RESIDENT EVIL PIERSHERRY

Chapter 25

AS THEY HURRIED through the hallway, Sherry's body tingled with
anticipation. Piers had barely touched her, and she was already completely
turned on.
He unlocked the door and let them into their room, tossing the key on
the desk in the corner. As he did his usual check, Sherry noticed that
housekeeping had turned down the beds and had left the lights on dim. She
set her purse on the nightstand.
She turned to face him when he finished, thinking that if he didn't kiss
her soon she might suffocate from all the sexual tension in the air.
She expected him to pounce and throw her onto the closest bed.
He didn't.
Piers folded his arms across his chest. "So I've been thinking about
your Walls of Jericho. Actually not so much about the wall, but about the
other part. Where I show you how a man undresses."
The temperature in the room rose so fast the glass on the television
fogged.
Sherry exhaled. "All right. I'm watching."
First, Piers took off the Pierset of his suit, exposing his gun harness. He
quickly removed that as well and set it on the desk. His hands moved to his
tie. He loosened the knot and pulled it off, and Sherry had to fight the urge
to storm over and yank the rest of his clothes off him.
There was a glint in his eyes as he made no move to undress further.
"Sorry, but this is the twenty-first century version."
"What happens in the twenty-first century version?"
"You lose the dress."
Well, then.
"There's not much underneath," she said. She'd had little choice with
the way the dress was cut.
"I'm counting on that."
Sherry reached for the zipper that ran along one side and inched it
down. Without dropping Piers's gaze, she then untied the halter around her
neck. The dress fell in a pool at her feet. She faced him wearing nothing but
her black silk thong panties.
And of course, her high heels.
Her nipples tightened in the cool air of the hotel room. Or maybe it was
just Piers's look.
Lust clouded his eyes as he took in every inch of her, and she had
never felt more sexy--and bold--than she did right then.
"Your turn," she said.
He undid the buttons on his shirt and peeled it off, revealing a tight
white T-shirt that showed off his firm chest muscles.
Sherry was aching to get her hands on him. As if sensing this, he
crossed the room. Her pulse skyrocketed as he approached, yet he still didn't
touch her.
"Now you," he said.
She reached up and removed the antique-silver chandelier earrings
Amy had picked for her, dropping them to the floor beside the dress.
"That's cheating," Piers said.
"You have four times the clothing on that I do."
With one swift tug, he yanked his T-shirt over his head. "Better?"
Hell . . . yes.
Sherry took her time, savoring the sight. The hard muscles . . . the
tight, six-pack abs . . . the light scattering of dark hair on his chest. . . . She
wanted to taste every inch of him.
Then, briefly coming out of her daze, she noticed something else. Of
course.
She had forgotten about the scars.
Three years ago she had read the files that contained a very detailed
report of the hell that Martino's men had put Piers through during the two
days they'd held him captive. But she hadn't thought about the physical scars
that kind of hell would've left behind.
Her eyes took in the cigarette and electrical burns by his right shoulder,
moved to the knife wounds along his side and under his ribs, then came to a
stop on the quarter-sized circular scar high on the left side of his chest--from
the bullet he had taken when making his escape.
Sherry raised her eyes to Piers's. He was watching her carefully, to see her reaction.
She stepped forward and rested her hands on his chest. She gently
kissed the scars on his shoulder. She did the same to the one on his chest,
and after that bent down to run her lips over the scars under his ribs and
along his side. Then, unable to help herself, she ran her tongue along the
soft trail of hair that started at his navel and disappeared behind his belt
buckle.
Piers pulled her up and stared into her eyes with a ferocity that would've
scared her under any other circumstance. He guided her backward, and
when she felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees she needed
no encouragement to lie down on top of it.
"You still have a lot more clothing on than I do," Sherry said, rising
onto her elbows.
"I can fix that."
She watched as Piers undid his belt buckle, then the button on his
pants. His eyes feasted on the sight of her lying on the bed before him as he
unzipped his fly. She caught a brief glimpse of gray boxer-briefs just before
he slid them off with his pants, socks, and shoes. Then he stood before her in
all his glory.
