Amish Heart (Erotic Romance) (Amish Heart Trilogy)

by Miranda Rush

  I’m not made of glass, she wanted to say. I’m not a virgin anymore. She grinned. Thanks to you.

  Withdrawing fully from her wet and glistening pussy, he sunk his fingertips into the flesh of her bottom and filled her to where she felt him hit her ending point. His knees bent slightly, he rode her tight and hard, occupying her core completely. It’s never been this deep. Oh God, this is amazing!

  He dug his fingers into her deeper, cutting her skin, as he rammed his shaft in her repeatedly at an almost desperate measure of speed and force. She shrieked with each slam of their bodies together.

  “Ahhhh HAAAAA!” came her wail.

  He clipped her soundly on her ass. “Tell me you love me fucking you.”

  “AHHHHH!!!”

  He smacked her again, stinging this time. The sharpness blended exquisitely with the passion that claimed her entirely: body, mind, and soul.

  “Say it! Say, ‘I love you fucking me.’”

  “I-I-I love you f-f-f-fucking me!” She meant it as a shout, and found it was only a whimper. “Please. Please.” Finish me off. I want—no, I need—to come so badly.

  He took his cock out of her abruptly. She howled with unfulfilled desire.

  Taking her hands, he led her back to the bed.

  “Do you trust me?”

  She bobbed her head.

  “I mean, really trust me?”

  “Yes.”

  She was quivering greatly. She would have agreed to anything for release. Just take me. Make me come.

  He laid her on the bed and got between her legs. Within a second he was insinuating his way up inside her again, stroking her back and forth, in and out. He raised himself up with one arm and reached down with a hand to apply his finger to her clit, up and down, in accordance with the lunges of his cock inside her. She felt the now familiar witching inside of her, welling up sharply to take total dominance. As she gave herself over to it, Nick’s hands moved to her throat in a stranglehold, cutting off her air, while his cock continued its charge.

  She wanted to struggle against his hands, to breathe, but her orgasm overtook her furiously, flaring within her head as well as her core and clit, rocking her back and forth as Nick’s hands eased off and he held her in his arms. Oh my God, what WAS that?

  She could only blink at him.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. “I am going to come and I want to look you in the eyes when I do.” A few thrusts later, he came so strongly his eyes flew open wide, so wide for a moment he looked bug eyed. Rebekah almost laughed.

  Sometime later, their senses having returned to them, they cuddled on the bed, her head resting on his chest, their arms and legs intertwined.

  “So, what did you want to talk about?”

  “Nick, I can’t marry Ezekiel.”

  “Good. Then don’t.”

  “No. I mean I don’t want to.”

  “Excellent. Then don’t.” His big toe traced the arch of her foot.

  “I want to be with you.”

  “And I,” he said, kissing her nose, “want to be with you.”

  “I mean always. All the time.”

  “We’re in agreement.”

  “Truly?” Rebekah beamed. Could it be that he wanted to marry her?

  “Yeah. I want to be with you.” He kissed her again, slowly on the mouth. “So don’t marry Ezekiel.”

  “But I have to. I’m promised—”

  “That’s crazy—”

  “My father—”

  “So just tell your father that you can’t marry the guy, that you don’t love him. End of story.”

  Her look was skeptical. She realized that she had held some idea in her heart that Nick would ask her father for her hand, and become Amish in order to be with her. Now she held that hope in suspicion.

  “And we—”

  “We will work out a way to be together,” he promised.

  She sat and looked at him.

  “Would you . . . ever become Amish?”

  He saw the beseeching look in her eye. But he could not lie, even to save her feelings. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be Amish.”

  It took her a bit aback. You won’t become Amish for me?

  “Then how can we be together?”

  “That is something we are going to have to work out.”

  Her feminine insecurities gnawed at her.

  “But you want to. . . ?”

  “Yes, I want to work it out. We will. You’ll see.”

  “You promise?”

  He looked at her curiously. “Yeah. Why the third degree all the sudden?”

  “Third degree?”

  “All the questions.”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that I’m supposed to marry Ezek—”

  “—Who you aren’t marrying. We already established that.”

  “How do I get out of it?”

  Nick crawled over to where she sat facing him and encapsulated her in his arms. Like one would do for a frightened child.

  “Becca, talk to your father. Tell him you aren’t in love with the guy. Your father loves you. He’ll understand.”

  It was all too simplistic. Rebekah knew it would not be that uncomplicated, nor would it be that easy. Father would not understand nor tolerate her disobedience. He would never understand her falling in love with an English.

  Their two hours was up all too soon. Rebekah detested leaving the room on less than a perfect note, so she remained a few moments longer listening to Nick’s heartbeat beneath her ear. Oh God, please help this work out.

  “Tell me it will work out.”

  “It will all work out, my Becca. It will all work out.”

  Chapter 14

  “I can’t believe it.” Leah stood appalled, facing Rebekah in the store. “I can’t believe it!”

  Rebekah braced herself, sensing what was coming.

