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  Copyright © 2020 Kaylene Serafina

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Pierce Serafina

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  Pierce, my partner in crime, my Dom and my husband, I love you with all my heart and all the other parts of my body too.

  Thanks to Alexander Krivitskiy for being the absolute best photographer.

  A HUGE thanks to Belle and Sirena for being wonderful editors and never letting me know they were anything but turned-on by what I write.

  And, of course, to ALL my FANS who love to read about happily ever after stories in which my brains (or someone else's) are fucked out and, sometimes, up!

  A Word To my fanS

  I’d love to hear from you!

  What did you like about my story?

  Why do you like romantic erotica?

  Who do you relate with the most in my story?

  What would you like me to write about next (I’ve got a lot of experience to draw from)?

  When do you read erotica – at work or home or in a closet in the dead of night?

  And... anything else you want me to know – HINT: flattery might get you mentioned in an upcoming book.

  Send me an email at:

  [email protected]

  Hot Like Coffee

  Book 1

  Mike & Traci's Erotic Adventures

  Kaylene Serafina

  The Beginning

  Hot Like Coffee

  Traci’s voice was sensual… like the buttery softness of daffodil petals landing on my skin – light, cool, refreshing and with just enough presence to scatter goose bumps along my flesh as she emptied her words of affection in my ears.

  It was hard to believe she was mine and I was hers. The road to finding her had been arduous but it was definitely worth it. My story isn’t much different than almost anyone who has searched for a soulmate – with the sole exception that in the past sixteen years I’d made more money than almost anyone has a right to. I’d lost the first love of my life to cancer when we were both only 33 and, since then, I’d been mostly alone. Well, not exactly alone – I had thrown myself into my business life and allowed it to consume me. It, along with a number of distractions (rock climbing, marital arts, my two dogs, cooking, and learning more about Shibari bondage), had become my mistresses. But, eventually, I wanted to find a woman to make part of my life once more.

  Anyone who has ever lost a partner can tell you that finding another is complicated and frustrating. It’s even more frustrating when you have money – especially lots and lots of money. When I was a teenager I’d dream of what it would be like to be a millionaire so I could attract the attention of supermodels and the like. Of course, that was when I had more pimples than experience. Experience had taught me at least three things that I wouldn’t have ever expected to be true: 1) Money really does not equal happiness. 2) Most women – maybe guys too – think that money does equal bliss. 3) Being certain that the partner you choose isn’t with you because of your money is more nerve wracking than losing millions of dollars in the stock market in a matter of minutes. At least with money all you’re losing is numbers on a piece of paper or a computer screen. When it comes to losing someone you care about you also lose part of your heart and soul.

  But, 184 days ago (six months to the day), I met Traci and my life changed. Tonight was our anniversary and I was so excited to be here with her.

  The song we had been dancing to as I held her in my arms had ended. My eyes were closed but I could sense the looks of others as I held onto my lady. I didn’t care. For the last three minutes she had been my world. Now, in the transition between songs, I hoped I was hers.

  I felt her cheek begin to lift away from my face and I prepared myself for the distancing of our bodies that was inevitable. But it didn’t come. Instead, I felt the soft warmness of her cheek brush against my own and, without ever breaking contact, she kissed me.

  Me!

  The beautiful dream of a lady my arms were wrapped around kissed me… warmly, passionately, completely. Then, as if the band had never stopped, she swayed with me as they began playing once again.

  I doubt she would remember the first time our eyes met. I could never forget.

  March 4 wasn’t a particularly cold day so I’d gone for a walk just to clear my head. The past year or so was almost a blur because I had made the decision to walk away from the business world and take a few months for ‘me time.’ So, I packed up the apartment I hadn’t really lived in since Elle had died, purchased an airplane and sold everything except my stock and stock options in Infinity Band Radio™ (we – or rather ‘they’ – make high end Bluetooth® capable speakers and other electronics that are used by sports stadiums, luxury hotels and, at last count, a few million people around the world – almost all of which are relabeled by another company whose name I’m not allowed to reveal because of an NDA I signed). Then I, quite literally, walked away – I gave my car to Jenny – a janitor who’d worked at the IBR for longer than most of my employees had been alive – and stepped into my new life carrying only a ‘going away’ cupcake.

