Crocodile Tears: A Boy Meets Girl Story

by Daya Daniels

  Zane eases me off him with a growl. He guides me to my knees and shoves his mouth there, licking and lapping along my already sensitive slit. I was still gulping for air, burying the last bits of my cries into the soft white sheets. His fingers trail in a line down the middle of my spine and then settle over the tight pucker of my asshole. His breaths are deep, while he massages there earning a shocked squeak from me. My watery eyes shoot open but I don’t make a sound. My head still isn’t clear from the powerful orgasm that just wracked through my body.

  “Liv, you’re so fucking sexy.”

  I’m exposed. His fingers drag from my wet slit to my asshole, coating it in wetness each time he does it. He massages my ass and back lovingly with one hand, while the other repeats the movement of coating the tight hole over and over.

  “So pretty,” he whispers as we rock back and forth with him behind me.

  The sensation is foreign but it’s good. I’m curious. The fact that I’m enjoying what he’s doing makes me feel dirty sexy/sexy dirty, which only causes even more wetness to dribble out of me slicking the insides of my thighs.

  He leans over my shoulder pulling my face to his and kisses me. His tongue invades my mouth but the kiss is controlled and purposeful. He’s baiting me and it’s working! Then he returns to what he was doing. His thick fingers massage and rub. I moan loud and rock forward. When it slips into the tight passage, I whimper and stiffen like a terrified goat. A hard smack lands to my ass cheek. The crack of it permeates the air around us.

  Immediately, I yelp at the burn.

  “Liv,” he says firmly. “Relax.”

  His hands massage me—my ass, my back, my shoulders, while his fingers slide in and out of me forcing the tight hole to ease.

  “Rub your clit,” he instructs.

  I move a shaky hand down between my legs and massage my own swollen flesh. It feels good. I arch my back more and he hisses, squeezing one of my ass cheeks hard.

  “You’re nice and ready, Liv,” he whispers.

  His hand settles at my hip again, when the hot head of his cock prods at my asshole, begging to enter.

  We are going to do this...

  I relax, rubbing my clit, while he slowly slides into the tight passage, letting out a loud groan. I whimper, holding my breath and curling my fingers into the sheets beneath me.

  He moves slowly in and out, hissing as he does. I massage my clit, applying more pressure. Pretty soon, he settles into a rhythm that has me screaming and him groaning like a savage. I rub my clit harder when he picks up speed. I’m drooling and ugly whines leave my mouth, along with high-pitched cries. I’m coming again, covered in sweat and whimpering while he tunnels deeper inside of me. I’m moaning incoherent things—telling him to fuck me and asking him to stop. I don’t know what the hell I want! I’m on the cusp of coming again, clenching hard with quivering thighs. I’m a fucking mess!

  Zane breathes hard, grunts, and completely stiffens behind me. I moan when I feel him throb deep inside of me, as he empties himself. He lets out a loud breath that causes me to shiver when he’s done and pulls out slowly. He dips down to kiss my ass cheek, biting it a little and pulls me against him. He kisses my tears, peering into my face. Then my lips.

  He pulls the comforter over us and then hits the remote to bring the shades down, throwing the room into complete darkness.

  We sleep.

  Liv

  “The Vs! The Vs! The Vs!” the crowd cheers and stomps, making it feel like the small beginnings of a very real Pacific Northwest earthquake.

  The atmosphere is electric. Zane hits a chord on his Gibson telecaster that echoes throughout Century Link Field. Cash fits pumps holding the mic in his hand.

  “The Vs!” he sings into the mic, joining the crowd’s chanting.

  The band had just finished playing their hit song Lies We Told Mother.

  It’s incredible. I stand hugging myself, watching from a side corner of the stage. I run my fingers over my arms, feeling the goose bumps that have spread across my tanned skin. I’m only wearing a simple tank top and shorts. My hair is up in a messy bun.

