Forbidden- Our Secret Love

by Elise Quinn Larson

  Ben took me out for dinner and drinks that night before he brought me to his apartment for more sex. I’d been at my parents’ home in Boise for over a month—which Ben was not happy about—so he was making up for lost time. By midnight, I was sexually replete and exhausted and just wanted to go back to my apartment for some uninterrupted sleep. I had a nine o’clock class the next morning.

  But when I started to get out of bed, Ben pulled me back down. “Stay all night,” he said. “We’re not done yet.”

  “Maybe you’re not done, but I am. I need sleep, a shower and some clean clothes. I can’t go to class in those clothes on the floor.”

  “Skip class. It’s no big deal.”

  “No. I’m going home, and I’m going to class.”

  He grabbed my arm and held it tightly. “You’ve been gone for more than a month. I think I deserve one whole night with you.” His other hand found my breasts and squeezed them. Hard. He was angry.

  “Let go of me, Ben. I want to leave.”

  “Make me. Make me let go of you.”

  “I can’t. Just let me go. Take me home.” His apartment was three miles from mine, a long walk in the middle of the night if he refused to drive me.

  “So walk. Or better yet, call your cousin. I’m sure he’ll be happy to pick you up. Good old Trey Larson to the rescue.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you starting a fight?”

  “A fight? You call this a fight, Elise?”

  “It feels like one. You’re hurting me. Stop it!”

  He released his grip on me and sighed through his teeth, falling into his martyr role. “Shit! I stayed celibate for weeks, jacking off when I had to, and this is the thanks I get? A few hours in the sack and you’re done?”

  I pulled on my clothes and started to leave, determined to walk all the way if I had to. I wasn’t about to involve Trey in this.

  He groaned and rolled out of bed. “All right. I’ll take you home. Then I’ll find some hot little chick who’ll be happy to spend the night with me. I’ll teach her some things I’ve never taught you, and she won’t ever want to leave my bed.”

  “Fine, Ben. You do that. I don’t care what you do.”

  He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You will care, Elise. You will care.”

  He took me home.

  I was out of the shower and just starting to get dressed the next morning when Ben walked into my bedroom. He saw the ugly bruises his big hands had made on my arm and breasts and was instantly contrite.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  He came to me and gently kissed the purple marks on my arm and breasts while he murmured endearments and asked to be forgiven. “Please, Elise,” he said, placing his face between my breasts. “Please say you forgive me.”

  I kissed the top of his head. “Yes, Ben. I forgive you.”

  He rose to his full height and looked down at me. “It’s just that you made me so angry,” he explained, dropping into his victim role and starting to place the blame on me. “I waited weeks for some love, and then you decided to leave in the middle of the night. How did you expect me to feel?”

  I sighed. “Let’s not start this again, okay? You apologized, you’re forgiven, and it’s over. I need to get dressed and go to class. What’s your schedule like today?”

  He shrugged. “Class at ten, class at two, football practice from four to who-knows-when. Big home game on Saturday, so we’ll be at it pretty hard all week.”

  “Then I won’t see you much, except for the two classes we have together?”

  “I’ll drop by when I can, probably for dinner and dessert.” He grinned. Dessert was one of his nicer euphemisms for sex.

  “Okay. Call me if you can’t come.”

  He laughed. “I can always come, Elise. You should know that by now.” He slammed the door when he left.

  Chapter 3

  T he weeks passed quickly that fall. I was swept up in the mental demands of my senior year coursework and the physical and emotional demands of my relationship with Ben.

  Football season kept him busy and gave me some breathing space, and when he came around after practice he was usually good to me. Except for a few incidents when I made him angry for some reason, for the most part he kept his promise not to hurt me again.

  We had two pre-law classes together. Ben planned to be an attorney like his father and grandfather, who owned a very successful law firm in Portland: MacAllister & MacAllister. (I wondered if they’d add a third MacAllister to the name when Ben joined—seemed rather repetitive to me.) Ben joked that I should join the firm so it could be called MacAllister & Larson. I knew he wasn’t serious. The firm had at least twenty associates and certainly didn’t need me.

  I loved to watch Ben in class, arguing and supporting his theories with indisputable logic and facts. He shamelessly challenged fellow students and professors until he was proven right. He would be a formidable attorney. I was in awe of his brilliance.

  Trey was the other brilliant man in my life at the university, but I scarcely saw him that fall. I knew he was very busy with his Ph.D. program and his running. He also had a girlfriend, Kelly Schuller, a track star who was working on her doctorate in biophysics. They’d been together for a couple of years but weren’t living together as far as I knew.

  Ben discouraged my association with Trey. Truth be told, Ben disapproved of my association with other men in general, but he especially disliked my cousin. They’d had several run-ins as athletes on the university’s track and field team, once almost coming to blows when Trey called Ben a poor sport and a bully. This was before Ben met me, but he never forgot an insult. Trey stayed away from Ben and me to avoid trouble and I understood that, but I missed his company.

  So I was delighted when I spotted Trey in a study cubicle on the fourth floor of Knight Library toward the end of finals week in December. He was in total concentration as I quietly approached him from behind.

  “Hi,” I said, startling him.

