by Kyra Fox
“Dukes?” I raise an eyebrow. “Like the royal title?”
“No.” Zoe laughs. “That’s my mom’s maiden name, our shared family heritage of genius.”
“Oh.” I feel a blush creep up my cheeks at my silly remark. For the first time since we’ve met, I find myself wondering just how much Zoe has to dumb herself down for me. “So, the genius runs in the family?”
“Let’s just say it’s multi-generational in our case.” Brian doesn’t smile when he answers; if anything, his gaze darkens.
“So, your kids will be geniuses as well?” Tim directs the question at Brian, but I can see the bastard sneaking glances toward Zoe and me.
“Sure. IQ has been linked to genetic attributes, though environmental effects play a big part in nurturing those genetic traits,” Zoe answers, either oblivious to Tim’s blatant insinuation or ignoring it, and takes a sip of her beer as everyone looks at her with a blank expression. Well, everyone except for Brian.
“I agree that you can’t entirely dismiss the Matthew Effect, but even if the circumstance is ideal, it won’t happen if you don’t have the genetic predisposition.” Brian looks at Zoe as if it were the most obvious statement in the world and Tim shoots me a confused glance, to which I can only reply with a pull of my shoulder. In truth, I’m fascinated by this side of Zoe, her serious demeanor and the wheels in her head turning as she builds her arguments.
“If your brain isn’t wired the right way or if you don’t have even a minor skill already in you, no amount of work will make you excel.” Brian looks at her with challenge, daring her to contradict him.
“Everybody is genetically dispositioned to be good at something,” Zoe states. “It’s more a matter of luck, finding out what that something is and creating a supportive environment conductive enough to kick off the Multiplier Effect.”
“Okay, stop.” Gina waves her hand in the air in exasperation. “You’re giving me a headache.”
“Sorry.” A blush creeps up Zoe’s neck. My hand squeezes her side, and I shoot her a grin. “We get carried away sometimes.”
“I still think it’s a giant turn on,” I whisper in her ear, and she giggles, her tongue darting out to lick her lip as I tug on her bang.
The conversation flows after that. Brian tells us about his research on Alzheimer’s Disease and his Ph.D. in neurogenetics from MIT, which he got at an even younger age than Zoe got hers. We talk about the Cubs and about the pet store. I’m relieved to find out Zoe is a dog person, though even if she weren’t, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but the fact that she is makes her even more perfect.
I even manage to get some one on one time with Brian, who turns out to be a fun guy to be around once he forgets he’s supposed to be sullen about whatever the chip on his shoulder is.
“So how are you handling the whole dating a genius thing?” Brian smirks into his beer.
“Not easy, man,” I admit. “I mean, we’ve barely started dating, but from the cuff you always have a nagging voice in your head saying she’ll get bored because I can’t keep up with her crazy smarts. She should be dating a genius, like you, just not one who’s her cousin, obviously.”
“Please,” Brian snorts and looks at me with reproach. “You heard how quickly we spiraled down the rabbit hole because you asked if smart runs in the family. Can you imagine spending your entire life with someone when every conversation looks like that, only worse?”
“No, I can’t say that I can.” I laugh, feeling slightly better. “I like how smart she is. I like that she makes me think and keeps me on my toes. I just don’t want her to have to dumb down for me.”
“We do have normal conversations, you know? Zoe isn’t dumbing herself down just because she doesn’t speak with you in science code.” Brian seems amused that I’d think otherwise. “She doesn’t need you to match her IQ points, she just needs you not to be scared of them.”
“More intrigued, though if she starts talking about super-cures, I’m running for the hills. I’ve seen enough zombie movies to know how that shit ends.” Brian chuckles and raises his glass in a “fair enough” gesture. “How many of those points does she have anyway?”
He just lifts an eyebrow over the rim of his pint, clapping me on the back as he goes to play a round of 8-ball with Tim.
“Not helpful, B!” I yell after him and shake my head, surprised at how easily I’ve adopted his nickname as if I’ve known him for years.
What is it with me and this family?
“What was he supposed to be helping you with?” Zoe pops her head over my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “I like the stubble.” She runs her chin over the prickly hair on my face.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I grin and angle my head to give her easier access. “He was giving me insights into dating a genius.”
“Oh.” Zoe goes still. “And?”
“I think it’s time we head out. Doesn’t seem to be winding down in here and I don’t think I can wait any longer for the pool table to free up.” Zoe’s posture relaxes, and she smiles against my cheek.
“Still thinking about that sexy brain of mine, are we?” She whispers into my ear in a sultry voice, and I spin around in my stool, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her to me.
“I always am, Goddess.” I plant a kiss on her lips that leaves her panting. “Now let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Eight
ZOE
It had become somewhat of a tradition over the three weeks since Mac had waited for me at the café that every Thursday after his class he’d stick around, sometimes in the lecture hall and sometimes at Brain Juice, and work on his assignments. When my class was over, we’d hang out a bit and then head back to my place, spending the rest of the night making love until dawn and falling into a sated sleep wrapped around each other.
When it’s time for girlfriend happy hour, they’re always thrilled to see Mac there and have a quick chat with him while I get myself something to drink. It’s always a laughter-filled few minutes.