  The band finishes up their set and leaves the stage for a break. Zane strides towards me shirtless, with his guitar hanging around his chest. Sweat beads down his skin and his black hair is matted to his face. When he reaches me, he wipes his face with the red bandana that’s always tied to his belt loop. He leans down to kiss me but he seems out of sorts. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed it before. I give him a concerned look. He only shakes his head and grabs my arm, dragging me along with him back to the dressing room.

  “We have twenty minutes!” Barry shouts out as the band disperses.

  Yandi follows behind us but disappears once we make it to the door.

  Zane makes it to the dressing room and bolts for the bathroom. I hear retching and coughing. I follow him inside, only to see him brushing his teeth frantically. He washes his face and takes a deep breath looking at his reflection in the mirror. He grips the sides of the vanity and looks at himself. I feel like I’m intruding in on some private moment he’s having with the guy in the mirror.

  He turns the taps on and splashes more cold water on himself, along with soap. Another deep breath, then a sigh, followed by the muttering of a few swear words under his breath. He steps out into the dressing room and finds another T-shirt, putting it on. He plops down on the sofa, squeezing his head between his hands. I stand simply watching him, unsure of what to say. He pulls a box of cigarettes out of his pocket, taking one out. His hands shake like he’s standing at the pearly gates. He can barely put the cigarette to his mouth, let alone light it. I give him a skeptical look and approach cautiously, running my hands along my forearms.

  “Please, not now, Liv. I beg you.”

  I rethink my words.

  “I need you to do something, please.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Please go and get a baggie from Cash.”

  “No,” I say firmly. “Why, Zane?”

  Zane gives me a look that’s a mixture of surprise, anger, and maybe even betrayal.

  “I don’t think that’s what you need,” I add, considering his physical state.

  “Liv, I’ve tried this for long enough. I just need to get through this show.”

  I twist my face looking at him.

  “Just do it, Liv. I’m not going to be able to finish this tonight like this.”

  I open my mouth to speak but don’t say anything. Zane wipes the sweat from his face again. He’s covered in it even though it’s like Antarctica in this dressing room. I open my mouth again, taking in the sight of him attempting to light the cigarette between his lips. I step closer and do it for him.

  His grey eyes look up to meet mine. “Liv, please go and get it.”

  I try to protest.

  “Liv! Goddamn it! Just fucking do it! Go and get the baggie!” he screams.

  I flinch at his anger and move towards the door. There’s a knock on it. Yandi pokes her head in and then pushes inside.

  “Are you okay, Zane?”

  “No, I’m not fucking okay!” He stands and roars, “Go and get the fucking baggie!”

  Yandi’s brown eyes go wide. “Okay. Okay. I’ll be right back,” she says frantically backing out of the door.

  Zane plops back on the couch, massaging his temples with his fingers, smoking the cigarette at the same time. I stand in the corner, wishing I could make myself invisible at this very moment. I don’t speak. I only watch him, mumbling to himself and pressing his fingers into his head like it somehow alleviates the pain.

  “I feel like my fucking skull is going to crack in half,” he hisses.

  A rapid tap at the door and Yandi’s back. She peeks inside and pulls something from her pants pocket, putting it in my hands.

  “Thanks.”

  Yandi reaches in and locks the door before she pulls it shut. I approach Zane cautiously and toss the baggie on the table in front of where his head hangs low. H
e shakily lets the cigarette rest in the astray, while he opens it. He does a few lines, then covers his face with his hands.

  I drop to my knees and put myself between his legs. I pull his hands away from his face and hold him close to my chest.

  “I just need a few minutes to get my shit together, Liv.” He sniffles. “I’ll be okay in five minutes.” He laughs dryly.

  “Okay,” I whisper, when he shifts away from me.

  He snorts a little more of the powder, sniffing loudly after a few times as he sits there. I press a kiss to his lips and nudge him to lean back against the sofa, spreading his arms out. I edge closer and reach for his zipper.

  He places his large hand over mine. “Liv, no,” he says quietly.

