by C. G Miller
The X-Perience Series
Book 1
Marked For You
C.G Miller
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Copyright © 2021 C.G Miller
Self-Published using Amazon KDP
Cover Design by C.G Miller using Canva
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN- 9798592943515
ASIN- B08WJXV6H1 (ebook)
Content Warning
This work of fiction contains elements of explicit, consensual sexual acts. Other features in this book contain rape, torture, blood, and death. Due to the graphic content, this book is 18+.
No cliffhangers with a HEA.
Letter To The Reader
If you’re reading this, then that means the content warning didn’t scare you off. Thank you for staying to read the first book that will pave the way for a dark romance series.
Welcome to The X-Perience Series. An elite underground world where all your fantasies come true with just a click of a button to live out an experience of a lifetime. Anything you want: Parties, sex, death, maybe love?
Sin and Pleasure,
C.G Miller
Contents
Playlist
Chapter 1 Kyle
Chapter 2 Kyle
Chapter 3 Cree
Chapter 4 Cree
Chapter 5 Cree
Chapter 6 Kyle
Chapter 7 Cree
Chapter 8 Kyle
Chapter 9 Cree
Chapter 10 Kyle
Chapter 11 Cree
Chapter 12 Kyle
Chapter 13 Kyle
Chapter 14 Cree
Chapter 15 Kyle
Chapter 16 Cree
Chapter 17 Kyle
Chapter 18 Cree
Chapter 19 Kyle
Chapter 20 Cree
Chapter 21 Kyle
Epilogue Cree
Sneak Peek
Acknowledgements
Also, By C.G Miller
Stay in Touch
About The Author
Copyright
Playlist
(Spotify)
Battle Born-Five Finger Death Punch
Here-Alessia Cara
Bad Company-Five Finger Death Punch
Chopin Piano Sonata No.2 in B Flat Minor-
Frédéric Chopin, Mikhail Pletnev
Hotel California-Eagles
Drinking Alone-Carrie Underwood
Dress-Taylor Swift
Enigma-Lady Gaga
Principles of Lust:Sadness/Find
Love/Saddness (Reprise)-Enigma
Formula-Labrinth
Sexxx Dreams-Lady Gaga
Often-The Weekend
Love Story-Lola & Hauser
Do I Wanna Know- Arctic Monkeys
River- Bishop Briggs
Desire-Meg Myers
Lovers-Anna of the North
Raindrops-PianoDreams
Waiting Game-Banks
Moonlight Sonata-Lola & Hauser
Hold-Vera Blue
“I am your bird, Cage me and lock me in your heart forever.
I’ll sacrifice my own life if that’s what keeps us together.”
– Farah Reza Naqvi
Chapter 1 Kyle
Hello. My name is Walker Kyle Thackeray. I am a twenty-two-year-old female. That’s right I said female. Now you are probably thinking my name is adorable for a girl. Well not quite. Picture a pregnant woman hyped up on crack. No matter how much she did, by the end of her pregnancy she was as big as a house and needed a walker. Thus, came me to be named Walker. Kyle isn’t too bad but, my dad was so high on coke that when he wrote it out, the e was meant to be an a so, came Kyle. And yada yada on my last name. Everyone calls me Kyle because that is more bearable than someone calling me Walker.
Home life wasn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Pun intended. But I got through it. Whether dad was on a binge or mom asleep on the couch, I managed just fine once I started walking. But, once middle school came around and everyone started focusing on me as the poor girl whose parents didn’t wash her, or comb her hair, or probably never came home when I was late to school because I had been up all night waiting for them, I changed my ways. Because, I no longer cared to play parent. I became a little more outgoing so my personality would be the focus and not my incompetent parents.
By high school, no one looked at me funny anymore. I paid attention to my hygiene, I combed my hair, and dabbled in some make-up. Even though my clothes were from a thrift store, I was able to grunge them up or down depending on what the item of clothing was to make it appear different. I didn’t want anyone to look at me and say, “that’s my old shirt.”
I got a job and started saving the minute I could. So here I am, stuck in a small-town where it’s either too hot or too cold, praying by chance I might hit a jackpot.
No such luck has come my way so far. I live in a tiny apartment off main street above the only bar in town. Once I had saved enough money, the first thing I did was get into this small apartment so, I could get as far away from my parents as I could. The feeling of accomplishment being able to do that was by far the highest of highs.
The market I work at as a cashier is nowhere near as big as a Walmart or Safeway. But, it’s a means that keeps people coming back. Being a cashier up front, I can see the entire store. Meaning, I get to watch everyone in this town on a daily basis. I sometimes imagine what their lives are like at home. I am not very sentimental or sugar coat anything. But, as hard or resting bitch face I seem to have, I still have an imagination which I am glad I was able to salvage while I was growing up.
