Try that pleather!

Karina Shay found the suitcase while straightening up. Black pleather waited inside. She slipped the pieces on and caught her reflection in the hallway mirror, all curves bound in glossy black. Footsteps sounded at the door. Jamaica stepped in, saw her standing there in his private stash, and the temperature in the room jumped. Embarrassment flashed across her face for half a heartbeat before his hunger erased it. He closed the distance, sank to his knees, and ran his tongue along the skin where pleather ended and warm flesh began. Her breath hitched. He licked lower, tasting her through the stretched material, hands gripping her hips. Every slow stroke of his tongue made the hallway feel smaller, tighter, hotter. Before long the clothes stayed on while the rest of them tangled together right there on the floor. Bodies met, slid, locked. The pleather creaked with each thrust, echoing off the walls.