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She lifts a mini zeppola from the plate between us, confectioners' sugar floating to her fingers. "Am I supposed to put this whole ball in my mouth all at once?" she asks with a devilish smile.
Ignoring the twitch in my trousers, I answer, "You better. Otherwise, the custard will squirt out and things could get very ugly."
She giggles, doughnut poised over her open mouth. "Shit, don't make me laugh. I could choke."
"Death by zeppola," I quip, taking one for myself.
"Here goes nothing!" she says, setting the treat onto her tongue and closing her lips around it.
A/N: Death by zeppola continues...