She would never, ever compare him to a molten lava cake again. After
seeing Piers's naked body, all other delicacies were henceforth ruined for
her.
Of course, her eyes were drawn to that part of him, the part that was
big and hard and raring to go. All for her.
Piers climbed onto the bed, and she lay back. His dark, fiery gaze made
her shiver with anticipation, yet he still didn't touch her.
He nodded to her near-naked body. "You choose what's next."
Did he want her to beg? Because she was nearly at that point. "God,
Piers . . . touch me . . ."
He smiled.
He was the devil.
"Choose," he repeated.
"I'll keep the shoes," Sherry said defiantly.
"I was hoping you'd say that." His hands moved to her hips and tugged
her panties down her legs and over her shoes. Then his mouth started at her knee and slowly made the opposite journey, up her thigh, along her hip, her
stomach, the V between her breasts, her neck, and swept down on her
mouth. She moaned, finally able to kiss him. His arm slid under her back,
and he pulled her up so that she was sitting on his legs, straddling his hips.
"You're so beautiful, Sherry," he said, running his finger along the
side of her face. "Despite everything that happened, over the last three years
there were so many times I would lay in bed at night, thinking about you."
"What did you think about?" she asked, sliding her hands up his chest.
"Doing this." He pulled her breast into his mouth. His tongue glided
over the tip in a wet, silken caress, and he licked and sucked until she
thought she'd go crazy. Then he moved to the other one, her nipple already
hard and tight, begging for his touch. Gently cupping her breast, he drew the
rosy peak into his mouth.
She started to rock on his lap, desperate for more. While his mouth
continued its assault on her breasts, he slid his hands around her hips. One
hand cupped her bottom while the other slid between their bodies. His
fingers stroked their way to the core of her, opening the soft, wet folds. When
he found the center, he teased her with his thumb, massaging back and forth
until she was shaking. He slid a finger into her, and then another, and she
gasped as his fingers slowly drew in and out, and again, finding a rhythm that
nearly sent her over. She cupped his face and pulled him up, kissing him
hotly.
As his tongue tangled with hers, she slid her hand down his chest, past
his stomach and lower, where her fingers found him hard and throbbing. She
wrapped her hand around the thick shaft, reveling in the sudden catch in his
breath.
She began stroking him. "Did you think about this when you used to lay
awake at night?" She ran her thumb over the engorged head in smooth
circles.
He closed his eyes and groaned. "Fuck, yes . . ."
She slid her hand down to the base and cupped him as she whispered
in his ear. "Did you think about me using my mouth, too?"
"Christ," Piers muttered, and before Sherry knew it she was on her
back with him kneeling between her legs. He yanked off her shoes before
she could protest. "As hot as those pointy heels are, I've got enough scars on my body,"
he told her, his breath quick.
"I've got condoms in my nightstand," Sherry said, so ready she was
practically panting.
"So do I. Many."
"Let's get one of them. Now."
Piers reached over and yanked the drawer open, nearly pulling it off the
track. He quickly found what he was looking for, and the sound of a wrapper
being ripped open was music to Sherry's ears.
"Let me put it on you," she said urgently.
"If you do, this might all be over before we get started."
The sight of him rolling on the condom got her even more worked up
and she began arching her hips, needing him. "Piers . . ."
He moved over her. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her
head. "I'm right here," he soothed in her ear. She felt him between her legs,
hot and hard and ready. He inched into her slowly, filling her.
"Spread your legs, baby--let me in," he urged. She did, and he moved
deeper into her, then deeper still, and began a slow, tortuous rhythm. He
held one of her hips with his free hand, gliding in and out as he pinned her to
the bed. She took his achingly smooth thrusts again and again, and he
brought her right to the edge, then backed away, holding her suspended
there for what seemed like an eternity. She moaned his name, frantic to
touch him, but he held her wrists against the bed. He slowed and withdrew
from her nearly all the way, teasing her with shallow thrusts.
