Cloned For Him

  Cloned For Him

  Clone Games Series: Book 1

  Jenna Graylin

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Newsletter

  Chapter One: Steven

  Chapter Two: Marcie

  Chapter Three: Steven

  Chapter Four: Steven

  Chapter Five: Steven

  Chapter Six: Steven

  Chapter Seven: Steven

  Chapter Eight: Steven

  Chapter Nine: Steven

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  Moon Hunt: Book 1 Preview

  Chapter One: Cassandra

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

  All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of sexual nature are completely consensual.

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  Chapter One: Steven

  “You about ready, Marcie?” I called up the stairs.

  “Yup! Just looking for my other—hey! You little shit!”

  I turned at the sound of Marcie chasing something around upstairs; “Give back my shoe you little fluff-bomb! Steven, Doozle has my shoe! Grab him!”

  The shoe-thief appeared at the top of the stairs, said-shoe gripped tightly in his little jaws as he barreled down the stairs toward me in a bouncing ball of white fluff. I lunged forward and grabbed him, holding him tightly as he flailed and grunted in my arms. Marcie appeared at the top of the stairs, holding one shoe in her right hand, her long dark hair wild and undone behind her, flowing down her back as she descended quickly. She giggled, taking her other shoe, “You stinkbug,” she said to Doozle, “You're gonna make us late.”

  “Maybe that's the plan,” I joked, “You about ready?”

  “Yeah.” she said, scratching Doozle's ears, “Kinda wish we could just stay home and spend the night here together. We're not going to be home until late, you know.”

  I watched her sit down on the steps and I sat down with her as she put her shoes on. I wound my arm around her shoulders comfortingly, “Well, it can't really be helped, Marcie. I'm still new to the company and from what I'm told, the annual Christmas eve party is the place to be if you want to impress the boss.”

  “Do we have to stay long?” she asked, “These parties really aren't my thing, Steven.”

  “I know, Marcie.” I said, nuzzling her ear, “We don't have to stay long. We just have to show up, nibble a hors d'oeuvre, witness the Christmas white elephant auction, and then we can head home.”

  “Sounds simple when you line it up like that.” she said wistfully.

  “It will be simple. Now lets' get going.” I said, setting Doozle down on the stairs and making him sit. He sat, watching us, his whole butt wiggling in anticipation. Marcie giggled at this and shrugged her long brown coat on over her dark blue halter dress.

  Taking her hand, I carefully escorted her down the icy stairs.

  Christmas Eve came in like a phantom that night, with wispy trails of snow whipping up along the street, spiraling into the air and twisting against our bodies as we made our way to the car parked along the street. Marcie giggled as her feet slipped in the snow, struggling to catch herself with a squeal of both delight and fear. I grabbed her arm and dragged her closer to the car, holding her tightly against me as we both giggled madly.

  Marcie wrapped her hands around my neck, drawing her face close to mine, “Know what sounds good once we get home?” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Crockpot simmered hot chocolate and a crackling fire.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “And,” she continued, “A thick fluffy blanket straight out of the dryer.”

  “Man.”

  “And—” she said as she raised herself up so her lips grazed my ear, “One of your gifts just a little bit early.” she breathed.

  “Oh god, you really know how to tempt a guy.”

  She stepped back, a wide grin on her face, “But first, your stupid little party.” she said jokingly.

  “Dammit, was your plan to make me hate the idea of going as much as you do?” I groaned, though the smile refused to leave my face.

  “Maybe.” she said, batting her eyelashes at me.

  “Oh, get in the damn car.” I snapped teasingly.

  Marcie and I both had our own cars, thankfully. Mine was a red Saturn I'd picked up cheap from a friend who owned an auto-body shop. Marcie's car was a beat up blue sedan with a giant crack in the windshield and a huge dark red streak on the back bumper from when she'd given my car a not-so-little love tap while backing out a few months ago. I would've liked to take her car, but it was only two-wheel drive and I didn't trust it in the snow. So, my car it was, I supposed. I started up the engine and carefully pulled out onto the icy street. She reached her left hand up and started slowly winding her fingers through my curly hair, making me sigh happily. The snow whipped past our windshield like stars through the blackened sky as I made my way out of town toward the lodge where the party was being held.

  “So what's this place called?” she asked.

  “Wolf Haven Lodge. It used to be a ski resort. Now it's just a hotel.”

  Marcie gazed around the increasing darkness surrounding the car as we entered the woods, “Kinda creepy up this far at night.” she said.

  “Yeah, just a little bit. But I'll bet the views once we get there will be phenomenal.”

  We drove in relative silence. At one point, Marcie turned on the radio to some Christmas carols and set both our minds at ease. She sighed and leaned her head back, smiling contentedly, “I love this time of year.” she whispered.

  “Me too.” I said softly.

  She placed her delicate hand gently on my thigh as I drove, mindful of the icy street. Gradually, the lights of the lodge came into view through the inky blackness of the trees and I heard her sigh, “Well, time to get the hard part done first.” she said.