  I take in the words tattooed across the top of it in scarlet ink. They read “mercy.” I give him a small smile and move his hand away. I place it at his side without speaking. Keeping his gaze, I slowly pull down the zipper of his jeans. Zane groans and slumps deeper into the sofa. He bounces out hard and heavy. I run my fingers over his thickness, running my tongue over my lips.

  The music outside from the band on now vibrates through the floors.

  Zane watches me with red eyes, cocks his head to the side and breathes out deep through his nose.

  “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” I whisper before I take him deep into my mouth.

  Zane

  “Who died and put you in charge?” Cash fires at me, rising quickly from where he sits.

  I press out my cigarette. “Sit down before I sit you the fuck down,” I mumble.

  “Guys, please. It’s a fucking name for Christ’s sake,” Barry goes on. “We have a deadline to keep and millions of dollars on the line, half of which have been advanced to each one of you,” he says giving us the individual beady eye.

  Barry runs his hands through his hair and cranes his neck to the ceiling. It’s nearly two in the morning. We sit in the recording studio after we’ve just finished mixing and mastering a few songs that make up half of the next album.

  “I think it should be called ‘Apple Pie,’” Cash says proudly, jutting his chest out.

  Rose snorts a laugh.

  “What’s so fucking funny?” Cash questions, glaring at him.

  “I just think it’s dumb, man.”

  “Why don’t you shut the fuck up before I kick your gay ass all around this studio.”

  Rose shoots up from his seat, fists balled, eyes blazing. “I will show you how a gay black eye feels then, you fucking asshole.”

  “Okay, please, please,” Barry says extending his arms between them, keeping the two grenades apart.

  Cash cocks his head to the side and gives Rose a taunting smirk.

  “I think,” Dexter says bobbing his head a few times. “We should go with Zane’s suggestion. I mean he wrote the fucking songs.”

  Cash growls loudly. “You would fucking say that. He’s your brother!”

  I chuckle and rub my chin.

  “I say we go with Zane’s suggestion too,” Rose adds, taking a seat.

  “Bare,” Barry says, giving me a firm look.

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  “I think I like the sound of it to be honest. Just Bare?”

  “Yes,” I repeat.

  “I like it,” Barry says.

  “It’s not for you to like,” I grit out.

  Barry huffs and gives me a brittle smile.

  I give him a beaming one back.

  “We have a release date of December first.”

  I nod. “The rest of the songs will be done by then.”

  “You sure?” Barry asks.

  “Do we have a choice? That’s the contract you signed us to moneybags with RR, remember?”

  Barry runs his hand over his jaw. He’s burning up inside from my goading. Another thing I could give two shits about...

  “Okay,” he says softly. “We work until then and in between. Tomorrow night, we’re heading to Vegas.”

  Cash lets out a whistle. “Yeah, baby.”

  “We’re near to the end of this tour. We have a few free days before the next show. We work on those days,” Barry says letting out an exasperated breath.

  The tour was set to end in Anaheim, in homage to where The Vigilantes first found success in California. It was fitting and everyone loved the idea, except for Cash of course.

  “Good work,” Barry says patting me on the shoulder as he passes by.

  Now, I’m tempted to set the jacket I’m wearing on fire.

  Zane

  When I make it back to the hotel, Liv is up sketching. She sits under a lamp in the corner of the room, wearing nothing but a white T-shirt. Her wavy hair is out and falls over her shoulders.

  A shitload of paint and art supplies are in a pile on the table.

  “Still up, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she breathes out, giving me a smile.

  I press a small kiss to her lips and take a seat on the edge of the coffee table.

  “They like my stuff.”

  “I knew they would.”

  I keep her gaze, my facial expression never faltering.

  Liv laughs and shakes her head. “This faith you have in me, I don’t know...”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to send them the rest and go from there. I don’t know if anyone will buy my sketches, Zane,” she huffs.

  “I think they will.”

  “You think?”

  “Yes.”