  “You had relations with him!” Leah accused. “After promising me you would be wary of him, you had relations with him!”

  Rebekah shifted her feet. She hadn’t been expecting this. She hadn’t told Leah; Leah had just known.

  “An English! He took advantage of you, Rebekah.”

  “No, Nick loves me.”

  “No, he does not love you. He cannot love you. He is not Amish. He is only English. The English aren’t like us. They don’t have hearts like we do. How can he understand you? How can he possibly love you?” She answered her own question. “No, he doesn’t love you. He is simply utilizing you for his own gratification. “

  Nick, use her? No! It was unthinkable. Nick loves me.

  “No, we’re in love!”

  “Truly?” Leah challenged. “He’s in love? Well, then. Did he ask you to marry him?”

  “Not yet,” Rebekah admitted despondently.

  “And he won’t. “ She pored over her sister’s face before throwing another volley. “Will he become Amish, then?”

  I don’t think I’m cut out to be Amish. Those had been his words. After fucking, those were his words. Was it possible that Nick didn’t love her? Was it at all possible that Leah could be right? Rebekah pressed her lips together in order to not betray herself and start crying.

  “I thought not,” Leah snapped harshly. Then, seeing the tears in her sister’s eyes, her tone turned a bit more kind.

  “He deceived you. He only took you to satisfy his manly appetites. It’s not your fault. But he can’t love you. You know that, right?”

  “No! I was certain he loved me.” Not only had their lovemaking been fiercely erotic, it had been tender as well. She could feel his love in his kisses, see it in his eyes. She had known that he loved her. Or at least . . . she thought that he had.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “He held me and kissed me and touched me and made me feel things . . .” She let her voice trail off.

  Leah patted her hand. “I’m sorry. Such a love does not exist. He used it to get you to do his bidding. He used you.” She fairly spat the last three bitter words out of her m
outh.

  In the end, all Rebekah could do was nod glumly and weep, admitting Leah was, once again, correct in her view of the world.

  Leah’s words ate at her for two days, destroying her. All during that time, she half hoped, half feared she would see Nick. By the second day, her grief had turned to anger. She saw how he had exploited her and manipulated her with flattery and words of affection. Worse still, she saw how she had been so gullibly led: she had given up her virginity to be with someone who could never understand her, who never wanted anything from her except fucking. Worst of all, she had to secretly admit to herself, she might do it all again to feel once more the way he made her feel.

  So, when Nick walked jauntily into the store two days later, she icily disregarded him and waited on customers until they were all gone, never once making eye contact or glancing in his general direction. Once alone in the store, she turned her back and squared her shoulders against him.

  “What the hell?” Taking long strides, Nick was over to where she was, and when she rebuffed him by not responding to his gentle touch on her shoulder, he took her arm and spun her around to face him.

  “What the fuck is up?”

  She gave him a venomous glare. “Why don’t you confess?”

  “Whaaa? Confess what? What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t love me! You’ve just been using me. All you wanted was fucking.”

  “What the—Wait a minute now! What has happened to you?”

  She let her voice become snide, “If you ‘loved me’ Nick, you would become Amish. If you ‘loved me,’ you’d want to marry me! If you ‘loved me’—you don’t love me. You are a liar. You can’t love me.”

  “Now wait just a damned minute! Is this because I said I didn’t want to be Amish?” Bewilderment gave way to frustration.

  She pointed to the door. “Leave. I’m marrying Ezekiel.”

  “Holy shit! Wait a minute. You can’t do that!”

  “Yes I can.”

  “You don’t love him!”

  “And why is that important?”

  “Because, dammit, you love me!” He was bellowing.

  Picking his hand off her arm and tossing it aside, she answered coldly. “I can’t love you. You’re English. I’ll always be Amish.”

  “You do love me!” There was desperation in his voice. Heartbreak. She could hear it, feel it even. But she knew that if she wavered even a bit then he would be free to employ her to his own ends again. Best thing she could do is kill her own heart. She had no other choice. Leah had been right. He didn’t ask for her hand, he had only gotten angry. He refused to become Amish and he was argumentative. He could not love her.

  With the terrible coldness of indifference she simply answered him, “Goodbye, Nicholas,” as she turned her back on him again.

  After a few moments of dead silence, she heard him leave the store, slamming the screen door loudly on his way out.

  Chapter 15

  You don’t love me. You are a liar. You can’t love me. These were the words of recrimination that she had flung at Nick. It had been over a day since she had snarled those.

  I can’t love you. The lie she had told him.

  With an anguished heart she lay on her back next to her sleeping sister and watched the moonlight dapple the curtain, rivulets of tears streaking down from her eyes and pooling in her ears.

  In wretchedness, she replayed each moment of crazed desire and each second of bliss. She remembered the emotion that had caught in Nick’s voice with his last utterance to her.

  You do love me.

  Yes, she did. Even if he did not love her she would always love him. Despite her decision to destroy her own feelings, she found that it was not possible to do so. She would always hunger for him, always imagine him touching her in the stillness of the dark, when the rest of the house was asleep.