I don’t have too many friends or actually any. All my friends from high school left right after graduation. Some went to college, others traveled, and now most have promising careers and are building their families. It’s just me left wondering when and if I’ll ever leave.
So, I decided to start writing down things I would tell a friend, if I had one. It’s three in the morning and I am writing in my composition journal. I lie in my bedroom slash living room and I wonder instead of crying poor me; how can I rise above this life and say I perfected myself and worked hard on my life to achieve my higher ambitions?
For now, I suppose, keep doing what I am doing and with determination I will push ahead.
My alarm is going to go off in the next hour or so telling me I have to go to work. I grunt at the minutes ticking by. The restless nights are never ending, turning into days that never end as well making me one tired woman.
I cross the threshold into the kitchen from the living room slash bedroom looking at the junk coffee pot I took off the side of the street wishing I had money to buy coffee. A hot cup sounds good right about now even if it was trash coffee. But, I grab my jug filling it with tap water and set it next to my backpack to grab on my way out the door to work. Might as well get a head start on this day I think to myself as I head back to my journal to jot some more things down before I leave.
If I had a best friend, what would I tell him or her? That I am still a
virgin. That I don’t care for drugs, but I don’t mind an alcoholic drink every now and then. Maybe I would get sentimental and talk about my parents, who still live on the edge of town that wander around trying to score their next high. I pretend not to see them and in return they do the same. Maybe I would tell a friend my hopes and dreams. A hope combined with a dream is to get out of this town. Someone will come through, see potential and take me away. Or maybe a man would sweep me off my feet. It’s really just wishful thinking at this point.
The girls that are still here that I graduated with are still holding onto the parties we had when we were kids. Like me, they didn’t do enough to get out of this town. Unlike me, they still hold on to a past time of being young. Being in my early twenties, I do have a lot of life ahead of me. But, I can’t let being comfortable in this town suck me old.
Using the handy internet searches, it tells me I have trust issues developed from a traumatic childhood which is why I refrain from fake people and meaningless sex. It also says that meaningless sex is a more go to for people with issues and says to continue with that outlook, so I don’t end up anymore damaged than I already am. I’m not scared of sex. I took health, saw some videos, just no one to choose from here. Either everyone is married, old, or an idiot.
The weather says it is going to rain for the next two days. Which on one hand is nice because it has been dry, and I love the rain. I like the low hanging clouds, the smell, and how it is not so bright. The rain for some reason makes me feel at ease and peaceful. But for many, they always talk about how rain makes them feel depressed. I don’t fall into that category and am glad I can feel centered when it rains.
On the other hand, as much as I love rain, I don’t have a car and when it rains here it gets really chilly. So, at seven am there will most likely be some frost on the ground and me bundled to the max making the mile and a half walk to work up main.
I brought the composition journal with me today. Seeing as I only interact with about twenty people a day and it’s Friday, I will be bored. We get more traffic on holidays. Across from my check-stand is the doors that are both the entrance and exit. The only one unless you are in the back taking the emergency exit.
I can see the clouds are coming right down to the base of the mountains that this little town is tucked into. Do you ever just watch nature? There is an elegant beauty in the pines as the misty fog blankets them. It’s as if I can see much clearer.
The birds are tucked away in their nests nestled into the side of a building. The rodents are tucked away with their families in a burrow. All of them are hiding to keep warm except for people.
People come in and out all day as if it were the end of the world needing last minute things to buy. Here I thought I would be bored. I let out an exhausted sigh as they come in and out, the breeze brings that small fresh hint of rain to my nose. A deep inhale and the scent clears the fog in my head wishing I could stand in the rain soaking up the freshness. And I am stuck in here, I snark in my head.
Here in this market.
Judy the bookkeeper asked me today what I was doing for Valentines in a month. She asks every holiday. My answer only slightly changes. At Christmas I told her I didn’t believe in Santa anymore. At New Year, I told her, new year same damn thing as the last year. With Valentines I told her I’m not up for V-D. She stared at me blankly and I had to explain that I don’t celebrate venereal disease. VD day.
She gave me a half-tilted smirk and pushed her short brown hair behind her ear continuing with gushing about how her new husband, mind you husband number three, was taking her to the Bahamas. He’s some corporate lawyer from the big city. She says they are married but, I would bet a hundred bucks that he has a family in the big city and that is why he only comes home to Judy on the weekends. She squinted her nose pushing her glasses up as she glowed with Cupid’s lovesick arrow in her heart.
The day continues dragging, Old man Henry came in today. Every afternoon at the same time he comes, grabs a red basket, and wanders the eight isles. When he checks out, he has one item, a strawberry cheesecake. He has been a widower for as long as I can remember. I imagine that it was his and his wife’s daily routine. They would tend the yard in the mornings laughing with glee. Him playing catch with the dog and her filling the bird feeder. In the afternoon they would treat themselves to a piece of strawberry cheesecake. Now I wonder if he comes in everyday to buy that cheesecake just to go home and stare at her picture that he has left on the table to then throw the whole thing away. Punishing himself for her no longer being there. That would be sad.
