Hot Coffee Novels & Stories

"It minimizes the risk of someone poisoning it." Aaron poured the steamed milk into the second mug. Then he turned around and slid the mug across the smooth marble island toward me. I looked down. It wasn't coffee. It was a perfectly frothed hot chocolate, dusting lightly with cocoa powder.

For four years, I believed my husband was infertile. I gave up my own future to marry Nathan Cole after his grandmother begged me to save the man everyone pitied. I loved the little boy he brought home as an orphan, worked myself to exhaustion after his business "collapsed," and never once blamed him for the family we could never have. Then I discovered the truth. Nathan was never infertile. The child I raised was his own. His bankruptcy was a lie. Every cup of tea he made me was keeping me from getting pregnant while he spent our money on the woman he truly loved... and the three children they had together. He thought I had nowhere else to go. He never imagined that walking away would

Alex stood up and went to the corner to get a glass of water from the hot and cold water dispenser. He handed the glass to me, and I drank the water in one go. "Sweetheart, how about a hot coffee latte? It will warm your cold stomach," he suggested. "Yes, please!" I responded with a smile. A few minutes later, Alex returned to my side and put the mug on the side table. "Here's your coffee, sweetheart; drink it while it's hot." "Thanks!" I sat upright on the bed and began sipping my coffee. The hot liquid warmed my stomach instantly. "The coffee tastes so good!" I raved.

Perhaps a cup of coffee to kickstart my system. I heated the leftover coffee in the pot and poured it into a cup, adding full cream and sugar. Taking a slow, cautious sip, I winced at the slight burn on my tongue. Goodness, it was piping hot. I diluted it with cold water and tasted it again, nodding at the warmth. The peaceful silence enveloped me as I prepared to ascend the stairs, but the sound of a shower running in Luciano's room caught my attention.

He definitely was bossy with Sam, his housemate. "Cream, no sugar." "Where is it?" "Around the corner to the right. You'll find it." Funny, but I might have the flip side of the same fetish because it turns me on to fetch his coffee. Grateful for the expenditure of the manic energy that's ruling me, I slip out of his office and make the coffee. It's freshly ground beans from peet's and there's real half and half in the fridge below. I make myself a cup too, and head back, just as his secretary arrives. If looks could kill, I'd be twenty pieces on the floor. "Don't worry about his coffee," I say breezily.

"External." He looked at the fireplace. It was unlit. Mira had banned real fires after the kitchen incident. He looked at the coffee station. The espresso machine. "Coffee," Elion said. "Hot coffee. Hold a mug. It'll warm your hands and mess up the reading." "Caffeine elevates heart rate," Cale noted. "That helps." "Drink three cups. Give yourself palpitations. I don't care. Just look alive." He pushed Cale to the coffee station. He brewed a cup of dark roast. He made it scalding hot.

She skimmed it quickly. "Ding." Another email. Probably meeting docs, she figured. But the second she clicked it open, her eyebrows lifted in visible disbelief. Email subject: [Alpha's Personal Preferences Guide.] What the actual hell? She opened the cursed file. The level of detail? Straight-up insane. First cup of coffee: Ethiopian Geisha, natural process, exactly 20g, water at precisely 92°C. After naps? Japanese gyokuro made with 70°C water. Working past midnight? Sparkling water, exactly three ice cubes.

��𝘴𝘩 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘵, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳, 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 180 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦’𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬. 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘔𝘦. 𝘛𝘩�

I couldn't help but get excited about the fact that the smile on my face was not going anywhere anytime soon, and even if boss man decided to be a prick all morning, I wouldn't care because I have a date with my best friends tonight. As I entered the bustling coffee shop, I was instantly hit with the rich aroma of freshly ground beans and the gentle hum of conversation filling the air. I approach the counter, my eyes scanning the menu, before settling on her usual order, which is: a coffee with milk and 2 sugars for Gary; a hot chocolate for me; and a caramel mocha with cream on top and 2 sugars for Ebony. The barista, a young woman with an easy smile, greeted me with a friendly "Welcome to

Katherine handed Page her cup of coffee as she got into the car beside her. A waft of its sweet aroma danced around her nostrils, causing her to beam. What would I do without her, she smiled. In her hand was exactly what she needed. A cup of Nitro cold brew. She had made it a venti with sugar-free vanilla syrup, mocha sauce, an extra splash of oat milk, caramel sauce-lined cup, three shots of blonde espresso roast, cinammon powder on top with no whipped cream. Page was stressed and Katherine knew that at that time of the day, the higher Page's stress, the more caffeinated her drinks had to be.