  He turned and smiled. “Elise. You surprised me.”

  I pulled up a chair. “I know.”

  He looked around. “Where’s your keeper?”

  “My keeper?”

  “You know. Ben. He never lets you out of his sight.”

  “He does these days. With finals and the football team’s preparations for the Fiesta Bowl, he’s very busy.”

  “That’s good. Gives you a chance to escape now and then.”

  “I’m not his prisoner, Trey.”

  “Aren’t you? It sure seems that way to me. So, since you’re temporarily free and it’s almost dinnertime, let’s head over to the student union and grab something to eat. How about it?”

  “But Ben . . .”

  “What about Ben?”

  “He’s expecting to have dinner with me tonight.”

  “So he’ll have to eat alone for a change. He’s a big boy. Let him take care of himself. Come on, Elise. Come with me. We haven’t talked in weeks.”

  I gave in. We walked over to Erb Memorial Union and ordered pizza and beer at Falling Sky Pizzeria. Since we were driving back to Ontario together at the end of finals week, we talked about our plans for Christmas break. We were both looking forward to spending time with our family. Christmas was a very big celebration in my grandma’s Swedish household, and everyone would be there, including Quinn.

  The pizza and beer were tasty, and I started to relax a bit in Trey’s company. I suddenly realized that I was never truly relaxed anymore; I was always walking on eggshells, afraid of saying or doing something that might upset Ben.

  Trey watched me while we ate. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Sure. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “You seem thinner. And different, somehow.”

  I didn’t respond, but he wouldn’t let it drop. “Is Ben good to you?”

  “Sure. He’s been good lately.”


  “Lately?”

  “Trey, can we just not talk about Ben? I know you don’t like him, and I’m sorry about that. But I don’t want to discuss my boyfriend with you. It’s too personal.”

  “You used to discuss anything with me.”

  “I know. But that was before Ben. Please, just drop it.”

  “Okay, Elise. But if he stops being good to you . . . if he ever hurts you . . . will you tell me?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I will.”

  “Good. Have another slice of pizza. I want to see you eat.”

  So I did. It was delicious. So was the beer. We each had another one.

  I was feeling good as I walked to my apartment after dinner. Spending time with Trey had lifted my spirits. Since it was only six o’clock and Ben didn’t usually show up until seven, I still had time to fix him something to eat before he arrived.

  My good feelings vanished when I walked in and saw him sitting at the kitchen table, drinking beer and waiting for food that wasn’t there. Waiting for me. Ben did not like to wait.

  “Where have you been, Elise?”

  “At the library, studying for my last exam.”

  “That’s all?”

  I evaded the question. “I wasn’t expecting you until seven.”

  He shrugged. “Our practice ended early, so I came straight here. To nothing.”

  “I’m sorry. You should’ve called me. Anyway, I’ll fix a quick dinner and we can . . .”

  He beckoned with an index finger. “Come here. Sit on my lap. I need a kiss from you.”

  I dropped my backpack on the floor and walked over to him, feeling apprehensive. He was in one of his moods.

  “Sit.”

  I sat on his lap, but when he bent to kiss me, he smelled the beer on my breath. I froze as realization hit me.

  He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “What the hell? Do they serve beer in the library now?”

  “No, of course not. I got hungry, so I went to the student union for some pizza and beer. That’s all.”

  “Who were you with?”

  “Ben, please. Don’t be angry.”

  He stood up so suddenly that I nearly fell to the floor. His fist hit the table. “Who were you with? What’s his name?”

  “Trey,” I replied, steadying myself against the table. “I saw him at the library and he asked me to have pizza with him. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. It was not a date. He’s my cousin!”

  “So while I was busting my ass at practice, and sitting here hungry, you and your cousin were eating pizza and drinking beer and talking about me, I suppose.”

  “No. We didn’t discuss you.”

  “Right. You expect me to believe that? Trey Larson hates my guts, and you know why? Because he’s jealous. Because he wants you for himself. He wants to fuck his own cousin!”

  “That’s not true! You’re wrong.”

  He came up to me and grabbed my chin. “Am I? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s craving what you’ve got, baby. But that’s too damn bad, because no one—no one!—gets to have you but me. So Trey Larson can fuck himself while he thinks about me fucking you. Like right now.”

  He dragged me down the hall to my bedroom, where he slammed and locked the door.

  “Strip,” he ordered.

  “Ben . . . no!”

  “Strip, or I’ll tear those clothes to shreds.”

  Shaking my head, I moved toward the door, but he spun me around and threw me on the bed, where my clothes were no protection from his strength and fury. He ripped my shirt and bra apart and yanked my jeans and panties off. I’d never seen Ben like this before. Not like this.

  “Ben!” I screamed. “No!”

  Unzipping his jeans to free his engorged penis, he fell on top of me, crushing me with the full weight of his body as he invaded my mouth with his tongue and bit my lips with his teeth. He forced my arms above my head while his teeth scraped a path to my nipples, biting them hard enough to draw blood. I screamed again.

  “Shut up or I’ll bite them off,” he growled. “I swear I’ll bite them off.”

