Seducing My Stepbrother: A Forbidden Romance

By Cassandra Dee

Janie:

I didn’t know he was my stepbrother, I swear.

I was desperate for money because the tiny stipend from my dance school doesn’t pay the bills.

As a result, I stepped on stage at the club as a *different* type of dancer.

It worked because a handsome man made it rain. He owned my curves and paid me well for the privilege.

But what happens when we discover we’re related?

Mason:

Swimming in the Olympics is stressful. As a result, I went to the club to release some tension.

The curvy girl is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Janie’s lush and beautiful, with a sweet smile for the ages.

I paid her well for her time, and she made it worth my money.

But now, the curvy girl tells me that we’re related.

What my stepsister doesn’t realize?

That it doesn’t matter because I’ve already put my baby in her belly!

Hey Readers – Mason likes them feisty and sassy, and fortunately for him, the woman of his dreams has been right under his nose this entire time. Get your paddles out because Mason and Janie are making waves, especially when there’s an Olympic medal at stake! This book was originally released as Dripping in 2017 (has it really been that long?), and has been expanded and revised for your reading enjoyment. You’ll love it, I promise! Xoxo, Cassie

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Dee Romance
• Release date: Aug 28, 2021

Book preview

1

Janie

Iwas late with rent. Again .

Unfortunately, as a student at the Sheffield Dance School, I don’t have many options. The dance company provides a stipend to its students each month, but it’s not enough to pay for anything, really. As a result, around the first of each month, I start doing a dance. More specifically, I start dancing around to avoid our building manager because I’m going to be late with my rent for the umpteenth time. But one morning, Jimbo was lurking right outside my apartment door, ready to pounce when I stepped out.

Hey Janie, you got that thousand bucks? he leered, his face shiny and sweaty even though it was cool in the hallway. I swung my bag carefully over my shoulder, looking down at the floor. The stairwell was just a few feet away and I glanced at it longingly, hoping I could make a quick escape.

Umm, I mumbled, stalling for time. Can I give it to you tomorrow? I’ll have the money then, I promised.

Jimbo’s eyes lit up, probably because he smelled weakness.

You know I can’t keep making excuses for you, Janie, he sing-songed. Last month you were already late, not to mention the month before that. But tell you what, he said, his voice dropping to a hush. Come by my office later today and we’ll work out a deal, he said lasciviously. You have something that I want.

A wave of dread crawled over my frame and my stomach curled in on itself as Jimbo cackled hungrily. But I made myself swallow and shot him a smile.

Sure, Jimbo, I mean, Jimmy, I said with fake cheer before brushing past him to go down the stairs. I’ll come by later. You’re my number one priority.

Jimbo just chortled.

Tonight! he called after me. A thousand bucks or we need to find another way, girlie! I’m going to bend you over and …

His voice grew faint as I rushed down the stairs, before stepping outside. The building door slammed behind me and I took a deep breath of the chilly air. Oh God. I allowed myself to shudder after looking over my shoulder. The thought of getting personal with Jimbo was horrendous. His sweaty, flabby flesh slapping against me, and his grimy hands dirty from taking out the building’s garbage, grabbing at my curves. I was nauseated already.

But what options do I have? I have no money and the situation was desperate. I schlepped to school and dejectedly, entered the dance studio.

My roomie Monica was already there, stretching at the barre in a simple black leotard. My friend’s lithe figure was sinuous and elegant as she raised one arm high over her head in a graceful arc.

Hey girl, why the long face? It’s too early for that, she greeted with a smile. Monica is an early riser and often slips out before I was even up, leaving me with the apartment to myself.

But right, the apartment. I had to tell her about my problem.

I know I’m late with rent again, I said apologetically while staring at the floor. I’m so sorry. I’ll find the money somehow. Tomorrow at the latest, I promised.

Monica just frowned.

Is Jimbo making trouble again? she asked sympathetically. We were both struggling students in the city, and she’d probably had some run-ins with our super as well.

Mmm-hmm, I nodded, pulling on my leg warmers. I sighed. This pair had cost me fifty bucks and there was already a loose thread dangling at the edge. Damn, that was more money leaking down the drain.

But I had a plan. Even though my dad’s construction business wasn’t doing well, I figured I’d give him a call and ask. Maybe Frank could spare a thousand bucks. Or not.

Listen, you’re free tonight, aren’t you? asked Monica, interrupting my thoughts. We haven’t caught up in so long, so why don’t we do something together?

Sure, that sounds good, I mumbled, my face hidden as I bent over the barre, pulling at my hamstring. I was embarrassed at my poverty, to tell the truth, and didn’t want to meet her eyes. Besides, it was easier just to say yes and then later bail, rather than admit the truth, which was that I didn’t have any cash to go out.

But Monica merely smiled.

I’m just asking because, you know, I’ve been on-time with my rent the last couple months, she mentioned off-handedly.

I straightened to look at her, my eyes defeated.

Yeah, but I thought it was because you were dating that guy. What was his name again? I asked tiredly. I figured he was helping so you didn’t have to depend on the stipend we get from Sheffield, I said, gesturing vaguely to the studio.