  I didn’t realize how much of my life and my personality had gone the way of the dinosaurs until that day in March. I’d always been the ‘don’t take no for an answer’ kind of guy. Hell, I’d met Elle during a party in Manhattan and when she’d first turned me down (at the tender age of 20) I’d taken her by the hand, pulled her out onto a dance floor and began to step on her toes until she agreed to go on a date with me.

  Needless to say, she eventually fell for me, I become a much better dancer and we started IBR together just before she developed cancer. She used to say I was a ball buster back then and I’d have to agree. But, her death had nearly ruined me in every aspect of my life except for business. Undeniably, my attitude had mellowed with age but I’d also lost a lot of the spark that made me who I really am.

  So, when I happened to walk by a woman whose perfume caught my attention and I followed behind her like some kind of stalker, I couldn’t have been any more surprised at myself if I had woke up that morning and decided to give myself an impromptu sex change operation with a dull butter knife. Nevertheless, that’s what I did – I followed her from store to store until she finally went into a place to have her nails done. After she disappeared behind the door to the nail shop, I realized something about myself – I hadn’t gone up to her because I was scared to ask her out.

  How could I, the man who’d once laughed in the face of a guy wanting to mug me, be afraid of this woman? But, that's where I was.

  I took a break from life after that and stayed at my apartment with Arm and Hammer (my dogs), only going out when they needed to be walked, for nearly three weeks.

  Then, the day I’d ventured out once again, who did I happen to see as I sat drinking a cup of black coffee… the same wonderfully perfumed lady – with beautifully manicured hands.

  I don’t even like black coffee and the only reason I’d been drinking it that day was because they’d ran out of French vanilla creamer. I swear, even though I’ve never been superstitious, from that day forward I drank the same type and size of coffee and sat in the same seat (sometimes wai
ting an hour until someone moved out of 'my chair') just hoping to see her walk back in. Each time she did I tried to screw up the courage to talk to her but I couldn’t. I’d lost my mojo.

  All of that changed on the fourth of March.

  We were sitting in ‘our’ coffee shop – the smooth, rich scent of roasted beans coupled with a delightfully light fragrance of vanilla and warm hazelnut wafting through the air – when she looked up from the book she was reading. There was no reason for her to look at me and I’m quite certain she wasn’t looking for me but she did look in my direction. A sound over my shoulder had caught her attention and she gave a short, sideways glance in my direction. The look was only for a fraction of a second. No more than a heartbeat. But, when her brown eyes met mine, I felt a warmth explode in my chest – like the warmth you feel when you drink a hot beverage after coming inside from breathing frigid air.

  Her glance was so quick it had caught me completely off-guard. Frankly, I was more than a bit embarrassed that she had seen me staring at her. Still, I tried to smile at her.

  Too late.

  She’d already gone back to her book. Whatever or whomever she was reading about was decidedly more interesting than me.

  More in line with my ‘old self’ I didn’t slump lower in my chair in despair. Not that day. I clearly remember thinking, She didn’t acknowledge you because she had no reason to.

  The internal struggle as to what I should do next was intense.

  Had I been James Bond I would have simply picked up my coffee, made my way to her table and, with a smoothness that would make Don Quixote’s Lothario pale by comparison, I’d have said, “Pardon me, if you wouldn’t mind I’d like to sit here and look at you forever.”

  But, I wasn’t a fictional international spy whose writers could concoct any number of reasons a woman as beautiful as she was would respond positively to me – regardless of how lame I sounded.

  No. I was Joe Reality. And reality had taught me that women as beautiful as her aren’t attracted to men who look like me – unless they know how many zeros my bank account has. I know I’m a bit on the short side for a guy and while I have a decent physique I’m nowhere close to being a bodybuilder. In other words, I’m not anyone special.

  Still, that day something was different. Maybe it was the coffee. Maybe it was that I remembered Elle hadn’t been attracted to me at first either. Or it might have been the fact that I’d seen her at the same coffee shop a total of seventeen times in the past four weeks and I wanted to know her by something other than ‘Skinny Salted Carmel Mocha.’ Then again it might have been… well, who knows what it was. It didn’t really matter because I decided, rather abruptly, to do something about my situation.

