Step Dancer

What’s inside this very naughty taboo story?

19-year-old Claire Jones is a spoiled brat. The man of the house is a billionaire and a bit of a control freak, but in the wake of a tragedy, he’s let her get away with murder. When he finally puts his foot down about her bad behavior and cuts her off financially, Claire skips off to the local strip club to show him that she doesn’t need his money to make a living. And when he comes to get her, enraged by her actions, she rubs it in his face that all she needs is her young, sexy body to get by.

But the man of the house has had enough of her mouth. He’s going to show her what bad girls get. If she wants to act like a dirty brat, he’ll treat her like one and take her hard and without protection until she learns some responsibility, even if that means putting a baby in that tight little belly of hers.

Turn the page, and let me sweep you away into a world of dirty fantasy… - Nikki

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The Billionaire’s STEP Dancer

Claire Jones was having the time of her life. That wasn’t what she was calling herself tonight, though. Tonight she was Star, as in the star of the show, the big-earner, the girl everybody wanted to be. Tonight, Claire—or Star—was shining bright.

She gave a spin around the pole and giggled, staring out over the stage at the men crowding around her. They came in all shapes and sizes, and all ages too—over eighteen, of course. The only thing they had in common, it seemed, was a burning desire to throw as much money as possible at her. That wasn’t something she had a problem with. In fact, it was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

Not that it really mattered how much they spent. It wasn’t money she was really after. It was validation. Landis Jones, her stepfather, was a billionaire and an uptight dickwad who thought if he took away her money and toys, she’d bend to his will.

But that wasn’t the case. Claire could make her own money. She could reap her own success. And she was about to show her stepfather in the most humiliating way possible.

She writhed, wriggling her body down the pole, her back to it as she opened her thighs toward her adoring audience. Hoots and hollers filled the air, along with quite a few fives raining down on her like lazy leaves drifting on a warm wind. The twenties would come later when she was in their laps, grinding and shaking her pasty-covered tits in their faces. That was always where the real money was. Even if she was new, Claire knew enough to know that.

It was just her luck that she spied a man not far away from her holding up a twenty over the heads of the rest of the crowd. He waggled it enticingly and Claire grinned, crawling along the stage on her belly and biting her lip as she batted her lashes at the man slowly moving forward through the throng.

“Hey there, handsome. What’s your name?” she began, but the words died in her throat and she choked as she realized who it was.

Oh, fuck. Daddy?

“Well, hey there, princess,” he growled. The club lights made his brown eyes look red. “Or should I say Star?”

Claire swallowed hard. The men around her stepfather began to disperse, moving on to other strippers who didn’t come with quite so much baggage. She blushed fiercely as a wide pit opened up in her guts.

“Can’t you just leave me alone?!” she hissed at him, pushing herself up into a sitting position and covering her tits with her hands. “You wanted to teach me a lesson about what happens when I disobey you, right? Well, guess what? I can make my own money. I can buy my own things. I don’t need you telling me what to do. I can do just fine on my own!”

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. None,” her stepfather continued, grabbing her arm and hauling her off the stage. She yelped, but to her surprise, none of the bouncers rushed to her aid. She scowled. He must have paid them off. “You may think at nineteen you know everything, Claire, but I assure you, you are laughably mistaken.”

“What the hell were you doing in a strip club, anyway?” she sneered, trying to pull away. But his grip was too tight. His biceps flexed and she stopped, knowing it was futile. “If what I’m doing is so wrong, then why were you here watching me do it?”

Landis yanked her so close to his body that she almost collided against the firm slab of his chest. She stopped just short, looking up into his dark, smoldering eyes as he lowered his voice so that only she could hear.

“If you don’t get in the car, so help me God, I will bend you over my knee in front of everyone at this club.”

She stared at him, defiantly at first, and then as the creeping realization that he really wasn’t kidding washed over her, she slumped her shoulders.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “I’ll get my coat.”

Ten minutes later, Claire slouched in the backseat of her stepfather’s Audi, glowering out the window at the city lights. It was late, but there were still people out and about, and she could see that many of them were about her age and doing exactly what they felt like. None of them had an overprotective, psychopathic stepparent looming over their shoulders to ensure that every activity their adult child engaged in was parent-approved. They were all so free, while she was trapped with Landis, the man who wanted her to have exactly no fun at all.

