blood-read-horror-story:

“Why not?”

“Jimmy,” you warned, “There are people here.”

“Alright, baby.” Jimmy conceded but left his hand on your knee, softly squeezing. You stayed tense. He wasn’t letting up.

“Pass the salt?” One of the troup said.

You jumped abruptly. Jimmy’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh, dangerously close to your underwear.

“H-here.” You stuttered, handing the salt over.

You squirmed in your seat as you ate, conscious of Jimmy’s hand brushing against you edge of your underwear every so often. Your skin was flushed from embarrassment and slight arousal.

“Ya sure ya don’t want me to?” He smirked, pulling his hand away slowly, knowing you would break.