  “It shouldn't be too bad.” I said, though I honestly didn't want to be there anymore than she did.

  The lodge was a towering building of three or four floors filled with golden lights illuminating practically the entire mountainside. As we turned onto the main driveway, we could see a few dozen cars already parked or else waiting in line to be parked. People dressed in lavish, fur lined coats against the brutal cold swiftly made their way up the frozen walk and into the brightly lit foyer.

  Marcie turned to me and gave me a half smile, “Well, shall we face the lions?”

  I left my car with a valet out front and helped Marcie out of the car, opening the door and bowing before her to hide my amused smirk, “Mademoiselle Marcella, I bid you welcome.” I gushed.

  “Call me that one more time and I'm
inviting my ex-boyfriend over to spend the holidays.”

  “Hey, as long as you invite his husband too, I've got no problems with that. Those two are the life of the party.”

  Marcie rolled her eyes at me and took my hand, stepping out of the car and pulling the lapels of her coat close to her chin, “Ooh, it's cold! Lets' get inside, quick!” she exclaimed.

  We were laughing breathlessly from the icy chill as we staggered inside, instantly met with a wall of scent flush with carpet cleaner and ginger combined with all the heavy perfumes some of the older women had adorned. The whole thing created an olfactory overload that had us both gagging. We pulled ourselves together as an orderly greeted us and guided us to our table situated against the wall. The inside of the lodge had an enormous picture window that faced the mountains with a breathtaking view of the cityscape below, the lights sparkling and glowing far into the night sky above. Marcie stared longingly at it, sighing heavily, “Damn. I wish we'd been given a table closer to the window, Steve.” she muttered.

  “Yeah,” I said glumly, “Me too. That view beats these stupid hotel paintings next to us.” I jerked my thumb to the left at the mass-produced canvas 'art' you see in Hotel 8 rooms all across the country.

  “It stinks in here.” she grumbled, wrinkling her nose, “I can't even smell the food, assuming there is any to begin with.”

  “Probably catered stuff.”

  “Gross.”

  I chuckled at this. For as high class as Marcie looked, her tastes were about as simplistic and childish as a grown woman could get. It didn't take a lot to make her happy. Hell, there had been times during leaner years when I'd brought home happy meals for dinner and her face had lit up like a Christmas tree.

  “So can we leave yet?” she joked, grinning at me.

  “It's only been twenty seconds.”

  “But it's been a long and boring twenty seconds.”

  “Touche.”

  A waiter approached our table and asked for our drink orders. I had to admit, I didn't like the look on his face when I requested ordinary Cokes, but it couldn't be helped. The roads were terrible and I certainly wasn't drinking when I'd have to trek back down the mountains again once the party was over with. But I could have lived without his snobby expression and when he returned a little while later and plunked our half-filled glasses down with unceremonious dismiss, I made a mental note to leave an equally dismissive tip.

  “Cheapskates.” Marcie growled, eying her less than generous portion of cola with disgust.

  “It's usually expected to drink alcohol at these kinds of functions,” I explained, “High society and all that jazz.”

  “Uh yeah, not when you're going to be driving later.”

  I raised my glass and she followed, “To smart driving.”

  Clink!

  I glanced around me curiously. So far, I hadn't really seen anyone I knew too well. It was mostly people from other departments that I had very little contact with. However, once I actually started to look around, it didn't take long to spot Mr. Davidson, my boss, walking arm in arm with a tall, curly haired blond woman. Her dress would put many a humble bikini to shame and left very little to the imagination, especially if she were to turn around to pick something up. I cleared my throat and glanced cautiously at Marcie, who seemed to be lost in thought and didn't notice.

  Mr. Davidson noticed me, however, and immediately homed in on my location, dragging his apparent wife along with him. Mr. Davidson was a tall, yet slightly rotund man, built in an almost perfect pear shape like a babushka doll. However his face was refined and even somewhat elegant, his beard kept tightly trimmed against his chin and melding with his equally groomed mustache. His jolly eyes squinted as he beamed at me, approaching my table, “Ah, Mr. Weaver! How good of you to come!” he exclaimed with gusto.

  “Thank you for inviting me, sir.” I said, standing and offering my hand. He took it, about jostling me into two pieces as he shook it vigorously, “You're still so new, this might as well be a welcoming party.” he joked, “You should try the salmon cakes here once the food comes out. They're scrumptious.”

  “Uh, thank you.” I said, making another mental note to avoid them at all costs on account of intense dislike of seafood.

  “And who's this lovely young woman?” Mr. Davidson proclaimed, turning to Marcie. She looked up from the table and smiled somewhat unconvincingly as she stood up, offering her hand, “Hi. I'm Marcella,” she said stiffly, “I'm his wife.”