Then came in Rose. She is an elder woman that shops all eight isles. Her hair is silver and her frame small. She comes in everyday as well. I imagine she is a closet rich person. She always buys the same things. Dried fruit for her birds, six bottles of red wine, and a few frozen dinners. I picture her sitting at home, drinking a glass of wine, feeding her birds, and cursing to the bird as to why she never had kids. Asking herself if it was worth it to become estranged from her family? Poor woman is all alone but probably feels free.
I can barely see ten feet in front of me while looking outside now because the fog is so thick. The pines are now a dark paint blob hiding inside the fog. A few tourists came through asking where to find gas or a bathroom. They normally don’t buy anything. The ones that stop are the ones who forgot to blink. Otherwise they would have missed this place.
The walk home was just like the walk to work. Chilly and frosty. The music blares beneath my floor reminding me it’s a Friday night and the bar is in full swing. For how cheap the rent is, it doesn’t bother me.
Tilly the owner came from Vegas and wanted to make it there, but the competition was too thick. So, she settled for a quiet life in BFE (bum fucked Egypt) with the only bar and no competition. She has been running strong for four years now. I suppose we could be close since I showed up right after she renovated. She has half a block. One-part downstairs is the bar, I am above and off to the other side is her place. Tilly is laid back and down to earth. She wears her hair in a curly long bob, full figure, and she always has some sort of ribbon or bandanna wrapped around her hair making a bow off to the side. She always wears jeans and one of her multiple band shirts that she cut up to create a fringe look.
Banging comes at my door around midnight. Startling me and putting me on edge, I hesitantly drag myself out of bed. I am not asleep but for someone to come here is very odd since I have never had a visitor here.
Walking to the door in my black tank and red short shorts, I yell, “Hold your horses. I’m coming!”
When I open the door, I am shocked to see Tilly. “Do you know what time it is?” My voice is agitated.
“Do you work tomorrow Kyle?” She rushes.
“No. Why?” I say as I try to rub the darkness out of my eyes to acclimate to the brightness of the lights outside my apartment.
“Well a few college kids are staying at the rest area for the night, they are on a road trip. They all came to the bar tonight and I thought you should come mingle. Finally, people in this town your age. You should get out of this apartment and have some fun!” Her voice is more excited than what I am feeling. The irritation from her banging on my door to the anxiety of being around a bunch of drunk college kids has me less interested.
“I’ll be down in a minute.” Wait what did I just say.
Fuck!
Leave it to me to speak abruptly when my brain hasn’t even come to a conclusion.
Tilly claps her hands together, “Yay! First two drinks are on me.” She winks and I watch her stroll down the metal stairs with a clunk from her combat boots hitting each metal step.
With a long breath I close the door and head to my dresser to change. Why did I give in so easy?
Um I don’t know Kyle maybe you really need interaction with actual people and not some dumb composition journal. Shut up brain!
I should probably eat something. I shove a few Ritz crackers into my mouth, pull on my black bell
bottoms I wore to work, grab my gray thermal and then put on a blue hoodie. My hair is long and straight and doesn’t tend to get messy, so I put a quick brush through and grab my gloves that are missing the finger parts.
As I head down the metal stairs taking the walk past the long building to the front door, my fingers begin to shake. I will blame the cold and not my nerves.
I have never been one to go out to parties or be in social settings. I’ve always kept to myself since I graduated. So, my social skills are rusty. But, I can fake it right?
My heart beats faster as I enter the thick brown barn door leading into the bar. I haven’t been in here since I got the apartment upstairs. If I take the occasional drink it’s a six pack of beer in my fridge that lasts me a few weeks. I’m surprised to see the bar full on the right and the dance floor at the back full. What catches my eye more as I scan the room, the majority of them are college guys. Maybe six guys to every one girl.
Great!
Seems like a college retreat in here or spring break. Maybe I am overstepping on spring break because there are thousands of college kids at that and maybe forty-five in all in here not counting the locals. Which is more people I have ever seen in one area. Slowly making my way to the end of the bar, I spot an empty wooden stool to sit on.
Tilly is in her zone, pouring shot after shot with precision. Watching her intently at how she flips bottles around in her hand and carefully setting them back in their spot, then pushing the shots forward quickly has me in awe. Both her hands rest on the bar as she yells over the music, “Eighteen-fifty.” Tilly flashes a wide thank you smile, and her eyes notice me, so I flag her down.
“I’m only here for the two free drinks. I will take them now.” My tone is fun with a hint of sarcasm as I tap the bar.
