Pasta Pick Up Lines Novels & Stories

"Orders for you from Mr. Gallo." I raised an eyebrow at the two menus she placed on the table quietly. Rumor has it that this luxury club does not only serve good alcohol but good pasta as well. Pasta and a white-colored drink were in front of me. I frowned at her. "It's apple juice," she said. I opened my mouth and grunted, realizing Jonas had also ordered this. "Thank you," "Enjoy." She bowed and walked away from me. I carried the bowl of pasta carbonara closer while checking my phone. Hannah's message was the first one I clicked. Where are you?

My hips quake and jerk and he smiles edge-ways at me. He leans in close to me again, working my inner muscles all the while "You're still not coming yet. But this is your last appetiser. You get the main course soon." And with that, he pulls free, wiping his hand on the immaculate white linen napkin. He dabs at his mouth with the napkin, talking behind it. "You're drenched, Kirstie. Wonderful. How's your pasta?" My pasta? Ohhhh... Godddddd... *****

“I don’t have anything special planned.” “Would you like to have supper with me?” he asked with another dazzling smile that warmed her down to her toes. “I would love to,” she said suddenly, glancing downward when she realized how eager she sounded. “Great. Do you like pasta?” he asked as they walked into the lobby of the hotel. “I love pasta, but I don’t eat it much. It’s not very good for the waistline.” She bit her tongue as she tried to put a halt to the malfunctioning filter between her brain and her mouth. She looked up into the dark eyes that traveled down her slender body and felt a strange tingling in her inner thighs, when his eyes began inspecting the area of discussion.

I called to Bianna. She lifted one pepper like a toast. “Bless.” “I want pasta,” Max said without looking up. “I want the twirly kind,” Issa said. “You want whatever I give you, and you’re going to pretend it was your choice,” I answered. I went back inside, washed my hands, and opened the fridge.

I said finally. "Same as always," Sebastian said at the exact same time as me. We both burst out laughing at the same time, our voices echoing together. "Pasta with extra garlic bread!" we said in unison, giggling. Sebastian grinned. "I knew it," he said, shaking his head. "You're so predictable." I playfully rolled my eyes. "Hey, it's a classic for a reason.” Sebastian grinned. "You always order the same thing when you're feeling stressed," he teased. "I remember how much you love their pasta dishes when you're feeling down."

"Wow! That is below the belt, Miss Patterson. I'll ruin you for that, and I'll make sure to—" "Yeah, yeah, go now," she rolled her eyes, "I want some pasta and some fresh juice. And some steak. Some dessert, maybe a donut or a chocolate cake or—" "Do I look like a waiter to you, Amaya?" She gasped. "Woah! Of course not. You’re that cook, remember?" "Mockery doesn't suit you well." "At least you know what mockery is; just make sure not to overdo the pasta." As the pen picked up tempo again, he chuckled, snatched a hairpin, and laid it on the stack of paperwork in front of her before heading for the door. "Hey, Miss Patterson, should I add ketchup to your pasta?"

Patrícia finally relaxed in his arms, feeling her heart gradually slow. He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes and, with a gentle smile, tried to change the focus of the conversation. “How about we go to a pasta restaurant today?” he suggested in a lighter tone. “I need to see you smiling again. And no one can resist good Italian pasta.” She let out a weak laugh. “Are you trying to win me over with food now?” “Always. It’s my new strategy,” he replied with a charming smile. “After all, they say the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach.”

She’d say yes for the same reason she always did. My phone buzzed. Tommy: What time? Hook. Line. Sucker. I shot back a quick reply. Me: Seven. Casual. Nothing fancy. Then, just to really drive it home: Me: Anything you and Beth want me to make? Or are you both okay with whatever I come up with? The dots danced across the screen as he typed. Then paused. Then started again. Tommy: She likes that lemon pasta shit. The same kind you used to make with the capers.

She said proudly, "I'm hungry. I want spaghetti!" What could Ambrose do with a drunkard like her? He had no choice but to search everywhere for spaghetti. Seated in a pasta eatery, Ambrose stared emotionlessly at all the spaghetti laid out across the table. Larissa nudged him and winked at him. "Hey, handsome. If you could finish all this spaghetti, I'll sleep with you tonight!" Ambrose's gaze deepened. "You promise?" Larissa affirmed him, "Of course!" Ambrose silently picked up the fork and began to indulge in the spaghetti.

“Uh, your friends arrive tomorrow as well? I say, hoping to avoid the topic of Danuel coming. She nods. Well, at least I have her to myself tonight. Tomorrow she would be wrapped up with that punk. “It’s almost five, is someone making dinner?’ “Uh…no, I was hoping you could cook tonight, I mean if you don’t mind.” She flashes a smile, and once again, my heart and my decision to give up on this love waivers. “No, I want to. It’s the least I can do after you got me a castle. What should I make?” I grin. “Your world-famous Rasta Pasta.” “I don’t know about world-famous, but definitely Zayne obsessed; wait, do we have the ingredients?”