  I watched in apprehension as Mr. Davidson took her hand much more delicately than he had mine, leaned down and kissed it gently, “A true pleasure to meet you.” he said warmly, “Welcome!”

  “Thank you.”

  Mr. Davidson laughed, a deep, guttural sound as he turned to face me, “She's a looker, Weaver. How'd you two meet?”

  “Oh, we've actually known each other since we were kids. Our parents were employees of various types for a traveling fair and we'd spend our summers riding in one of the motor homes together with our families.”

  “That's quite the unusual upbringing.” Mr. Davidson said, blinking in astonishment, “How long have you been married?”

  “Officially or off the books?” Marcie joked. This caused my boss to burst out into laughter again, even though that was one of Marcie's somewhat weaker quips.

  “She's witty! I like her.” Mr. Davidson burst, “Hey, Mr. Weaver, I've got an idea. Your wife here is quite amazing. What would you say to a wife swap?”

  I started laughing, “I'd say you're off your rocker, sir.” I chuckled.

  “And what would you say if I said I was serious?” he asked, his grin never leaving his face.

  My laughter died in my throat and I fixed him with a stern stare, “Excuse me?”

  “She's a real find, son. I'd love to see what you saw in her. How about it? I'll trade you Marcella for Trudy here. Just for about a month or so. I'd hate to steal her from you.” he said, opening his arms to 'showcase' his lady-friend, who seemed entirely nonchalant and oblivious to the whole thing. Marcie meanwhile looked about ready to be sick and was making a slashing motion against her throat, as if she honestly believed I'd go for it. I cleared my throat, “Ah, no thanks, sir. I'm quite happy with my own wife, thanks.”

  Mr. Davidson appeared somewhat downcast, “Too bad. Trudy doesn't say much, but she's got a great mouth.” he said before shrugging, “Eh, whatever floats your dinghy, son. Looks like the food's coming out, now. Best fill a plate before it's all gone.”

  He patted his waistline as if to demonstrate a point before striding off, Trudy in tow. I sat down with Marcie again and she shuddered, visibly disgusted, “Okay, that was horrifying. He actually wanted to trade the two of us like baseball cards, Steve.” she whispered in a silent panic.

  “Yeah. Oh, and thanks a lot for the vote of confidence, Marce. Did you seriously think I'd agree to that shit?”

  “Just playing it safe, Stevey.” she chimed, leaning forward and giving me a quick peck on the cheek, “Forgive me?”

  “Quit giving me the puppy eyes and I'll think about it. Want some food?”

  “Not from here.” she said incredulously. “Help yourself. I'll pass. This fancy-shmancy stuff turns my stomach.”

  “Maybe we can grab something er...tastier on the way home.”

  “I'd even settle for Mickey D's over this crap.” she giggled. I had to laugh at that.

  I stood up, pushing away from the table, “Okay, I'll just get a roll or something to tide me over until we leave.”

  “I'm gonna go look out the window, Steve.” she said, getting up and smoothing her dress down.

  I watched her head to the other side of the room, her long, curling black hair waving delicately behind her as she moved. While a part of me was a bit flattered that Mr. Davidson had found her that attractive, most of me was disturbed and a bit skeeved out, especially at the fact that he was serious. I was tempted to rethink my employment with this company, but a small portion of my mind nagge
d at me, reminding me of how Marcie and I had been struggling to make rent and pay bills. A brief image of the two of us chatting over a dinner of tuna and potato chips flashed into my head and I cringed. We had savings leftover from inheritance from both our parents, but it wasn't going to last much longer. We needed steady income and Davidson/Crump Corp. promised to provide what we needed.

  I had no choice but to make it work. But as I glanced back behind me at Marcie standing by the window, I felt my heart swell a little bit as a smile crept its way onto my face. I relaxed marginally. I was with my best friend, the girl-turned-woman that I'd always known I wanted to be with. I wasn't facing this alone.

  We had our whole futures waiting for us. I wanted to make it work.

  Chapter Two: Marcie

  I could hardly believe the view from the lodge. I could see practically all the way back to town from here. It was incredible!

  I brushed my hair out of my eyes and folded my arms, dearly wishing for my coat right now. The room was a bit cooler than I would've liked. Or maybe I was still creeped out by Steve's boss's offer. He'd actually been serious. What a freak! He actually wanted to trade wives! I could hardly believe that Steven was willing to work for a scuzzball like that. I was half-tempted to persuade Steven to quit that job once we got home, but I knew how much we needed the money. Besides, I smiled as I remembered how excited Steven had been when he came home, swept me into his arms and proclaimed that he'd been hired by the biggest marketing firm this side of Seattle. And to top it off, he'd been brought in as a general manager right on the spot. It was truly incredible. His salary alone was enough to keep us warily in the black for a few months until our savings were allowed to build up again. For the first time, I felt relaxed at the idea.

  I sighed, biting my nails absently as I reminded myself that this was for the best, and that Mr. Davidson couldn't be allowed to get between us and this new-found success.