Drunk Peter Novels & Stories

I said. He nodded once and walked right behind me as we headed downstairs and out to the backyard. The sun was high, barely past noon. Peter was there, visibly drunk. He swayed on his feet near a broken bottle on the ground. Another empty whiskey bottle lay beside him. My eyes widened in shock. “What the fuck?! Peter it’s barely 12 in the afternoon and you’re drunk?!” The words almost came out fully, but I stopped myself. I surprised myself by how fast I controlled my emotions.

I stand and he shakes my hand and I leave. --- I text Vera from the car. *Paulson is thinking. Garrett is a yes. Come to the rink tonight — there's a side entrance on the east end, I'll leave it unlocked. Nine o'clock.* She replies in under a minute. *Why the rink.* *Because it's not the house and we need to talk without cameras.* A pause. *Richard has cameras?* *Front door, back garden, driveway. No interior. But the garden is covered.*

"Don't you think I'd know whether Ms. Sanders has siblings? Where the hell would a nephew come from? You'll say anything to climb the social ladder, won't you?" He gestured to his men. "Bring me some liquor." One of his guys immediately handed him a bottle of vodka. Rex twisted off the cap, grabbed my jaw, and started pouring it down my throat. The burning alcohol seared my throat as I choked, my face turning bright red while the liquid spilled down my chin onto my neck and clothes. Rex's expression turned vicious. "Drink it! Finish the whole damn bottle! If you dare spit any of it out when Ms. Sanders gets here, I'll throw you into the underground arena and let all the guys there have a tas

When Peter arrived, the house was dark. Jacob sat on the floor, dazed, surrounded by empty bottles. "Mr. Haag, you have to stop. Your stomach—this'll kill you," Peter said, kneeling beside him. Jacob shoved him away. "Whenever I got drunk, Yuna took care of me. If I get drunk enough... maybe she'll come back." He took another swig. The burn made his eyes water—but he kept going. Peter watched, helpless. 'If only you'd realized sooner.'

the third guy asked the first guy who chuckled. "I get to do the important job again,I just need a way to make sure we meet again,it's going to be hard but I can do it,the last blow I took to my head because of her still hasn't healed,that bitch owes me " Peter said groaning as he remembered what happened at the bar the last time. "Anyways good luck" he said standing up to join the rest of the guys that were enjoying their dick sucked off in the room.

He said as he lowered his angry face to my scared one with his breathe reeking of alcohol "you want it rough and I said I'm going to give it to you rough. What else do you want?" "Peter, stop, you're scaring me" I stammered "What is scary about me trying to give it to you rough?" He asked sarcastically before clashing his mouth to mine and bitting my upper lip I forced my tooth together as he was trying to get through them and tried to stay put even though I was scared "Peter, you're are drunk" I said between my teeth inside his mouth "Of course baby, I'm drunk in love with you" he replied as he pinned me to the couch with his hands trying to get access into my blouse

Peter took a step toward me, still chuckling, but I stepped back, putting space between us. "You should've seen your face," he wheezed, barely able to get the words out. I shook my head, trying to process the last sixty seconds. "You were dead just now, Peter! How the hell are you standing?" He smirked. "It was barbecue sauce. Mixed with ketchup." I blinked. "What?" "The blood. It wasn't real." I stared at him, my jaw tightening. "You faked your death?" He shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. "I was bored. No customers, no action. Thought I'd liven things up."

His gaze is firmly locked on her cleavage as Heather leans towards him, and is not paying attention to the information he is sharing. "Of course, I have all the records! I am even smarter than you could imagine and I would never let someone pull one over on me. And if they tried I would destroy them. That is what a man does," Peter boasts and brags and does not notice that he has spilled wine on himself.

Empty. When I pulled up to the bar, the 'Green Dragon,' it was already buzzing. Laughter spilled out onto the street, along with the clinking of glasses and the smell of stale beer. Peter was already at our usual corner booth, waving me over. He was a good friend, loyal and always up for a good time. "Kirk! Good to see you, you hermit!" Peter clapped me on the shoulder as I slid into the booth. "Heard you were playing nursemaid out there. Must've been boring as hell."

“I seriously don’t know what do.” “I suppose they are getting worried. You are twenty-seven. Not getting any younger, bro,” Peter said, heading to the refrigerator in the kitchen. He opened the door and rooted around among the various brands, searching for a bottle of Heineken. “Want one?” he asked over his shoulder. “Yeah, sure,” Jay replied distractedly. Peter took out two and tossed one to Jay. Six bottles of Heineken, two packs of Blue Bird chips, and four packets of Giant Cookies later, they were still contemplating the dilemma at hand.