On one of our more alcohol-infused dates Mac had told me he liked my friends, that he didn’t get the connection at first, we’re so completely different from one another, but somehow we complete each other, balance each other out. It’s as if no matter the distance we’re connected by invisible lines, and part of him envies that connection.
I teased that it’s nice to know he has a sappy side, but I was touched by his words, especially since he knows how important the girls are to me. And it also saddened me that he never felt a connection like that.
While I was on my happy hour date, Mac would cook us dinner and then we’d eat, sometimes in conversation and sometimes, like today, in comfortable silence, after which he’d go back to his apartment to change then come back to pick me up for a date night followed by meeting the crew for pool, Brian being officially one of the crew now.
Mac and Brian started talking between themselves a lot since that first night at Sticks, and I’m thrilled to hear that they started hanging out beyond Friday night group outings, going to the gym or grabbing a beer and watching a game. Brian skipped so many grades he doesn’t really have any guy friends his own age, and Mac seems to have a positive effect on the Dukes’ family prodigies.
It didn’t stop me from teasing them about their budding bromance, though, which they took with grace and humor, going so far as to embrace the status, dubbing themselves “brofriends.” Mac even got Brian to finally do something about the awful beard he had let run wild.
Aside from Mac’s mystery errand every Saturday afternoon, we’d spend the rest of the weekend together, usually at my place, working, studying, hanging out and having sex. Mainly that last one. We spent weeknights together as well if our schedules allowed, but our weekend routine had become somewhat of a sacred ritual which we both anticipated all week.
It had become our haven, our little island of refuge from the toils of real life.
I’m washing the dinner dishes, watching Mac clean the table with an o
verly concentrated demeanor. It’s kind of cute how serious he is about order and tidiness. He’s become such an integral part of my home and my routine, that I don’t remember him ever not being there, and the thought sends pleasurable currents through my body.
Drying my hands, I go to him, snaking my arms around his waist and looking up at him with a cheeky grin. He places his hands on my hips and strokes the fabric of my robe with his thumbs.
“Do you want to take a shower before you leave?” He cocks an eyebrow at me and one of his hand’s glides from my waist over my ass, bare under my robe, and between my legs. He groans when he finds me wet, his cock getting instantly hard.
“I’m not sure I’ll make it to the shower.” He admits as his fingers start to glide over my slick folds, causing me to moan and rock my hips. Our gazes lock, and I beckon him with my eyes to take his touch a step further.
“You’re going to have to say it out loud, my little sex goddess.” He undoes the belt of my robe and slides his hand up my stomach, grazing the bottom swell of my breast with his thumb.
“Inside.” My hands slide around his neck, bracing for what’s coming next. “I want your fingers inside of me.” He slides one finger in.
“Keep going.” He tweaks a nipple between his forefinger and thumb, never breaking eye contact.
“I want you to make me come with your amazing hands,” I say with a pant, and he adds another finger. “Oh, fuck, yes… I want to come all over your hand, and I want you to taste me, and then I want to taste myself on your lips…” My eyes squeeze shut, and I let out a moan as he adds a third finger and curls them to the exact right spot.
“Don’t stop. I want to hear what my little sex goddess wants.” He’s whispering as if scared to break the magic of the moment by speaking too loudly. “Look at me when you say it.” His eyes are as dark a green as I’ve ever seen, looking at me with such intensity that it almost makes me climax on its own accord. I struggle to find my words.
“And then I want to taste myself on your lips and tongue while you’re deep inside of me, making me come again,” I manage to rasp out.
His mouth comes crashing onto mine with a bruising kiss. He positions his thigh between my legs, so I’m rubbing on it while riding his hand wildly, coming apart within seconds, wave after wave of pleasure crashing down on me.
I have never experienced anything like that before, never allowed myself to get so lost in desire that I’d say such brazen words.
Mac is knocking down all my defenses, all my calculated do’s and don’ts disappear the second he touches me. My rational mind knows I should be alarmed by the lack of control, and I wait to hear the bells go off in my head even as he carries me to the bedroom and lays me gently in the middle of my bed, but they never do.
Looking into the impossibly-green eyes of the man above me, all I feel is safe and happy.
MAC
I thought I was going to come right along with Zoe in the kitchen.
The words she was saying, the way her body took pleasure from mine with so much greed like she couldn’t get enough, the way she panted and moaned and cried my name like I was the only one in the world for her. And the way she explodes every time I make her come, clenching around me, pulling me deeper and deeper into her warm, soft body where I would willingly drown forever.
It took all my willpower to hold myself back so I could see her fantasy through.
I roll on a condom and crawl between Zoe’s legs, kissing my way up until I’m on her mouth, massaging her lips with mine.
Her hand tangles in my hair trying to pull me deeper into the kiss but instead I pull back. Looking into her glazed eyes, I lift the fingers I had inside of her just moments before to my mouth and suck all her juices off them.
Her breath hitches, her tongue darts out to lick her upper lip in anticipation, and she slides her calf up my thigh, over my butt, urging me to press my hips to hers.
