The Belgian Beast Read online

  “You’ve got nerves of steel Ms. Nina Sangare. You gave them to me.”

  I laughed in response to his claim. I didn’t have nerves at all. I spent much of my time over analyzing and overthinking everything. I generally scared myself out of most opportunities. Being with Marc, I’d left the house more than I’d ever done. My life generally consisted of teaching, dancing, home, and Friday’s with my family.

  With Marc, I was constantly somewhere with him. He was the extrovert to my introvert.

  Arriving at Marc’s apartment, he handed me our package of fries while he opened the doors and we took the elevator to the top floor of the four-story building. We headed directly to the living room table where Marc preferred to eat most meals.

  I settled down on the black leather couch, took off my shoes before sitting cross legged as I waited for Marc who reappeared a moment later in his usual gray sweatpants hanging low around his waist, without a shirt. I swallowed as my eyes roamed over his robust arms, and intricate tattoos over his muscular chest. He stood for a moment handsome, hypnotic, powerful, and I knew he knew it. I allowed my eyes to follow the V of his lower stomach into his pants where the outline of his dick was clearly defined.

  “Ready to eat?” Marc plopped down next to me. I got a whiff of his scent and I stopped breathing for a moment. Marc kept me on edge every moment I was with him and I didn’t even think he was trying. It was all his natural allure I was drawn to.

  “Mmmhmm,” I answered innocently as I tried to force my mind away from what was waiting for me in his pants when I decided I was ready, and something tingling inside whispered that I was ready.

  I leaned over to Marc with my heart pounding out of my chest and pressed my hips to his, hard. Naturally as our kiss intensified, and with my agile flexibility, I slipped my body over his straddling him with the intense need of feeling his hard body against mine.

  Having no experience in initiating anything intimate wasn’t even apparent as it all felt incredibly natural. Wanting every part of him didn’t feel abominable or sinful. Nothing besides dance had ever felt so strangely right.

  Allowing my hips to roll over his, the tips of his fingers roamed under the back of my shirt while my hands settled on his warm chest.

  I pulled away to catch my breath, disappointed in breaking our moment I glanced down into Marc's iced blazing eyes.

  "It's only what you want. What do you want ma petite danseuse?" Marc removed one of his hands from my hips and cupped my face.

  "Je te veux."

  Marc didn’t need any more words before he gripped me tightly, crushed his mouth to mine, and stood.

  My legs wrapped tightly around his body as his cock pressed into my awaiting center. I ground my hips onto him as he briskly moved us from the living room, and down a short hall. A dim light flipped on, and I broke away to find us in a large bedroom. It wasn’t the small musty bedroom I’d expected but a sophisticated bachelor space. The walls were all a dark shade of crimson, the bed had a black leather headboard, and a dark gray duvet with pillows. Over the headboard, a Belgian flag was framed.

  Gently, Marc laid me on the bed and his fingers got started unbuttoning my jeans before he stripped them easily down my legs, and his hands settled on my thighs. His eyes pierced me intensely and with a devotion I’d never seen in the eyes of anyone else. It was me he wanted, and I found it difficult to grasp why.

  “You know,” he began. “You’re perfect to me.”

  I didn’t know what to say in response. I didn’t see myself as perfect to anyone, not even my own family.

  Marc quickly stripped me from my panties before taking my hands and pulling me into a seated position. I acted before he could and pulled my shirt over my head, exposing my bare breasts to him. My nipples perked at the cold air and Marc grinned down at my naked body.

  “Give me one second, ma petite danseuse,” he disappeared out a door. I saw a light flip on for a moment before hearing what sounded like cabinets before he returned with a small package in his hand, a condom.

  At the sight of the condom, it struck me that this was real. I was giving myself to him in a way I’d never done before. Sex with my ex-husband was never romantic and more done out of duty. I hated it and for the first time it was something I wanted to give and enjoy as I’d heard it was meant to be.