She glared at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He wasn’t even looking at her. He made her feel like she was some kind of prize to be won, like now that he had her, he’d put her back up on a shelf and forget about her all over again. What she wanted didn’t matter. It was all about him.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asked her once he caught her staring. She pulled his peacoat tighter around herself and looked away, returning her gaze to the window once more. She didn’t want to satisfy him with an answer. No matter what she said, she knew it would be wrong.

As she clutched the material enveloping her scantily-clad body, Claire realized how in-shape her stepfather was. She was young, lithe, and curvy where it counted, and yet still the waist of his coat draped nicely over her. It was big in the arms and in the chest where her father’s broadness was more defined and his thick coils of muscle gathered and bunched. She’d seen him wear it before, knew how it complemented his powerful figure, but she had no idea how he did it. The man was in his forties, yet save for the touch of gray bleeding through at his temples, he looked not a day over thirty-five.

It was just one more thing that he used to his advantage. People liked a powerful, handsome, well-dressed man. It wasn’t until they got underneath it all that they began to have second thoughts.

; Her father was harsh. He could be cruel. Claire knew in her heart that he did it because he thought he was helping her, in some twisted way, but that didn’t really make it any better. And now she couldn’t help wondering what he had in store for her as they pulled into the driveway of his gated, ostentatious house.

He pulled around to the front and stepped out, allowing one of his drivers to take his place at the wheel. Then he opened the back door and yanked Claire out, escorting her up the steps to the great double doors of his personal palace.

Her clear-soled heels clicked noisily on the marble, echoing in the vast emptiness of the entryway. The whole house was like that, cavernous and devoid of life. Ever since her mother had died, the house had seemed so barren, as if she had been the only thing bringing any light to the long shadows that Landis Jones cast.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded, instigating yet another futile attempt to wrench free of his grasp. “What are you gonna do, lock me in my room and ground me?”

Landis’s frosty gaze met hers from the corner of his eye. “No. That’s a punishment for children. Since you’re so certain you’re an adult now, I’ll punish you like one.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, there seemed almost to be a hunger in his eyes, a burgeoning flame licking at his dark irises. But then he looked away, pulling her up the stairs toward his study, the place she hadn’t stepped foot in since her mother died.

She felt the chill in the air as soon as she crossed the threshold. Landis let go of her arm and she sat on the chaise near the fireplace, clutching his coat tighter around her. She watched as he locked the door from the inside and strode over to his liquor cabinet, hauling out a bottle of honey-colored liquid and grabbing a tumbler to go with it. He poured himself a small amount, reached into his mini-fridge, dropped a few ice cubes into the glass, and then sat down on the sofa across from Claire. He ran a hand through his thick, mahogany-colored hair and sighed through his nose, loosening his tie before he took a long sip from his drink.

There was nothing but silence between them. For a long time, Landis didn’t even look her way. He didn’t look half as wrathful as he had before. Now he looked tired, deflated, as though this newest discovery about his stepdaughter had knocked the wind right out of him. They’d had a turbulent last few months. Maybe all their fighting was starting to wear him down more than she’d thought.

Claire looked at her feet. Letting herself cope by lashing out at everyone around her had been working out so well. Why did he have to ruin it by actually caring about her?

“So,” Landis said at last, his voice thick and raspy, “you think stripping is the way you wanna go, huh?”

Claire looked up at him finally. She wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, she wanted nothing more than to snap at him with some venomous comeback. On the other, no, she really didn’t feel that way. She’d just wanted to get even with him, to piss him off.

Torn between confessing the truth and telling a convenient lie, Claire went with what she was most comfortable with: being a brat.

“Why the hell not?” she sneered. “Girl’s gotta make a living. Especially with her stepfather tries to make her life hell.”

“You have no idea what hell is, little girl,” he murmured, taking another swig from his glass. As he looked around his study, she followed his gaze, remembering how he’d locked himself in here almost every night since her mother had passed away. It seemed to be his sanctuary, his safe haven. She wondered why he’d brought her here.

“Okay,” he said suddenly, jarring her out of her thoughts. “If that’s what you enjoy doing, you can do it. For me. Right now.”

Claire felt her jaw practically unhinge. She stared at him, brow furrowed, face screwed up in incomprehension. “Do what?”

