The bathroom stall door banged shut behind us, and Sam’s mouth was on mine before I could even catch my breath. His hands fisted in my leather jacket, shoving me back against the tiled wall as he kissed me hard — all tongue and teeth and hunger. I groaned into his mouth, grabbing his hips and pulling him flush against me. We’d done this a hundred times: quick, dirty make-outs between classes when the need got too sharp to ignore.
“f**k, Ethan,” Sam panted against my lips, grinding his hard c**k against my thigh. “You taste like trouble today.”
I smirked, biting his lower lip. “That’s because I am trouble, baby.”
We made out like animals for another few minutes — hands roaming under shirts, hips rolling, low moans echoing off the tiles. When the bell rang distantly, we finally broke apar