  Marc set the condom on the bed next to me before his hands settled back on my thighs caressing them as his hands slid down my knees before spreading my legs. I couldn’t help but moan in pure anticipation as Marc’s hands found themselves on the band of his sweatpants. He began to drag them down at a lazy pace, my eyes following from his stomach and down into the dark hairs that began to appear.

  My eyes gawked as his dick came into view. It was as girthy as I’d imagined with his bulging body. My inexperience made me feel inadequate, but my raging hormones couldn’t care less. My body needed his.

  Marc stood before me, his hand stroking his erection as his eyes met mine.

  “You want this. Tell me how bad,” Marc demanded in a gruff voice that sent a shiver down my spine through my core.

  This was nothing like the sex I’d experienced before, and it was already so much more exciting and inclusive. Marc wanted my input. I had a voice in this.

  “Are you going to tell me?” He took a step closer to the bed.

  My legs twisted together, and I bit down on my bottom lip.

  “Fuck. You look so fucking sexy like that. Please tell me, baby.”

  He stepped closer and settled his hands on my knees before spreading my legs apart. I swallowed hard before a bravery I only felt when going on stage took over.

  “Marc, I want it,” I panted desperately to his satisfied smile.

  He bent to me, his lips placing a kiss on my belly button.

  I giggled as his ticklish kisses rained over my flat stomach, but my giggles quickly turned to moans as his kisses got lower and lower before his tongue slipped up my awaiting slit, and his fingers spread me open.

  Every single sensation going through me was brand new. I’d never had a man’s mouth down on me and the electricity zinging through me made me feel faint. My hands found his bald head and hung on as his tongue lapped over my overly sensitive clit.

  I cried out into his bedroom, my hips riding into his mouth and fingers that had buried themselves inside me, pumping in and out.

  “Marc,” I gasped as my first non-self-given orgasm rolled through my core and I shook under him.

  Marc arose with a satisfied smile on his lips. My chest heaved as I watched him deliriously. I didn’t know what had come over me, but I desperately needed more.

  “You taste so good,” Marc mumbled as he licked his lips.

  “I guess that’s a good thing,” I shyly reckoned.

  Marc chuckled as he climbed onto the bed and settled between my open legs. He bent to me and kissed me gently at first, but it quickly intensified as his tongue teased my lips into parting. With my fingernails digging into his shoulders, I held onto him as he hiked up my leg and gripped my backside.

  Breaking our kiss, he nibbled my bottom lip.

  “I need to be inside you so fucking bad,” he declared in his gruff voice as his lips brushed over mine.

  “Please,” I begged. “I’m ready, Marc. I want your Belgian Beast.”

  “Fuck, I like that. My Belgian Beast,” Marc kissed me once more before he lifted up and sat back on his knees. He grabbed the condom off the bed and ripped the package open.

  I watched his every move as he took the condom from its foil packaging and began to work it onto his dick. I watched, amazed at how the rubber stretched to meet his generous size.

  Once finished, Marc gave me a grin before pulling his body back over mine. Anxiously, I swallowed again. I’d only ever been with one man before and this was so incredibly new to me. I didn’t quite know what to expect, but I didn’t want to back out now.

  “Marc,” I breathed as his eyes met mine.

  “Oui, ma petit
e danseuse,” he murmured before kissing my forehead gently which already set me at ease a great deal.

  “Be gentle, it has been a long time since my last.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

  I smiled up at him before his lips found mine again.

  Marc positioned himself at my entrance and I held my breath until his thumb pressed to my clit. A jolt rushed up my core, relaxing me as he began to penetrate me slowly and with care. I gasped as I began to stretch to his size but froze once the jingle of my phone cut through our silence. I would have ignored the call completely but that specific joyful tone was reserved for when my mother called.

  “I have to answer,” I told Marc in an instant panic. It was late and my mother only called late if there was an emergency.

  Marc quickly pulled out and off me. I already missed the feel of him but there was no time to think about it as I jumped from his bed and found my discarded jeans. Reaching into my pocket, I found my phone. My mother’s photo was staring up at me and I swiped with a jittering finger.