“Strip,” Landis said, leaning back and crossing his ankle over his knee. He slung his tie back over his shoulder, freeing himself of its embrace. “Since you get so much out of it, and since I want so badly to see you happy, I figure I should give you every opportunity to do the thing you love most in this world.” He raised her glass to her as if saluting, and she felt a cold chill roll down each vertebra of her spine.

“You… you can’t be serious…”

“Oh, one-hundred percent,” he assured her, a twisted smirk playing at the corners of his lips. In the flickering firelight, it almost made him look devious, menacing. “It’s not like you’re not dressed for it, Claire. Or would you prefer it if I called you ‘Star?’ You seemed to like that name very much back at the club.”

“You’re sick!” she spat, standing up. “I’m not gonna strip for my father. That’s… that’s…”

“Stepfather, Star. I’m your stepfather, or do I have to keep reminding you of that?”

She couldn’t come up with the right words to tell him off. Nothing seemed to fit. She could call it “bad” or “wrong,” maybe, but there was something else to it too, something she couldn’t quite place.

Claire was a bad girl. She thrived on sin, on hedonism, on breaking the rules. And the rules said that daughters didn’t get freaky with their fathers, even if they weren’t related by blood.

And that made part of her want to do exactly that. Really, really badly.

She wobbled a little on her heels as her stepfather looked up at her. Despite the tempest of her outburst, he was so calm, so unmoved by it all that it deeply unsettled her. His Claire-colored eyes scanned her body from head to toe, staring with her long, wavy blonde hair and ending with her French pedicured toes.

“You can start with the coat,” he said. “I’m afraid I don’t keep a radio in here, so you’ll have to imagine there’s music playing in your head. I trust you can manage to think and twerk at the same time, yes?”

Claire opened her mouth to speak, but once again, his stare silenced her. She began to wonder if she couldn’t put him in his place in some other way. What if she could get him horny? Surely the embarrassment would force him to ease up on her, to leave the room in shame and give her the upper hand for once. It was a risky maneuver, but since her stepfather was showing no signs of letting up in his demands, she figured it would be the perfect opportunity to show him just how powerful she could be.

And she didn’t need money to do it. All she needed were her tits and ass and the hypnotic sway of her hips.

“Fine,” she sniffed, feigning humiliation as she tossed her stepfather’s coat onto the chaise behind her. She now stood in a short-sleeved button-down blouse and red plaid miniskirt, the outfit she’d chosen to drive all the men at the club wild. Underneath she had on only a thong and pasties, which her stepfather had already seen. But despite that, she saw him shift as he looked at her, as if noticing for the first time what a womanly body his nineteen-year-old stepdaughter had grown into.

Just as he’d suggested, Claire let the music play in her head as she began to move in front of him, using the mood lighting to her advantage. She’d been practicing this routine for weeks, and by now it was like second nature to her. She hardly had to think at all about what she was doing. She only had to stare into her stepfather’s eyes and watch him sip his drink.

She began working the buttons on her blouse with nimble fingers, taking her time inserting each one through the hole. She cooed with every one that she released, spreading the neckline of her blouse wide so that he could see her cleavage as she revealed it to him. Then she turned her back, shrugging the blouse off and wriggling her ass as she bent over to touch her toes, then popped back up, arching her spine and slapping her own ass as he lifted her skirt just slightly to reveal her sheer, naughty thong.

Landis cleared his throat slightly as she began to undo the Velcro holding the waistband of her pleated skirt together, whining softly as she dropped it to the ground and stepped out.

“You gonna teach me a lesson, Daddy?” she asked him, keeping in theme with her slutty schoolgirl outfit. She turned around, hands over her breasts, giggling softly as she went whole-hog and straddle

d her stepfather’s lap.

She was shocked to find an erection there. It pressed hard right into her crotch as she sat, and as her warmth washed over him, he grimaced and it throbbed. She could feel it easily through his slacks, and she tried hard not to react to it.

Holy fuck, she thought. It’s so big! Guess this means Mom really didn’t marry him for his money…

Claire purred, grinding against him, provoking his boner into a rage. She could feel it thrumming wildly now even as her stepfather pretended to ignore her antics. With every sip of his drink she felt him stiffen even more, felt his composure slip away as he began to breathe harder, faster, spreading his legs further to accommodate the growing girth between them.

She pressed her tits up into his face, wondering how far he’d let her go. Then she palmed them, crushing them between her fingers, brushing her thumbs along the pasties until one of them accidentally loosened and fell off, revealing the dusty rose hue of her pebbled nipple.