth, straining not to make a sound, unable to suppress the grunts that came unbidden from deep in her chest. Another long pull, and another, and then an agonizing yank and the blade came free. Blood came gushing out of the open wound.

  Standing unsteadily, she gathered her resolve. She would only get one chance. Oh God, what if I miss? If she failed they were all doomed. The barn spun and the floor threatened to rise up to meet her. Rebekah took a painful breath. She prayed for guidance and focused with all her will on a small spot to the left of Jakob’s spine. Ignoring her lightheadedness, she took a running dive at Jakob with the knife held out in front of her. Lacking strength, she utilized her speed and body weight and fell heavily upon his back, driving the blade home.

  Bellowing, Jakob rose from his father and struck out,
catching her in his grip. His hands constricted tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. She had known this moment was going to arrive from the moment he first raped her in the chicken coop, three years ago. He was finally going to kill her. With every ounce of tenacity she had left, she fought for her very breath. She kicked and tried to reach up to puncture his eyes, but dizziness was fast overtaking her. Everything was getting dark, blurry. Death was at hand. She closed her eyes; fuzzy thoughts trickled through her. So this is death. I am losing all sensation. Even Jakob’s grasp on her seemed like it was loosening. She inhaled sharply. Wait a minute, I am breathing. His hands are slipping.

  She opened her eyes to see shock spreading on Jakob’s face. Keening loudly, his mouth contorted. At length his squawk quieted and although his mouth still worked hopelessly, no sound came out. As his eyes began to glaze, Rebekah pushed his hands off her neck. He sank to his knees, still wearing disbelief that this was actually happening to him.

  “Go meet your Maker, asshole,” said Rebekah. He gaped at her for the briefest of moments before collapsing lifeless at her feet. His unseeing eyes were still open and his mouth was frozen in a silent scream.

  She knelt beside Ezekiel. He lay so still. Please don’t be dead, I love you too much. I can’t bear to lose another man that I love. She reached down and gingerly kissed his broken face. “I love you.” It was a painful whisper. With a pang of regret, she realized that she had not told him this nearly enough when she had the chance.

  His eyes fluttered open. “I love you, too,” he croaked.

  “Are you okay?” Her words were garbled due to a throbbing jaw.

  “Fine, fine.” He took in her wounds. “But we have to get you to a doctor.”

  “Okay.”

  Ezekiel sat up. “What about him?”