The Belgian Beast

by Keyes, Janae

  “Thanks. I really need you to take this seriously and get yourself straight, for you, for Mom, and most importantly your kids,” I made clear. Najah and Kamil needed their mother around. They needed both their parents around, but Sophie had to get herself together for that.

  “I will. I know I need to get better,” she told me.

  “Good, now get some sleep, tomorrow starts your new life.”

  I waited until she was snoring, and I left her alone in her room. Beginning in the hall, I began to pick up toys and other objects on the floor until I arrived in the living room. Sophie would wake up to a clean apartment that was ready for healing. I only had one arm to work with, but I’d use it well and spend all night if I had to.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nina

  Marc’s deep laughter filled the bedroom as we laid together. His hand over my bump and rubbing as kicks returned at his touch. Since our baby started kicking, this was how we spent most evenings in bed, with Marc loving the connection he was already building with the life inside me.

  “Hey little fella,” Marc chuckled at the latest kick to his hand. I shook my head and gave a mock pout in his direction.

  “What if its not a boy. Could be a girl. There is a fifty-fifty chance,” I reminded him as I tended to do whenever Marc tried to stake his claim that our baby was a boy. I really didn’t care what we had. I just wanted a healthy, happy baby in the end. It sounded so cliché but after losing a baby once, I just wanted to have a perfectly happy baby to mother.

  “I’m sorry. Garçon ou fille, I’m happy. You know that.” Marc rubbed my arm with is rough hand. My hairs stood on end and I shivered at his touch.

  Marc leaned in and planted a kiss on my shoulder. Then another as he moved toward my neck. As gentle kisses rained over my skin, my breathing became deep and uneven before he planted a final kiss on my ear as his hand traveled over my bare thigh and under my night gown that was becoming shorter as my belly grew.

  With fingers between my thickening thighs, Marc easily slipped his hand under the fabric of my panties and between my folds.

  “Fuck, I love how wet you get,” he growled in my ear as he began to stroke over my overly sensitive clit. I gasped sharply before a moan took over and my body shook under his touch.

  Pregnancy had intensified everything and threw my sex drive into overdrive. Marc could barely touch me, and I was easily lusting and ready to rip my clothes off. It also didn’t help that he’d discovered the magic of wearing sweatpants around me, which I felt like he was doing more often.

  “Oh. My. God,” I panted as he drove me toward an orgasm easily as my body naturally rocked into his hand. “Keep going,” I begged as my fingers gripped onto his shirt so hard my knuckles were turning white.

  “Let it go, baby,” Marc murmured to me as I started to orgasm. I tremored as my hormones flung me through euphoria at only this man’s delicious touch.

  As I came down, Marc removed his hand and held it up. It glistened with my release. I shyly looked down. I was still learning to enjoy sex without shame. It wasn’t shameful, but oddly beautiful.

  “Looks like you made a mess,” Marc observed before bringing his hand to his mouth and licking his fingers. I could have come again at the sight of him licking my juices. “C’est bonne.”

  “Fuck me,” I gasped as I tried to control myself. I needed him more and the buzzing that filled my body from between my legs wouldn’t stop without having him.

  Marc laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” I grunted in frustration.

  “It’s funny seeing you, this pure woman, demanding to be fucked like some crazed animal,” he chuckled.

  “I am a crazed animal thanks to pregnancy. Please, Marc. I need you,” I whined before I slipped my hand in my panties. “Or I’ll take care of it myself.”

  Marc snatched my hand out of my underwear and held it with the other over my head, his body now on top of mine pinning me down, but not hard enough to hurt me or the baby.

  “No, you won’t,” he growled. “My Belgian Beast is going to take care of that.” Easily, he slid his sweatpants lower, exposing the curly hairs at the end of his V that lay just above the main event. I groaned as he stopped before showing me what I wanted. He chuckled lightly before bending and kissing my lips. “I’m going to get off you. I need you to take off your gown and panties and get on your knees. Okay?”

