Page 4 of I'm Not Your Pet

I hadn’t felt this raw since the day A&R had dropped me off in this godforsaken place.

It was strange.

So fucking strange.

Because I’d spent the first portion of my life invisible—and now I was here, front and center. I’d been the object of desire for so many aliens I’d lost count. I’d been ogled, lusted after, and longed for.

But until this moment I’d never beenseen.

I’m scared.

It wasn’t a thought I’d allowed myself to have, especially not while working. It didn’t help. Just like mourning my old life didn’t. Just like being sad didn’t. I’d shoved those feelings down as far as they could go until they were buried beneath my observations, my notes, my excitement. But…unbidden, they rose to the surface.

I’m scared.

I’m scared.

Not of him. But of this place. Of these people. Of the fact that one day—if not today—those red, red doors would push open for me. It was only a matter of time before I made a mistake. Before it was my turn to face punishment. Withthatreminder and newfound determination, I tried to focus.

Shake your ass, Hugo. That’s what he’s here for.

Make him happy or today will be that day.

I peeked over my shoulder again—because I couldn’t help myself—to see that his attention hadn’t wavered. His cock was thickening up. At least…I thought it was? I hoped I hadn’tmessed this up already. We’d kinda had a moment, but again, I wasn’t sure if that was agoodthing.

I felt naked, in more than one way.

Trying to find confidence again, I stopped jerking my ass like a red-capped manakin performing a mating dance and grabbed on to the pole.This would be better.If I was spinning, I couldn’t keep looking at his face—couldn’t see the way he watched me. I could build up the mood again.I could salvage this.For both of us.

Make him happy.

Don’t fuck this up.

Put on a good show.

The cold metal of the pole was familiar enough to be comforting as I latched on tight. The sweat on my hands made me slip more than usual, but I still somehow managed to climb higher anyway. Up, I went, swinging round and round.

The walls and floor blur, blur, blurred as I swung in arching loops. The music reached a crescendo. The pole stuck to my bare, sticky skin, clinging to the back of my knee and the inside of my elbow as I swooped down. Breathless, my toes dragged across the floor before I swung my legs high all over again.

I’d never conversed with a shark-man before. Four-thumbed aliens, yes. Creatures with dozens of eyes, fur, and oddly shaped limbs. Beasts in every color of the rainbow (mostly.) Butnevera shark-man. Which was why I’d gotten so distracted by him earlier—not because of the way he looked at me. Nope. Totally not.

Spinning helped a little, but not enough. Every time I swooped around and he came into focus, it was like something magnetic pulled me in.

The floor was chilly against my bare feet when I dismounted. As I paused to catch my breath, my chest heaved. Inhaling greedily, I forced my hips to move to the beat again, dragginga hand down my torso and watching enraptured as the shark-man’s animalistic eyes followed the movement.

The spots that decorated the top of his head, down his back, and across the backs of his massive biceps shifted colors again, slower this time.Was it like…a chameleon thing?Only that didn’t make sense, because the booth was white—and his spots very much were not. I tilted my head curiously to the side, as they shifted pink, pink, gray, gray, gray.

Huh.

Maybe it’s a mood thing?

And if so, what the hell did red, pink, and gray mean?

Hopefully at least one of them meant horny.

I’m scared.

The thought came back, and I hated that it did.

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