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.

Everything I built my life on for four years was a lie. Nathan Cole told his grandmother he was infertile. She begged me on her knees to marry him, and because she was the only family I had left after my parents died, I said yes. I gave up my own engagement for her. I became the devoted wife of a man the whole family pitied. For four years, I believed I couldn't have children. I mourned it quietly, never once making him feel less of a man because of it. I raised the little boy he brought home and told me was an orphan, loving him like he was my own. When Nathan's business "collapsed," I worked myself to exhaustion to hold our household together, feeding his family, carrying a debt that was

“You are running a bit of a fever. What helps more, hot or cold?” “Sam made me this mug of…something. It was hot, and that helped. So maybe hot?” Shuffling around, Finn pulled out a mug and gathered a couple of things from under the bar. After a few minutes, Finn set a hot, steaming mug in front of me. Sniffing, it smelled strongly of lemon and honey, but also had a bite of alcohol. “What is it?” “It’s called a Hot Toddy. It’s supposed to be good for colds and coughs. I think it’s just nice to warm up and has a little of whiskey in it.”

]- “Tell Maddox that I love him too.” -[“I will.”]- After wrapping up the call, a sudden awareness sweeps over me, like a cool breeze that unsettles the stillness. My gaze settles upon the half-empty cup of coffee perched beside my laptop. The liquid's warmth long faded. I frown, a sudden unease gripping me. A cup of coffee is a fragment of my routine, a prop in my decisions and responsibilities as a CEO and an Alpha. But now, it seems like a riddle, a forgotten piece of a puzzle I couldn't quite place. My fingers curl around the ceramic handle, the touch cool against my skin. The aroma of the coffee still lingers in the air like a siren's call that tugs at my senses. The liquid inside is a

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