  I nodded eagerly and bit down on my bottom lip.

  The moment Marc allowed me free, I sat up, and pulled my gown over my head exposing my naked torso with my nipples pointed and hard. I next worked on my panties and pulled them down my legs before I tossed them in Marc’s direction. He easily caught them and pressed them to his face.

  “Mmm,” he murmured before tossing them to the side and ripping his sweatpants down all the way. I gaped at him as I did every single time. He was hard to not gape at with his muscular body, and rock-hard dick that bounced ready to be inside me. He gave me a stern look as he motioned for me to follow his final instruction and turn over.

  Doing as I’d been told, I got on my hands and knees. I could feel Marc join me on the bed with the movement of the mattress. He came up behind me, his hands settling on my ass that he apparently couldn’t get enough of. Sensing the vixen inside, I wiggled my ass a little before he landed a smack over my skin.

  “You’re being a little tease this evening, aren’t you?” his deep voice questioned from behind me.

  “Maybe,” I coyly answered before gasping at his hands gripping my sides and his dick pressing into me quicker than I’d anticipated. “Marc,” I moaned as our bodies began slapping together.

  Marc rode into me, deeper and harder with each thrust. I cried out at the feel of him filling me. Our connection was so strong that it alone rocked me to my core. I tried to control my breathing, but it was impossible as Marc looped a hand around and began to stroke my clit.

  Easily, I came again. I was barely able to breath as his own grunts and growls filled the air, and his deep hard thrusts became shorter as he spilled into me.

  As Marc came out of me, I found myself laying on my back working to catch my breath. Marc wrapped his arms around me and pulled the blanket over our sweaty bodies. I snuggled in deep as I began to trace one of his tattoos with the tip of my finger.

  “I discover a new detail every single time,” I mentioned as I paused over the delicately etched ink on his skin.

  “Same,” Marc murmured into my hair. “I didn’t know you liked to get spanked. I’ll have to remember that.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I slapped his chest with my hand. As much as I loved having sex, talking about it was still embarrassing.

  “My sweet innocent one,” Marc commented with a hint of irony. “The mother of my child. I can’t wait to find out what we’re having. My little one.” He ran a hand over my belly and of course our baby was once again kicking up a storm.

  “We need to think of names. I want something different but traditional, at least one of his or her names has to be a good Muslim name,” I mentioned. It was something important to me. My faith meant a lot to myself and my family.

  “Are we raising our child Muslim?” Marc slightly sat up and looked at me. Sometimes I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and it was hard to know if his look was good or bad.

  “I’d like to. It means a lot to me to have my child grow with faith,” I insisted as I also sat up.

  “Nina, I don’t know about that. I’d like our baby to know about your faith and my sad lack of but I don’t know if we should raise him or her to have a specific faith,” Marc argued as he was not sitting straight up and arguing his case to me.

  I frowned. My entire life, my faith in Islam had been a cornerstone for my family. I couldn’t imagine my life without. Yes, I didn’t always agree and didn’t always followed bit it still had a place in my heart.

  “Please, this is one thing that means so much to me.”

  “But why? What’s so important about it
that it is a must? I don’t want our child to be outcasted, treated differently, or excluded based on the fact that they have a specific faith. You know, first-hand, that Belgium isn’t exactly welcoming recently.” Marc made a point, but it infuriated me. My baby shouldn’t have to live in a world that didn’t treat them the same as others just because they were a follower of Islam and I hated that Marc made the case against using that example.

  I gave a frustrated grunt and swung the blanket off me. I stormed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I had to calm myself down. Marc had struck something in me. I stepped into the water the moment it warmed and allowed it to trickle over my skin.

  Closing my eyes, I breathed steadily in and out before a hand rested on my shoulder and I jumped at Marc who had joined me. He pulled me in close and settled his head on my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, love. I am. I know it’s important to you, but I really don’t want to make those decisions for our baby. I don’t feel like it is our place. Look at our situation, you’re forced into hiding us and our baby because of your faith and your family’s dedication to it. I’d be afraid of our child facing those same consequences for going off the chosen path. Maybe we could agree to let him or her pick that path. We can introduce it but not make it law,” Marc reasoned to me.