  Plink! Plink!

  The unfamiliar noise came from the window—birds? Bats?

  Plink! Plink! Plink!

  Momentarily distracted from her own affliction, Rebekah got up and moved to the window to investigate.

  Nick was under her window, ready to hurl another pebble.

  “Shush!” She brought one finger to her lips in reproach, and then broke out in a huge silent laugh. She couldn’t help it. Seeing him again just felt so good. She held out the same finger. Just one minute. He returned her grin, blowing her a huge kiss. In her nightgown she quickly tiptoed down the stairs and outside the house where, without conscious thought, she wrapped herself around his long, strong body.

  Without a word, he took her hand and led her down the road to where his van was parked. He opened the passenger door for her and she got in. To talk, she cautioned herself, already having thrilled to the touch of his arms around her. Only to talk.

  Upon getting in the van himself, Nick swung around to face her as he did the first day he touched her hand. He studied her a long somber moment before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a small box. The full moon shone milky white upon one side of his face, leaving the rest in shadow.

  He cleared his throat. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this so forgive me if I don’t get it quite right. Our relationship has gone fast, and wonderful, and the last few weeks have been the best of my life.

  “What I’m trying to say, Becca, is that I always want to be with you. I want you with me always. I love you. You’re all I think about and I can’t imagine my life without you. So, I’m asking you to come away with me and be with me.”

  He extended the box to her. “This is for you. “

  Almost staggering in her gauze of thought, Rebekah took the box and opened it. Inside was a little gold band with carved hands holding a crowned heart.

  “It’s an Irish wedding ring. It belonged to my mother.”

  Holy Shit! Dear God, he does want to marry me.

  “Nick, I—”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Her eyes became wet again, this time with happy tears.

  “Yes!”

  He reached across to her seat to kiss her. “Great, so, what do you need to bring?”

  She frowned. “Leave now?”

  “Well, you can wait until tomorrow after you’ve told your family, of course, but—wait a minute, what’s wrong?”

  The ring—a thing she had never touched before—I would wear it?—the proposal, the thought of her leaving her family, it was overwhelming. She quaked at the idea, elated but afraid.

  “I will lose my family.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “No, I will.” To the best of her ability, she tried to describe to him what it would be like to be shunned. “. . . My family would never be able to speak or write to me again. We couldn’t even eat together.”

  “That’s crazy. Do you know how insane that all is?”

  She shrugged. “It is our way.”

  “Well, look, you don’t have to decide this very minute to go today, but think about it, please. Okay?”

  He kissed her troubled face until she was smiling again.

  “Yes.”

  She kissed him back, her lips melting against the heat of his mouth. She wanted to be close—very close—and so moved into the second seat to sit and embrace him. He trailed kisses over her face and lips and neck and his hands began to travel over her nightgown, soon finding her perfect round breasts and puckered nipples.

  A warmth began to brew in her that she knew so well, rising up out of her female parts and encompassing her thighs and belly.

  Nick let go of her for just a moment to unhook the seat back and place it flat so he could lay her down. And lay her down he did, pulling his body on top of her as he did their first time in the chicken coop. She could feel his rigid maleness rubbing her thickly through her thin cotton gown. I want it, she inwardly moaned, I want his cock inside me. But she let the moment build. She tried to imagine a life where this kind of love would be hers for the taking, where it would be a right and not wind up as some heart-
sore memory.

  He slid partly off of her to spread his hand up her nightgown to her wet, trembling parts. Oh God, I want him so badly. Taking two fingers, he enlivened her clit, up and down, finding her point and working it finely with his fingertips. It would be a provocative caress, then a maddening tickle, and then he would swoop his fingers inside her. Over and again until she was clawing at his pants, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.

  “Give it to me.”

  “Give what to you?” The tease continued, with him swatting her hands away, while still massaging her clit.

  “Your cock.”

  “Where do you want my cock?”

  He pulled her gown up further and sucked hard on a nipple while flicking her fold of silk with his fingers, back and forth, getting her to yelp.

  “Where do you want it?”

  “Inside me.”

  He laughed. “Now, that gives me three options. You better be specific.”

  “Inside my pussy!” She was panting.

  Without moving to oblige her, he asked, tweaking her nipple once again, “And what do you want my cock to do to your pussy?”

  He pulled on her clit, similarly to how she stroked his erection. On both sides, all the way up to the top, all the way down to her opening. Meeting her vagina, he licked a finger and swirled it around the bare inside of her innermost lips.

  The effect was maddening. Passion had taken proprietary rights over her and she would come unglued if he did not get inside her right this instant.

  “Fuck me,” she begged. “Just fuck me.”

  “No,” he said softly. “I am going to make love to you.”

  Pulling her nightgown completely off, and pulling down his jeans, he climbed on top of her to beleaguer her some more. He had pulled one of those plastic balloon things from his pocket and held it in his hand. Teasingly, he spread her legs and put just the very top part of the head of his erection into her receptive lower lips, and lay there, swaying his hips from side to side, vexing her with slight incendiary movement.