Hot Barista Novels & Stories

The hot coffee smell hits my nose and I think I'm already satisfied. "What will you like to have" The barista that appears to be a highschool student smiles at me sweetly, revealing his perfect dentition. Oh no! I forgot to brush my teeth. "I'll have two skinny cappuccino to go please" "Tall or grande" he leans on the counter still smiling. Please don't do this right now, in your front is an angry girl that just had the worst morning and is ready to explode at any slight provocation. "Tall"

Trevor added, flashing a quick grin before the two of them walked toward a vacant table near the center of the room. I stepped up to the wooden counter, my palms slightly damp. "One iced Americano, one caramel macchiato, and a black coffee, please," I told the barista. "That will be just a few minutes," she replied, tapping the screen of the register. As I pulled out my wallet to pay, I leaned in slightly, keeping my voice low. "Hey, out of curiosity... did that guy who rented out the whole place yesterday come back in today?" The barista paused, blinking in thought before shaking her head. "No, he hasn't visited today."

She leans her towering and well-built frame over the counter. Bartender: Welcome! What can I get for ya? She chirps with a smile. Halo Noel: Bramble, no blackberry garnish. He smiles at the woman. She finishes his drink and presents it to him with a dramatic flourish. Just then Karim Abdel steps up beside him. His suit fits him like a glove, displaying a man who spent a third of his life in the gym. Though, unlike Halo, he's Arab, tall, and older. Every bit of handsome the room can carry.

"This? As someone with access to your contract paperwork, I know you make enough to afford drinks somewhere that wasn't around when the Boston Tea Party went down." "Sorry they don't do espresso martinis or whatever the hell. Here, no hockey fans bother me. If anyone gives me shit, Betty ejects them." He nods at the bartender. She's a gray-haired older woman with a full sleeve of tattoos, who certainly looks like she could single-handedly kick a whole hockey team out of her bar. I sense I've lost this battle. I retrieve the folder from my bag, placing it onto the sticky table. I know Jax is trying to mess with me. But despite my optimism, I'm not afraid to put up a fight.

The vibe was soothing, and the manager, a 35-year-old lady, was easygoing. "We need a bartender. Hours are from 7 p.m. to 2 a.m. Staff dorms are on the third floor. There isn't much work. Most guests go to private rooms to negotiate deals. Just serve drinks to walk-ins, otherwise, do your thing," Susan Hayes said, taking me upstairs to the club owner's office. She knocked and led me in. Behind the desk sat a man, sipping champagne. Glasses were scattered around. "This is our boss, Mr. Bennett," Susan introduced.

Rainwater slid down his throat and disappeared under the crisp white shirt clinging to his chest. Lord have mercy. The man was built like punishment. And he smelled… God, he smelled expensive. Like cedar, smoke, and bad decisions I suddenly wanted to make. I narrowed my eyes. “If you’re a reporter, I swear, He lifted one dark brow. “Do I look like I chase stories, princess?” The barista (purple hair, her name tag reading “KAYLA <3”) slid two shot glasses between us without being asked. Tequila. Top-shelf. The good stuff that costs more than my monthly rent used to be.

he said "No I'm not.." "Because if you didn't you would have barfed saying shit about Seth but instead you're willing to fight for your man." "Stop it.." I yelled already flushed. "What do you say Seth? " Erwin nudge him at the shoulder but Seth ignore him. With a vivid stare I spat. "I hate you..." the barista gave us all our own cup of beverages, I had sweet tea the chocolate kind. I slowly pull it close to my lips. "Jokes apart Quinn you've been here long enough out of all of us who's the hottest." I almost choked on my tea.

I also admit that his voice is beautiful. It's like the tone of a professor who is teaching and you just want to shed your pants because of how cold, full, and nice his tone is. "Ma'am, here we go!" called the barista, so I approached, but I also looked at the male customer while laughing. I don't know what I'm doing. I just want to tease him. "One iced coffee with ten shots of espresso, miss." His eyes widened and his face wrinkled at what he heard.

That also means my favorite café is near my house. The café smells like heaven. Caramel lattes and baked pastries. Warm air greets me as I push the door open. The moment I step inside, I notice the barista behind the counter, flipping cups and steaming milk with effortless skill. He’s tall, sharp-eyed, and somehow manages to look composed even as the place bustles with the morning rush.

The bell chimed soft, welcoming. Inside was warm, the air thick with the smell of fresh grounds and baked muffins. A few tables scattered around, mostly empty this time of day. The barista behind the counter a young guy with tattoos peeking from his sleeves wiped down the espresso machine, looked up with a nod. “What can I get you?” “Black coffee. Large. To go.” He poured it quick, steam rising from the cup as he snapped on the lid. Handed it over. “That’ll be $3.50.”