"Please, Piers . . ." she finally begged.
He let go of her hands, and when she looked up she saw that he was
as close to losing it as she.
"Wrap your legs around my waist," he rasped.
She did, and he plunged all the way into her.
"Oh God, Sherry, you feel so good," he groaned.
She slid her hands up his back and tightened her legs around his hips,
urging him deeper, needing him to fill her the way only he could. Her breasts
crushed against his chest as he pounded into her, harder and faster, then he
shifted his hips, hitting the spot that would drive her over. He slid his hands
underneath her bottom, holding her against his thrusts. He stroked her possessively. "I love being inside you, baby . . . For
three years I've wanted to make you mine. Now I want to feel you come
around me."
That was all it took. Sherry gripped his shoulders and cried out as
she reached her peak and exploded, holding on to him as wave after wave of
pleasure crashed over her. Piers pumped long and hard as the throes of her
orgasm gripped him tightly, and he followed her over. She opened her eyes
just in time to see the moment when he surrendered all control, her name a
strained whisper on his lips as he shuddered and moaned and thrust deep
one last time before crashing down on her.
They both lay there, trying to catch their breath. With his head buried in
the pillow next to her, muffling his voice, Piers spoke first.
"Wow."
Sherry turned her head, pressing her cheek against his.
"My thoughts exactly."
FOR ONCE, PIERS was glad he had a hard time sleeping for more than
a few hours at a time. He woke up, saw that it was still dark, and checked the
clock on the nightstand. Not even 4:00 A.M.
Sherry lay on her side, curled against him. Both of them were naked.
After their first round, she'd slipped on her underwear and his shirt, a look
he'd found extremely sexy, especially when paired with her tousled hair. So
sexy, in fact, that--well, he'd warned her what would happen if she wore
those kinds of outfits around him . . .
He worried that he'd been rougher the second time around, although
he held her mostly responsible for that, too. As if wearing his shirt and black
silk panties hadn't been bad enough, after he'd stripped them off her she'd
pushed him onto his back and used her mouth on him in what had to have
been the single greatest torture he'd ever been subjected to. She had licked,
stroked, and teased until he'd been so completely out of his mind that he'd
flipped her over onto her knees and taken her that way, not stopping until she
moaned and cried his name and collapsed onto the pillows.
He couldn't get enough of her.
It scared him a little, because he'd never before felt this way about
anyone. Nearly thirty-five years old, he wasn't exactly innocent--he'd slept
with his fair share of women, some he'd even met while working undercover.
But all of his relationships had been casual--and he'd made that abundantly
clear going into them. In the past, he'd always used his job as an excuse to
avoid getting serious with anyone. Now he realized that with the right person,
he wouldn't want an excuse.
Piers leaned in, whispering her name softly. He knew he was a greedy,
selfish bastard to wake her up, but he loved the reassurance of their
intimacy, what it said about their relationship without either of them actually
having to say it. Not to mention, it had been a couple of hours and she was
lying next to him naked. He could either sit there in the dark with a hard-on,
or he could do something about it.
He said her name again, and she stirred. He rolled them both over and
kissed her neck as they lay on their sides. His mouth wandered down the
slope of her breasts, and he worked his tongue around one of her nipples.
Sherry woke up with a smile. "Hmm . . ." She ran her hands over
him, sighing as she caressed his chest and stomach. Her hands dipped
lower and found his achingly hard erection.
Her eyes opened mischievously. "We're there already?"
"It just seems to keep getting this way around you."
She slid one knee over his hip. "I like it this way."
Not needing any further encouragement, Piers reached back and got a
condom from the nightstand. After he rolled it on, he grasped her hips and
slowly sank into the warm, wet depths of her. He cupped her ass with one
hand and rolled his hips back and forth in a smooth, unhurried rhythm.
When he heard her gasp, he paused. "Is it too much?"
She closed her eyes and moved her hips against him, urging him
deeper. "It's perfect. Feel free to wake me every night like this."
Piers bent his head and kissed her.
He should be so lucky.