  I bit my lower lip to keep from screaming as he kept my arms pinned with one hand and penetrated my vagina with his other hand, stabbing with his fingers as deep and as hard as he could.

  “Get wet for me, Elise. You’re dry as an old nun down here. C’mon, baby. You know you want this. You always want this. Give me some cream.”

  I shook my head, struggling futilely to free my body from his vicious assault. “No. Not like this. I don’t want it like this, Ben. Stop!”

  “Fuck it!” He spread my knees apart and thrust into me—hard, deep, painful thrusts—over and over while I choked back my screams and my tears. And when he finally shuddered and groaned and came, collapsing on top of me in a sweaty heap, I let my tears fall.

  He slowly rolled off me but kept one big arm across my chest while his breathing returned to normal. I refused to look at him as I wiped the tears from my face. So this is what rape feels like, I thought. I’m lying next to a rapist.

  “Look at me, Elise,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Look at me, dammit!”

  “No. You disgust me. What you did was disgusting.”

  “I fucked you. I’ve fucked you hundreds of times. You’ve never been disgusted before.”

  I looked at him in astonishment. “You raped me, Ben! If you don’t know the difference between fucking and rape, you’re sick. You forced me to have sex with you!”

  “So I got a bit rough. You’ve like it rough before.”

  “Not like that. Never like that.”

  He grabbed my arm. “What are you going to do? Report me? Tell the cops I raped you?” He laughed. “They’ll never believe you, baby. Half the campus knows I’ve been screwing you for a year. I’ve told my teammates what a hot little piece you are—dirty locker room talk. And if you tell your precious cousin Trey, I’ll tell him what a slut you really are. I’ll tell him all the things we’ve done. He’ll never look at you again after that.”

  “Get out.”

  “What?”

  “Get dressed and get out. I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to hear you, and I’ll never let you touch me again. Leave your key on the kitchen table and get out. Now.”

  He snorted in derision. “I’m not some pussy-whipped pantywaist that you can order around. I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave. Besides, this whole thing was your fault. If you’d been here and fixed dinner like you said, instead of drinking beer with your damn cousin, we could’ve had a good time tonight. But you had to go and make me angry.”

  “Get out. Now. Or I will call the police. I mean it, Ben.”

  “Shit. There’s no talking sense to you. What the hell.” He rolled off the bed, zipped his jeans up and unlocked the bedroom door. “I think I’ll go and find me a woman who appreciates what I’ve got. But I’m keeping my key, Elise. I’m not through with you yet.”

  I held my breath until the front door slammed behind him.

  Chapter 4

  I lay there for a while after Ben left, trying to decide what to do and thinking about how I got into this mess to begin with. Since that first day in class a year ago, Ben was an irresistible force: big, handsome, amusing, brilliant and bold, with a sexual magnetism that drew me right to him. He somehow sensed my response and we connected.

  It was wonderful at first. He was fun, exciting, generous, and the sex! We devoured each other, doing things I’d never even dreamed of. I was insatiable with him, and he was perfectly happy to meet my needs.

  Then things started to change. Not the sex—that was still good. But Ben became possessive, wanting to know where I was, what I was doing, who I was with. He was jealous if another man looked at me or talked to me or—heaven forbid!—spent time with me, like my cousin Trey. That’s why he resented my trips home to Ontario and Boise, because he knew Trey would be there.

  A few months into our relationship, Ben started to show spurts of an
ger whenever I displeased him in some way. He inevitably blamed me for his anger: I was late, or forgot to tell him where I was going, or talked to some guy after class, or anything, really. So he accused me and stormed around until he ran out of steam. Then we made up with sex and he was happy again—until my next infraction.

  We were six months into our relationship when the physical stuff began. Nothing major at first: just some slaps or bites or hard squeezes or spankings where the bruises wouldn’t show. He liked to call it “rough sex,” but I knew he was punishing me. He usually apologized afterwards and often brought me a little gift the next day, full of smiles and a promise to never hurt me again.

  Fool that I was, I forgave him each time, hoping he’d keep his promise and we could go back to the way he was in the beginning—fun and exciting and loving. At some level I must have known better, but I was addicted to the way he made me feel when things were good. So I molded myself into what he wanted: an obedient, accommodating, fearful woman.

  As I lay in the bed where he’d raped me, I decided to reclaim the strength and the self-respect I’d somehow lost during the past year. But I knew I couldn’t do it alone. In truth, I was afraid of Ben.

  So I did what Ben warned me not to do. I called Trey and told him I needed his help. He asked no questions—just said he’d be right over. I got dressed and ten minutes later I was in his arms, needing to be held by someone who loved me. I wasn’t crying, but he looked at my face and knew something was very wrong.

  “Tell me,” he said. “Just tell me.”

  I told him the story—not all of it but enough—before I broke down in tears. He held me against his chest, rubbing my back and making soothing sounds until I finally quieted. Then he reached for his cell phone.

  “I’m calling the police,” he said. “You’ve got to report this.”

  “No!” I protested. “Absolutely not!”

  Trey looked at me in disbelief. “Elise, he raped you! You need to report this now, and have a rape kit exam for physical evidence. With no forensic evidence, it will be just your word against his.”