by Logan Jacobs
I crept back to the kitchen. “Woodhouse, I need a gun,” I said.
“Very good sir,” Woodhouse said. He used all eight of his tentacles to jab at the buttons on the ovens. The ovens slid down, and a cubby hole of guns popped out. “Will this be for sport or self-defense today?”
“Self-defense,” I said. I picked out a shiny purple gun that I knew boasted multiple “stun” phaser-style settings. If someone had managed to sneak into my room with murderous intentions, I planned to ask them a few important questions before I gave them what they deserved.
“Shall I summon the authorities, sir?” Woodhouse asked.
“Nope,” I said, “not just yet. Follow me just in case, though.”
Captain Har’Gitay might have been on our side, but I didn’t trust any random cops that might show up at the apartment not to be in Tyche’s pocket.
I crept down the hall without making a sound. When I reached the door, I held my stun phaser out before me, ready to fire. I closed my free hand around the knob and turned it slowly and soundlessly until the bolt was all the way in the door. Then I threw the door open, phaser at the ready.
“Marc!” The President’s daughter bolted upright from where she’d been reclining on my bed. She wore nothing but a pair of lace panties and a silky bra that matched the teal of her eyes perfectly.
“It’s okay,” I called to Woodhouse, “it’s just a friend who came to visit me. You can go back to bed or sleep mode or whatever you do to rest.”
“I do not sleep, sir,” Woodhouse called as he rolled back to the kitchen, “I am always on standby.”
The President’s daughter blinked at me in surprise as I closed the door behind me. “Were you expecting more terrorists?” she asked innocently.
“Kinda, yeah,” I said. I started to put the stun phaser on top of the bedside table, then thought better of it, opened the drawer in the table, and dropped the gun in. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have a few guns hidden around the apartment in strategic places just in case Tyche did decide to stop being subtle in his attempts to kill us. It was funny how a few months ago, I’d have been overwhelmed and possibly a little freaked out at finding a gorgeous and famous women nearly naked in my bed. Today, I was just relieved that I’d found a nearly naked woman in my bedroom instead of a fully clothed assassin holding a gun.
“You got all the terrorists, silly,” she purred. “And now it’s time for you to claim your reward.” She slid her delicate, slender hands over my abdomen and pushed up my white T-shirt.
“My reward, huh?” I murmured. I cupped her chin in my fingers and stroked her cheek with my thumb. “I think I like this a little better than a Presidential medal.”
“Oh, Daddy will have some made for you if you like,” she said. Her nimble fingers dropped to the waist of my jeans. “I just wanted to drop by and thank you in person. Properly.”
“Uh-huh,” I agreed ever so eloquently as she dipped a hand below my waistband. Now that the adrenaline rush from discovering a potential invader in my bedroom had woken me up again and then departed after realizing that there wasn’t in fact a terrorist lurking in the bedroom, other parts of my body were starting to wake up as well.
She flicked open the top button of my jeans, then took the tab of my zipper between her thumb and forefinger. I could feel the heat of her soft fingers on my throbbing cock right through my cotton briefs as she dragged the zipper down a tooth at a time.
“I got so wet when you came bursting through those elevator doors to save me,” she confessed. “I wanted you to rip off my clothes and take me right there in front of everyone.”
“Everyone?” I murmured as she tugged down my briefs. “Really?”
“I could make the entire Secret Service listen to us if I wanted to,” she said. “All those big, serious men having to stand there and hear how good you’re fucking me, how much I love it. Don’t you ever just want the whole world to know how good you are in bed?”
“I prefer not to advertise,” I told her. “I rely on word of mouth to spread awareness of my servicesssss!” I lost my capacity for words as she licked a wet line up the underside of my shaft. Then she wrapped her pretty mouth around the tip of my cock, and there were no words at all from any of us.
In just one day, I’d met my long-lost father, fought my way through Nakatomi Plaza, and rescued the President’s daughter. A beer with my dad followed by a blowjob from the most powerful woman in the free world was a perfect way to end it.
End of book 7
End Notes
Thanks for reading Arena 7.
I’m going to be ending the series next book. Main reason is that, when book 4 came out, Amazon’s “Also Bought” displays didn’t work, so not enough people saw the book was out. This caused sales to drop by about 80%. I wrote book 5 with hopes that all the readers who had missed me would see it was out and then pick up book 4, but book 5 ALSO never got also boughts to show up on the Amazon store, so no one saw that the book was out either. Book 6 actually did better, but at this point I’m losing money with every Arena book that comes out. I’d still like to finish the story, so please expect the next book to come out in a month or so. If you liked Arena 7, I’d super appreciate a review. You can leave one right here.
If you like my books. Hell, if you like ANY AUTHOR’S books, and you want to read more of them, you MUST follow them on Facebook, join their Facebook group, or subscribe to their newsletter. Amazon has stopped showing books to readers, so it is likely you are missing tons of books that your favorite authors are putting out, and it has gotten harder for them to pay their bills with their writing.
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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.
Copyright © 2019 by Logan Jacobs