  Picking up my coffee, I tried easing out of my chair only to hear it grate against the floor with a sound I can only describe as that of a cat whose tail has gotten caught in a screen door. Actually it couldn’t have been that abrasive (even though it sounded like it to me) because no one appeared to notice. Thank god!

  I took a deep breath. My legs didn’t move.

  I took another deep breath and, under my breath, told my legs to move.

  Still, no movement.

  I began to wonder if the reason my legs weren’t responding to my commands was because I could barely hear myself think over the pounding of my heart – which seemed to have suddenly transitioned from the middle of my chest to somewhere between my eardrums.

  I sat back down.

  Reflexively, I looked over at Ms. Skinny Salted Carmel Mocha. Good. She was still there and none the wiser to my aborted attempt to make my way to her table.

  I started to take a sip of my coffee but also aborted that attempt because my hands were shaking and I was afraid of spilling it on myself.

  Closing my eyes I drew in several deep breaths. Deep, deep breaths. So deep I could feel the buttons on my shirt digging into my chest.

  I relaxed. A little.

  What the hell am I doing? I thought. I’m at least 15 years that woman’s senior.

  Before doubt could take hold and cement my butt to my chair for the remainder of the afternoon, I rose from my table, took my coffee (holding my hand close to my body to keep from sloshing it on myself and the floor) and walked to the edge of the beautiful woman’s table.

  For long, long seconds I stood there and she didn’t look up. Realizing she might be subconsciously mistaking me for someone simply studying the drink menu that was front of me – even though it was some twenty feet away – I moved a bit to her right.

  I was no longer in the direct line of sight to the drink menu. That was good.

  My body was now casting a shadow across her table and book because I was blocking the light from the windows that bordered the door. I reasoned that was an even better placement of my body because people always look up to see what has changed in their environment.

  I stood stock still. Almost afraid to move because I was in the perfect ‘she'll notice me now’ position.

  Still nothing. Either she was ignoring me or the book was highly engrossing.

  I watched as a finger appeared in front of me. The finger was on my hand and it began lowering itself towards the table at which she sat. I found myself utterly surprised that the finger was my finger!

  My finger gently tapped the top of her table.

  Brown eyes looked up at me and a questioning, but polite, smile greeted me.

  I stared at her eyes. Just stared. I didn’t say anything. In fact, I don’t think I was thinking anything either because I was… mortified.

  What the hell was I thinking? I was finally able to ask myself as the woman tilted her head to the side.

  A moment after her lips had stopped moving I realized she’d said something to me.

  The bass drums that had replaced my heartbeat pounded in my head.

  Desperately I tried to recall what I knew I must have heard her say.

  For a moment I thought I’d heard her ask something akin to, “Jets so feed ring?”

  But that made no sense.

  Hurriedly, I tried to rearrange the words in hopes she wouldn’t get the idea from my silence that I was a peculiarly dressed mime.

  Then I figured it out.

  She’d asked, “Yes? Do you need something?”

  Good god! I couldn’t believe she’d actually spoken to me. Even more unbelievable was that she apparently expected me to answer her… coherently!

  Unable to think of a proper response, I settled on using the line I’d thought of a few minutes before.

  “Would you mind if I sit here forever?”

  The words tumbled out of my mouth. Oddly, they didn’t sound anything like they had in my head. Then I realized they weren’t the same words I’d had in my head.

  I replayed what I'd just asked and… oh my god! I’d gone from being a respectable, if ill-dressed, mime to a complete moron.

  Unexpectedly, she giggled.

  “Sure,” she said through a smile that spread across her face.

  “Thanks,” I said and sat down before I made an even bigger fool out of myself.

  She smiled at me and giggled again.

  I giggled (I know, guys aren’t supposed to giggle but that’s what I did).

  Then, we both laughed at the same time.

  I have no idea what made us laugh but we did. Maybe it was the absurdity of the situation. It might have been that I looked funny or maybe she’d been reading something comical in the book and I reminded her of it. Whatever the reason, we both laughed like we’d known each other for years.

  A few seconds after we’d stopped laughing I held out my hand, “I’m Mike. Hello.”