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“Zoe can come for pizza instead,” I said. “As long as she’s wearing trousers.”
Elena looked at me for a full three seconds. Then she threw back her head and laughed, and typed it word for word.
Zoe replied with a single gif of a pizza on fire.
Twenty minutes later I was sitting on the sofa in my jeans and an old jumper, having been permitted to dress, eating a slice of pepperoni while Zoe told us about the guy she’d been seeing who owned a ferret. Elena was beside me with her legs across my lap. Every time I reached for another slice, her hand slid higher up my thigh. Zoe noticed. Zoe noticed everything.
“You two are filthy,” she said, around a mouthful of crust.
“We’re having a quiet night in,” said Elena.
“You’ve got him wired like a bomb.” Zoe finished her wine and winked at me. “Next weekend. I’m free. Just saying. I’ll bring the prosecco and my own safeword.”
“It’s marmalade,” I said.
“I’m going to need a better one.”
When the door finally shut behind her, Elena was off the sofa and in front of me before I could draw breath. She pushed me back against the cushions, unbuttoned my jeans and sank down onto me in one slow, wet slide, her forehead against mine.
“Good boy,” she murmured. “Pizza and promises.”
I came with her mouth on mine, and the pizza box going cold on the floor.
Ending 16 of 16: Pizza and Promises. Go back and try a different choice for the full happy ending.