“You taste like vanilla, my little sex goddess.” I bring her other leg up as well, and she hooks her ankles around my waist, opening herself wide to me. “Do you want to taste?” She nods, pulling my head down by my hair again, and this time I comply.
Our lips meet with a crash, teeth bumping against teeth. I feel Zoe’s urgency as she licks and sucks my lips greedily.
“Why aren’t you inside of me yet?” She barely breaks the contact of our lips to say it, but it’s all I need to give in to the animalistic desire itching to be set free.
Plunging my tongue into her mouth at the same time that I thrust my hips forward, I enter her with one swift move causing her to gasp in my mouth, and then without a second’s pause I pull out almost completely and repeat the action, causing us to move up the bed from the sheer force of my thrust.
I keep going, thrusting deep and hard into her while she hungrily tastes herself on my tongue. A couple of weeks ago I would have been scared to be so rough with her, but I know her now, know her body, know what she likes and how much of it she can take, know how far I can push her boundaries without breaking them.
“You like the way you taste on my lips, Goddess?” I growl in a husky voice, picking up the pace of my thrusts without lessening their force. Zoe nods, unable to speak between her moans, too consumed in the scorching pleasure to find her words.
“Good.” My kiss is deep, and she presses me even closer with her hand, trying to find a corner of my mouth she missed.
When I break the kiss she whimpers, but the words were tumbling out of me, she’s driving me crazy with the sounds she’s making as I pound into her, with the way her body reacts to mine.
Somewhere in the back of my mind alarms are going off telling me I’m losing control, but I’m too far gone to listen. “Imagine how good my lips will taste after you’ve come all over my face.”
“Yes,” she hisses out, and I feel her starting to clench around me, the primal instincts taking over the last rational part of my brain then.
“Is the thought of my face buried between your thighs making you come, Goddess?” My voice is like gravel from want, and her response is another whimper as her hips meet my hard and fast thrusts, her muscles starting to spasm. “Next time I’m going to make you come with my mouth, with my tongue buried deep inside of you. I’m going to lick you until all you can say is my name.”
“Yes, Mac, yes.” Her fingernails are digging into my skin as she hits her climax repeating my name in soft moans and gasps that I’ve come to acknowledge as the best sounds in the world, her entire body convulsing around me with such force pulling me deeper into her, pulling me over with her as I come with a roar.
“Oh, fuck.” I’m shaking, my eyesight’s blurry and I can’t bring myself to roll off Zoe, so I just lay there, crushing her with my weight as she soothes me with lazy strokes down my spine. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“Are you okay?” she murmurs into my shoulder with a satisfied voice.
“I don’t know.” I’m too on edge to play it cool. “That was intense, Zo. I’ve never… Those things I said… Those things I made you say…”
“Hey, you didn’t make me do anything,” she says with a stern voice, making me meet her eyes so I’d see how deadly serious she is. “Don’t ever think you can make me do something I don’t want to do. You may push me out of my comfort zone, but I’ll never do anything I’m not comfortable with, I promise.”
I nod and take a deep breath to steady myself for the next words I need to say. “The condom… Zoe, I think it broke.”
“Okay.”
“I’m safe. I get tested regularly, and I always wear a condom,” I hurry to reassure her.
“Yeah, me too.” She’s still looking at me, waiting for me to say what’s really bothering me, like she senses something is weighing down on me, pushing me toward a freak-out.
“Zoe…” I take another steadying breath. “Do you want to go to the pharmacy, get the day after pill?”
“I don’t need to.” She smiles what I assume is supposed to be a reassuring smile,
but I’m way beyond being reassured at this point. “I’ve been on the pill forever.”
Deep down I believe her, but I’m too far gone into the panic that had spread through me like a wildfire, burning away every bit of rationality, to be able to push that thought to the forefront of my brain.
Zoe must see it in my eyes, because she averts her gaze and drops her arms to her chest, as if to protect herself from me, and indicates the bathroom. “Next to the deodorant.”
I slide out of her, immediately feeling like the light dimmed when I break contact. In the bathroom, I peel off the condom with shaking hands. It’s broken, alright.
Rubbing my palm over my face, I walk to the medicine cabinet and open it, picking up a box of birth control pills, not a pill missed since before we even met. I let out a long, shuddery, breath, and turn on the water to wash my face.
My hands won’t stop shaking, and I look at myself in the mirror.
“Get a grip, Eric,” I scold myself. “Zoe would never do something like that, she’s a decent human being.”
“I really am.” I jump at the sound of her voice in the doorway. She walks to the shower and turns on the water. “There’s a story there.” She extends her arm out and waits for me to take her hand.
I hesitate for a second and then take it, letting her lead me under the hot water.
We shower in silence, soaping each other’s backs, and I wash her hair. When we step out and wrap ourselves in big fluffy green towels, I catch Zoe’s arm and turn her to me.
“I’m sorry I freaked out like that.” I had wound down and realized that I had thrown my own issues at Zoe when she had done nothing to deserve that kind of doubt on my behalf. “My mom had very blatant disregard to safe sex. It’s a sensitive subject, but that’s not on you, and I shouldn’t have overreacted like that.”