  I turned to him and nodded as I placed my arms around his neck.

  “I can agree to that,” I said softly. It wasn’t a difficult decision. Our child would participate in family events and learn about the faith, but we wouldn’t force it. I didn’t want my child like me, afraid to step into happiness. “I just want our baby to be happy in the end and that’s all that matters to me.”

  “Me too,” Marc agreed. “I think he will be.”

  “Or maybe a she,” I argued to Marc laughing at me.

  “Or maybe a she.” He planted a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I love how we can easily work things out.”

  “Me too,” I said before making the point, “most of the time.”

  * * *

  From the moment my bump popped, my mission was to hide it in every way possible. At five months along, my family was still left in the dark. I still saw them almost every Friday as if nothing was different in my life, but it was. I was waiting for the birth of my child in secret. Every moment I stressed about how they’d feel or react. I was afraid of them knowing.

  Every week, I watched my sister-in-law grow and my mother dote over the child still growing inside of her. I hated I couldn’t have the same and with each visit, I grew jealous of the attention she received when I was also giving the gift of life.

  Luckily, the conversations with my family were no longer revolved around how I was too skinny. My mother was proud of my weight gain and how my face was clearly filling out and I wasn’t a twig anymore.

  Getting off the metro, I tried to walk as normal as possible, but I was beginning to develop a waddle in my step. Leaving the metro station, I waddled toward the entrance of the university hospital I was being seen at throughout my pregnancy. I had an appointment and Marc was supposed to meet me at the hospital once he finished his physical therapy session as it was at the same hospital.

  As soon as I stepped inside the automatic doors, arms came around my waist and a kiss planted on my lips. I didn’t have to see him but only smell his scent and take in the feel of his strong arms to know it was the love of my life.

  “How was class?” Marc laced our fingers and we began toward the check-in and registration area.

  “Good. There is so much to do still before they perform on Saturday,” I told him.

  It was time for the Dance Conservatory’s big Winter Showcase and all my girls, and one boy, would be performing over the weekend. My schedule was full as we added extra rehearsals and costume fittings into the schedule to prepare. I was stretching myself, but I knew it would all be worth it in the end for my students to show their skills.

  “Don’t overdo it,” Marc nudged me.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told him as we approached the registration screen and I did what I had to do, check-in for my appointment. This was my life every February but being pregnant did make all the running around much tougher.

  With my hand in his, we strolled through the large hospital to the Obstetrics and Gynecology department. Today was the most exciting appointment of all as we were prepared to learn the sex of our baby. We’d spent the last few nights in bed thinking up names for a boy or a girl and imagining our future with them in our lives.

  “How are you feeling in there today, mon Chouchou?” Marc asked my belly as we took a seat in the waiting room and he placed his hand over my rounded bump. As usual, whenever Marc touched my belly, the baby would instantly kick back. “Somebody’s excited for us to see you.”

  “Nina Sangare,” my name was called, and I looked up to see my blonde doctor standing in the doorway to the exam room. Marc stood with me and placed his hand gently on the small of my back as we followed my doctor into the examination room. “Comment allez vous?” She closed the door.

  “Fatigué,” I answered with a huff. Pregnancy was exhausting and it didn’t help I was doing what I could to keep my pregnancy quiet. That in and of itself was extremely tiring.

  “That’s normal unless you’re feeling dizzy or overly exhausted. Try to keep cool and drink lots of fluids,” she reminded sweetly as she motioned for me to head over to the table next to the ultrasound machine. “Let’s see this baby.”

  Getting on the table, I lifted my sweater to reveal my rounded and protruding stomach. My belly button was beginning to poke outward and I could see the motion of the baby while feeling it inside me.

  “Active today?” The doctor sat down on the stool with the machine and Marc sat on the other side of me taking my hand into his and squeezing it tight.

