Hot Coffee Novels & Stories

Little Miss Spitfire bursts through the door again, her face pulled up in a tight grim. I am sure she is trying so hard to not scream at me. She bounces forward, stretching the cup in the air. I grab it and take a sip. “Good one.” I say, and continue typing. The coffee tastes great; the right amount of sugar fits in. Coffee is dark and bitter, but with enough sugar, it covers the bitterness so all that remains is just the sweet savour on your tongue. “Sugar is healthy.” Her voice chirps in my head, her smile flashing through my memory.

For ten years, I’d been a devotee of solitude. “I’m thrilled!” I faked enthusiasm, steadying my voice. “I know what can cheer Gabe up,” one said, laughing, leaning back in his chair with a pen in hand. “Coffee.” “Coffee!” another laughed, excited. “Gabe needs coffee.” “I don’t need coffee,” I said seriously. “In fact, I haven’t had plain coffee in a while.” I admitted. “But you’ll like *this* coffee,” a third chimed in. “Because it’s served by none other than a hottie.”

Till they see the work we put in to get to where we are, and also maintain it. Coffee. I stand, stretch, and cross to the small counter by the window. The pot is cold; I reheat it in the microwave, watch the dark liquid swirl like storm water. Bitter, burnt, perfect. The first swallow scalds my tongue and jolts a little clarity into the haze.

I hadn’t seen a bird in years, so I took the time to appreciate its presence before heading to the alpha's office. The aroma of tea meets my nose as I wander downstairs, only to find Killian already wide awake. He and Seffy, sipping hot liquid from a mug. “Tea?” He asks in a funny accent. “They even have fresh coffee!” Killian exclaims. “Like real coffee, not that old shit from a can, Killian drinks,” Seffy adds, blowing on her mug. “Isn’t it too hot for warm drinks?” I question turning my nose up at the offer.

I’d lost count. Young Master Henry was still there. Perched on the same bar stool, sleeves still rolled up, scotch long gone. He hadn’t touched a single cookie. I don’t even know why he’s making me bake so many cookies so early in the morning. “Thirteenth thing,” Young Master Henry said, checking his watch. “Coffee.” I looked up, wrists aching from the mixer. “Young Master, it’s four in the morning.” “I’m aware.” He stood, finally, and stretched. The movement pulled his shirt taut across his shoulders. “French press. Black. No sugar. The beans from Colombia.”

“I won’t let anything come between us. And that’s a promise.” * “I told you this would be a success.” I grab my coffee from under the register. It’s cold now, but I take a sip anyway. I can easily reheat this with magic. I duck down, popping off the lid and holding my hand over it. It heats back up in seconds.

Malea's POV "I need a large coffee. Black, no cream, no sugar, brewed to 202 degrees Farenhieght." I handed over the 50 dollar bill that Lucian provided every time I bought him coffee and spun around to take a seat at a booth while the coffee brewed.

"Don't you have other staff? Don't tell me you're the one who prepared this toast and coffee?" "This is a small motel sir, and it is only I who is working at this time." He sipped the coffee and coughed after. "This is too bitter. Bring me another one. Add sugar and milk." "Why don't I just bring milk and sugar and you can add them to your coffee, sir?" "It would already be cold at that time. Don't worry, you can charge me for the two cups of coffee. You can leave now."

“I don’t know how you like your coffee, so please tell me how to do it correctly for the future.” He eyed her and grabbed the mug before taking a sip of the hot liquid. It was very sweet, which he didn’t usually prefer, but it had a spicy taste, and the smell had a pleasant aroma. “What is this?” She wouldn’t look at him when she replied, “Cinnamon spice. I added some sugar to sweeten it.” He only nodded and set the coffee down. “Is it okay? Or would you prefer something else?” Tarrin looked back at the notes and answered, “I haven’t decided yet.”

He picked up the intercom and called the secretary, he ordered her to get him a black coffee. His secretary knocked again and she brought him the coffee as requested. Eric thanked her and drank the coffee but spit it out immediately. "Do you call this a coffee?" Eric asked with angry eyes. "Sir, it is the coffee you requested, it is actually as you want it," the secretary pointed out as she saw the content of the coffee on the floor, it was obvious it was black as he wanted with little milk and maybe a cube of sugar. "Why isn't it warm?" Eric asked.