Oh Michael! my buddy laughed. "No, there’s no way he could help. He’s a starving artist, and if anything I have to help him, and not the other way around. Besides, we’ve only been dating three weeks, so it’s nothing, she said with a wave of her hand. No Janie, I mean, have you thought about dancing?"

I frowned.

"We are dancing, Mony. That’s why we’re here." I shook my head, confused.

"No, I mean really dancing, she said, her voice low so that the few girls wandering in couldn’t hear. Dancing to get paid."

I shook my head again, puzzled.

"Mony, what are you talking about? This is dancing, I said, trying to be straightforward. We’re students at the Sheffield Dance School."

Mony rolled her eyes a little.

Janie, you’re so naïve. I mean dancing as in stripping. You know, taking off your clothes for money. It pays well and guess what? We’re semi-professionals already, so you can get top dollar for your work.

I stood back, stumped. Yes, the stage is my forte. I can stretch, bend, do the splits, and I was exceptionally limber from a lifetime of practice because I’d started classes at age five. But was what Monica saying true? Could we be highly paid strippers because of our professional background?

Sure, I’ve heard of girls putting themselves through school by stripping at night, but it’s a hard life to live. Jennifer Beals in Flashdance makes it look easy, but in reality, the girls are up at five a.m., trying to study before class. Then they dart to practice, before hitting the books again, and then show up at the club around midnight to shake their moneymakers. The movie makes it look saucy and adventurous, but I’ve seen it close-up and it’s no easy feat. It was exhausting, not to mention mentally draining.

I was about to shake my head regretfully, but then Jimbo’s leering face flashed before me again. I shook my head with dismay at the memory. That asshole wanted me to stop by his office tonight and I knew what he really meant. Without my rent, he’d be in my personal space again, brushing up against me and using his leverage as manager to force me to my knees.

I haven’t considered dancing, no, not really, but is that what you’ve been doing? I asked carefully, keeping my voice low while glancing about furtively. Good, no one was paying any attention. Does it pay well? I asked in a hushed tone.

Monica just laughed, tossing back her wild black curls.

Honey, it’s the best job I’ve ever had and believe me, when it starts to rain, you’re going to love it, she said saucily. Come on, come out tonight and I’ll take you where I’ve been performing. You only work a couple nights a week, and that leaves you free for rehearsals during the day. Besides, she said with a shrug, who can dance better than us? Sheffield represent! she said with a cheeky grin and fist pump.

I had to laugh despite my misgivings. Trust my roomie to make something sketchy and desperate seem fun. Besides I didn’t really have a choice and it wouldn’t hurt to try … would it?

2

Janie

Dubiously, I looked up at the sign above the building because it wasn’t exactly what I’d expected. Instead of a picture of a blonde giving a sultry look, or maybe a brunette with a come-hither stare, there were just neon lights tracing out the shape of a donkey chewing its cud. Even more, I could swear there were braying noises being piped out to the sidewalk, as a perfect accompaniment to the donkey.

Mony, are you sure? I asked dubiously, cinching my trench tight around my waist. This is the place? It doesn’t look very classy.

Oh yeah, absolutely, this is it, she giggled, giving her wild black curls a shake, primping in anticipation. Don’t worry about the donkey thing, she added dismissively. It’s just their mascot.

I sighed again. My sixth sense was going off, the sirens blaring in my head, but I shook my head resolutely and followed my roomie in. Unfortunately, I was desperate to make some cash and therefore ignored the alarms.

But when the doors swung open, I almost spun on my heels and left right then and there because the place was the worst dive. It was dark inside, but that couldn’t hide the sawdust on the floors, the smell of cheap beer, and the fact that the floors were sticking to our feet as we tottered in on our ridiculously high stilettos.

Mony, what the hell? I whispered as we made our way past some of the bar patrons. They were country all the way, with sunburned necks, weathered faces and one guy in overalls chewing a piece of straw. It was almost comical, like we’d been plunked down in an episode of Howdy-Doody.

But Monica shot me a warning glance.

I told you, she hissed. The clientele’s different but they’ve got deep pockets. Now come on!

She had mentioned something about the guys not being your typical Wall Street crowd, but I’d figured it just meant they weren’t slick investment bankers wearing thousand dollar suits. I didn’t think we’d drop to the bottom of the spectrum and be dancing for Farmer Joe and the ranch hands.

But Monica was already moving and I quickly ran to catch up with her, trying not to meet anyone’s eye. We made our way to an office in the back. The door was emblazoned with a big star made out of sparkly gold. Classy, real classy.

Monica knocked before testing the knob and finding it open, slipped inside before gesturing for me to follow.

A skinny guy sat up with a jolt, quickly slamming his laptop shut when we entered.

Didn’t your mom teach you to knock? he spat.

Oh please, Stanley, said Monica with an exasperated sigh. We know what you were doing back here, she said, nodding to a wad of bunched up tissues on his desk.

I could have a cold. You don’t know what those are for, the skinny dude protested.

Oh right, and I’m Mother Theresa, snorted Monica. "Come on, we know you’ve been wanking off in here. You’re not blowing your nose, it’s your load that’s being blown."

The language stunned me and the vulgarity was jaw-dropping, but I tried to hide my shock. Instead, I stood partially hidden in