  “Maman, what’s wrong?” I answered in a panic.

  “It’s me,” my brother’s voice said from the other end. “Mom is too upset to talk. Dad had a heart attack. We just got to the hospital and he’s been rushed back.”

  “I’m coming,” I cried with hot tears instantly streaming down my cheeks.

  Ending the call, I turned to Marc who watched me with deep concern. I could barely speak as I was shaking intensely and tried to find the rest of my clothes.

  “Nina, Nina, what’s wrong?” Marc placed his hands on my shoulders and pulled me to him.

  I sobbed against his chest. I was scared my dad could die and worried for my mom at the same time. They were one another’s backbone in everything.

  “Mon père,” I sobbed.

  “What’s happened, love?”

  “He’s had a heart attack. I have to go. I have to go to the hospital. I have to go,” I panicked once again as I ripped myself away from him to find my things.

  “Stop, I’ve got you,” Marc demanded as he pulled me to standing and then sat me on the bed. I watched him pick up my things from the floor and handed them to me easily, one by one.

  “Merci, merci,” I sniffed as I tried to control my hysterical tears.

  “We’ll get dressed and I’ll take you to the hospital, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  My heart pounded out of my chest as Marc’s motorcycle pulled up to the front doors of the hospital. Tears pricked my eyes once more as I stared at the automatic doors entering the small Catholic hospital in Halle.

  I swung my leg over the bike and got off. Standing steady, I took my helmet off as Marc removed his own. He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close for a moment.

  “It’s going to be okay,” he reminded me sweetly before giving me a chaste kiss.

  I nodded before once again peering over to the doors, afraid of what I’d learn when I went inside.

  Marc began to dismount the bike as well, but I stopped him with my hand on his chest.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Not now,” I said, my voice soft as he cupped my cheek.

  “Okay. If you need anything, call me. I’m here in a moment,” he told me before kissing me again in an attempt to set me at ease.

  I nodded as I handed him my helmet and slipped from his arms.

  “Merci,” I gave him a wave before turning toward the hospital and taking a deep breath.

  Something about me felt dirty. Maybe it was my fault and I was being punished by Allah for giving my body so easily to this man. Marc to me wasn’t just any man, I cared for him so deeply that it scared me. Yet, I was conflicted.

  “You’ve always been a dirty whore,” my ex-husband’s voice pierced through my brain the moment I stepped into the hospital. “You deserve any punishment you get.”

  A tear escaped and trickled down my cheek as I turned into the emergency room waiting area where I saw my mother with her head on my brother’s shoulder. She gasped at the sight of me and I sprinted toward them. We all hugged tightly and cried without words.

  “Dirty whore.”

  I tried to swallow my shame, but it covered me from head to toe.

  * * *

  My phone buzzed in my pocket again. I pulled it out to see his name again, and again I ignored the call and put my phone right back in my pocket as I sat on the hard plastic chair of my dad’s hospital room. I glanced over to Dad who was fast asleep and hooked up to so many machines it was insanity.

  “He’s worried about you. Maybe you should answer one of his calls,” Ayo leaned over to me.

  Ayo had been my constant companion at the hospital the last few days as we all took turns staying with Dad who’d had a triple bypass surgery after the major heart attack which nearly killed him.

  “No, I can’t,” I insisted as I never allowed my eyes to leave Dad, who breathed slowly.

  “Why? He just wants to make sure you’re okay. It’s not that hard to answer your boyfriend’s call. He cares about you and I know you care about him. Hell, I think you love him,” Ayo reasoned to me shaking my head.

  “Stop. I don’t love him,” asserted as I turned to my cousin, my eyes blazing. “I need to let it go. This is all my fault.” I nodded over to my dad.

  “That your dad has a heart attack?” Ayo questioned. “That’s not your fault, that’s nature. That’s your dad being allergic to exercise and constantly eating greasy foods. You’ve got nothing to do with that.”