  “Every day,” I commented as I thought of the constant bumps and kicks I’d receive nearly all day, every day from my little secret.

  As the doctor squeezed the gel onto my stomach, I shivered at how cold it was and glanced over to Marc who was in awe of everything as he was at every appointment. His eyes were wide and peering all over the place before settling on my eyes and a smile came to his lips. I smiled back before he bent over to me and gave me a chaste kiss.

  Starting the ultrasound, I could see what the doctor saw on the screen above my head. She showed us the feet, legs, heart, arms, fingers, and little face before we finally got to what we’d been waiting for. My heart pounded in anticipation.

  “Are you ready to find out the sex?” My doctor asked us excitedly.

  “Oui, oui,” I cheered as I tried to not hold my breath.

  “It looks like a boy.”

  I immediately glanced over to Marc who was beaming with joy. When we’d lay in bed talking about our future, he always talked about our son. His dream was coming true.

  “Un garçon,” he gushed before he grabbed both sides of my face and kissed me hard. “Bonjour, Axel.”

  It was the name we’d settled on together for a boy. After weeks of back and forth we’d narrowed it down to a handful of names for each sex until we’d come up with one name for each. Our baby boy would be Axel Mohamed Vandenberghe.

  Leaving the appointment, Marc and I gushed over the ultrasound photos we’d received. I couldn’t believe that every day, week, and month was moving so incredibly fast. It wouldn’t be long before I had a baby boy in my arms.

  “My mom is going to scream,” Marc noted as we strolled into the Metro station together, fingers intertwined. I thought of Charlotte and how every time I saw her, she would gush about how thrilled she was for Marc to become a father. “What about your mom?”

  “Please, Marc,” I murmured, not wanting to go into it. I still hadn’t thought of how I’d tell my family. I knew I’d tell my mother first, she was the least of my worries, at least I hoped.

  Marc let out an annoyed huff as he generally did when I tried to get away from the conversation. We scanned our tickets and went through the ga
tes of the station and began toward the platform.

  “I don’t see why you’re so fucking ashamed of the fact that you’re having my child,” Marc argued. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of having his child. I knew how my family would take it and I wasn’t ready for the drama that would ensue. Plus, I knew my parents could never look at me the same way again.

  “I’m not ashamed,” I concluded. “I just know it will be a mess. I know I can’t avoid it for too much longer but I’m not ready.”

  “What’s the worst that can happen?” He asked as we waited on the platform for our train.

  “For starters, my brother will try to kill you, literally,” I noted knowing exactly how it would go down. “My mother will be an emotional wreck, and my dad…” My voice trailed off before I swallowed down the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to be the reason he has another heart attack.”

  “Ma petite danseuse,” Marc cooed with an arm around my shoulder as he bent to me and kissed my cheek. “Don’t think that way.”

  “It’s hard not to.” I wiped away my tears. I was constantly an emotional wreck. I was already emotional before pregnancy but with child everything made my cry easily.

  “At the end of the day, we have each other. We make our family complete.”

  “We do.” Peering into Marc’s bright blue eyes, I saw our future together. It would be us and our baby boy, but the thought of losing my family’s love and support did scare me. I already lived on the edge of not being fully accepted.

  Marc rubbed my arm before he took my hand into his while his other one reached into his pocket.

  “I wanted to wait until dinner tonight. I had this huge plan. Dinner at the Grand Place, there’s even a musician waiting but fuck that. It’s not me anyway. I’m a simple guy and it makes more since to do this simply, the only way I really know how.” I was so confused to what he was going on about. “Ever since I picked this up this afternoon, I can’t wait. You know me and secrets,” he joked with a sloppy grin before he dropped to one knee in the middle of the metro station. “Nina, I love you. I love our son, and I love the life we’re building together. You literally dropped into my life from heaven. This quiet and graceful dancer changed everything and I’m never going back to how my life was before. Nina Sangare, will you marry me?”