Drunken Confessions Novels & Stories

Fedora pecked my cheek, running off. I knew she was chasing one dark haired girl because her eyes wouldn't leave her body. Lesbian thingy. Sighing, I sat at the bar stool ordering for something. The girl tried to flirt but I told her I was married and not interested. She rolled her eyes in return though, serving me my drink. Men, I didn't know who taught her how to mix drink but this drink was strong as fuck. Just what I needed. Suddenly the curtains at the end of the room, swiped open revealing a big glass with two girls inside.

You look terrible,” Leonard said from the kitchen. I turned to look at him. He had his arms crossed and one eyebrow slightly raised. “I’m fine” I said. “You’re drunk,” Byron said with a little amusement and I don’t know which of them is fucking wrong. “I am not drunk, just a little tipsy.” “She’s drunk,” Davis confirmed to the room, and I could hear the smile in it without even looking at him then he called my name. “ Eli…” Fuck! Don’t call my name like that!

"Mom, Clara sold our company secrets and still dares to join the contest." She pulled out a magazine, pointing to the rival's early spring collection. The designs were identical to mine. Ruth, who valued the company above everything else, panicked upon seeing this.

I smiled weakly. “Oh, right, Lexi called her to the balcony. She seems to be confessing to her,” Naza added casually and passed me a drink. “Get high and own it!” “Oh, shit. No way.” I dropped the glass on the table. Everyone knew how clingy and emotional I got when drunk. The last thing I needed was a drunken mistake with Jensen in front of all of them. I stood there for a while, telling myself to follow Naza back to the group but my feet moved on their own. Maybe she needs my help, I thought.

he explained briefly. My lips curled, embarrassed at how I talked about my mother while drunk. Any guy would lose interest in me after blabbering about how I hated Mom. Who would like to talk about their issues in life, especially when they were trying to escape from it? “Brody…” I murmured, looking at the ground. “Is gay,” Terrence continued and snorted, shaking his head when our eyes met. “There were rumors about him in our department, and that bastard began touching me, pretending to dance with you.”

“Hey, I’m a gentleman.” My stomach turned. “You win.” I mumbled. He grinned and walked away. ••••••••• "I look like a damn pornstar." The words slipped from my mouth as I stared into the bathroom mirror, flask in hand. I tipped it back, letting the burn of whiskey crawl down my throat, hoping it would numb the nerves bubbling in my gut. It didn’t.

"Let them know that I have burnt for sex toys and you bought another to pleasure yourself.. is this not the work of the devil? She screamed as she tried holding back her tears but how can I tell her that father Kentucky is the devil in disguise, the one who keeps ruining my sleep with wet dreams just by his existence in Saint Raphael church. " You're coming with me and that's final, get the hell out of that thing and get dressed, since you ain't ready to wait to get married you can tell the father about all you've done today in the confession room" I stopped from standing up. " What do you mean to the confession room? Mum, I can't do that!" I screamed.. How can I confess to father that I hav

They’d told me so with crystal clarity. I threw the fistful of pills across the room. Damn, my pitiful existence. I scraped my nails across my scalp, tugging at my grown-out hair. I silently screamed and rocked back and forth, hating myself for the fucked-up filth I’d been addicted to behind my family’s back. I should have stood right up and made my confession over Sunday roast, or sought out therapy from a professional who wasn’t my fucking wife. I, Julian Lockley, am a sex addict, who likes the degradation of barely legal girls.

Apparently, AB- is the rarest of types of blood, and hers is tempting them greatly. "First, we begin with the common, O+. There are seven tonight and they are little beauties," he says as seven human girls in their underwear are marched on stage. All of them look sad and pathetic to me. But I try to focus for Kraven. He likes blondes and redheads. I bid for the tallest blonde and win her. "Alpha Gunnar, your drink sir," a small voice from beside me says. "Thanks," I mumble I grab the glass and sip. The pleasant burn makes me tilt my head in satisfaction. My anger and unease have practically disappeared now. Kraven was right. I needed a night out and purchasing the vamps has actually put me i

He said the shot would catch both of us. So that was what he'd really been framing—every single detail on that bed. My hand started shaking. Not from anger. A real, physical tremor, like Parkinson's, until I could barely hold onto the phone. I thought back to that night. Axel had sat beside me the whole time, overly eager, overly warm. He kept pressing me to drink more. I was never good with alcohol. But out of politeness, I drank. Glass after glass. I'd trusted my boyfriend would take care of me. How could I not trust him? We'd been together for so long.