  “Marc and I were having sex,” I whispered as if dad was listening in. “I’m being punished. I know I am.”

  Ayo shook his head and took my hand into his and squeezed it tight.

  “Listen to me, you aren’t being punished for being in love or even having sex. Believe me, if it were the case, I’d be burning in the flames right this moment. Stop sabotaging what you have going for you. Your life is good right now,” Ayo reasoned as he normally did. He was constantly the voice of reason when it came to everything going on in my head. “And I think Marc loves you too.”

  My heart skipped beats and my butterflies danced, but I was still afraid. My family would judge me, and I didn’t know if I could come back again. I glanced at Dad. He put so much faith in me and I never wanted to let him down. My divorce was a blow to him, and I felt ashamed every single time I was around him because of it. The day I got married was such a proud day for him and then I ended it. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever be that proud of me for something I truly wanted.

  I knew I had to let this idea of being the perfect daughter go, but with my perfectionist ways, it was harder than it should be. I could give all those ideas away for Marc’s love, but I could lose my family in the process.

  Chapter Nine

  Marc

  As the sliding doors of the hospital opened, I stepped through and glanced around, not sure where to go. It’d been days since I’d spoken to Nina who continued to ignore my calls. Luckily, Ayo and Emmy had struck up a friendship and I learned from her Nina was practically living at the hospital.

  Stepping to an information desk, I knew the only way to find Nina was to find her dad. Hell, if I had to stalk every floor of the hospital, I would.

  “Hallo, can I help you?” The older woman at the counter asked me in Dutch.

  “Ja,” I answered. “I need the room of Mohamed Sangare?”

  The woman typed into her computer and clicked around before she nodded and wrote something down on a Post-It note before handing it to me.

  I read the number written on the paper, 417.

  “Dank u wel,” I thanked her before I jogged off to the closest elevator anxious to see Nina after so long.

  Our night together was so easy. The feel of her bare body under mine was something I could never forget. That connection forged through our intimate contact was so fucking intense it took everything in me to force myself to allow her to walk away even if she had to. Since
then, she wasn’t returning my calls.

  I took the elevator to the fourth floor and glanced around to find the room. Counting down, I reached room four-hundred seventeen. I saw her sitting on a chair with Ayo by her side and two other women in the room. One of them I could tell right away was her mother whom Nina favored.

  For the first time, I was fucking nervous. I wasn’t one to get nervous, but my hands were sweating, and my heart was palpitating quickly.

  Nina’s mother held a cup and leaned over the hospital bed where a large frail man drank from it through a straw.

  With a deep breath, I knocked on the frame of the door. Nina’s head shot up and her eyes widened at the sight of me. I gave her a soft smile and a wave, but Nina didn’t return the same gesture. Her eyes looked panicked as she jumped to her feet and rushed in my direction.

  Arriving to me, she shut the door behind her and pulled me up the hall toward the lobby of the floor. Once far enough away from the room she turned toward me with ferocity burning in her eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” She snapped anxiously as she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t followed.

  “I came to check on you. You haven’t been answering my calls or text messages. I was worried, baby,” I took her hand into mine and caressed the back with my thumb.

  “You can’t be here,” she shot as she snatched her hand from mine. “Please leave.”

  “Why?” I asked realizing how she kept looking around to see if anyone was watching us. It hit me. She didn’t want her family knowing about me at all. I was a secret. “You don’t want your family to know you’re seeing someone? But it’s not just that, right?” I saw her eyes shift and I connected the dots. “You don’t want them to know you’re with a white man? Is that right?”

  “That’s not it,” she insisted but I knew that wasn’t true at all. Nina was hiding our relationship there was no doubt about that, but she lied to me.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me,” I hissed angrily. Lying was one of those things I hated with everything in me and I despised it. Being honest and truthful was one of those virtues I held close. “Tell me, Nina, are you hiding us from your family?”