  Liv is a little different. She’s more confident and a little less needy, though still needy. She’s finding her own independence even though she’s still discovering who she is. I breathe in when I look her over. Her skin is tanned and her legs are toned. She lifts one ever so slightly, allowing me to see that she isn’t wearing panties underneath. I bite into my bottom lip and groan. She’s sexy and it’s a huge turn-on.

  She places the sketchpad down and stands in front of me. I press my face into the soft cotton of her T-shirt taking in her warmth. She fingers through my hair and inhales.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper, knowing that I wasn’t.

  I was higher than the Hubble Space Telescope.

  “I feel like I haven’t really seen you these past few days.”

  I chuckle. “It’s because you haven’t.”

  I slide my hands up her thighs and squeeze the round globes of her ass. Her skin feels incredible underneath my fingertips and the scent that lingers on her skin is warm and inviting. I pull her closer to me.

  “I love you, Liv.”

  She giggles. “I know.”

  “You’re not going to say it back?”

  “No,” she whispers and I can hear the humor in her voice. “You’re high.”

  I drop my head even lower, knowing I couldn’t deny the accusation. I scoot from the coffee table down on my knees to look up at her. Her sea-blue eyes blink slowly looking at me. They’re so beautiful and perfect, just like the rest of her.

  I fight my own demons each day. Liv has never once made any demands on me. She’s never threatened to leave me, unless I conform to what she wants or who she thinks I should be. Whether that’s good or bad, remains to be seen. She lets me be me...which is something no woman has ever been okay with. She makes me want to be better not just for her but for myself. I want to be Liv’s gorilla.

  “You’re the undoing of me, Liv.”

  She smiles and brushes some of my hair away from my face.

  “I love you,” she whispers kissing my lips.

  “Don’t ever stop loving me, Liv—no matter what.”

  She doesn’t answer. I repeat the statement. Inwardly, I realize I’m nearly pleading with her not to. I don’t know when I became this guy. What the fuck am I even asking her for? I shut my eyes, accepting that I’m begging her not to leave me—not to give up on us no matter what happens.

  “I won’t,” she says looking down at me.

  She runs her fingers over my che
eks. I take her hand in mine and press a kiss to the top of it.

  “Promise.”

  “I promise,” she says.

  I can give Liv everything she needs, I just need to break up with the other woman I’m seeing. The one I can’t seem to get out of my fucking life!

  Liv

  I cover my mouth, hoping to hide my giggle.

  The next morning Zane stands in front of me, wearing bright blue shorts, a yellow T-shirt, canvas sneakers, and a straw hat. He puts on his Ray-Bans and tucks a box of cigarettes in his back pocket.

  I look his attire over again and laugh.

  “What?”

  I bite my lip and shake my head vigorously. I pull a baseball cap on and put on some sunglasses.

  “Nothing. You just look um...”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, you look good.”

  Zane raises his arms. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Where are we going?” I ask, giving him a skeptical look.

  Zane steps towards me and places a kiss on my cheek. “I want to do something with you before we leave here. It’s my first day off in a while, baby girl.

  “Tarver is waiting for us.”

  I lift a brow in his direction, when he throws his arm over my shoulder and we head for the door. We take the elevator and make it across the lobby. On the sidewalk outside, a few fans ask for autographs. I step aside and allow Zane to sign and giggle when I see how women fall all over him and guys seem to think he’s one of the coolest dudes ever—which he is. Zane’s level of fame wasn’t what I expected. It’s comfortable—hovering somewhere between being a mega-star and being well-known. He’s never swamped but people always recognize him. Although Yandi warned me that I might not be able to do the things I used to, since Zane and I were dating, it hasn’t turned out like that. No one bothers me really, which I’m grateful for. I’m a nobody, even being Tom Stanton’s daughter.

  Tarver ushers me to the vehicle and I step in. Zane follows behind. We pull out into traffic, right when Zane takes a selfie of us with his iPhone. Then he takes a second photo. I snatch the phone playfully from him and look at them. In the first he’s sticking his tongue out and making a cross-eyed face and in the second he’s serious.