Kingsman Agent Whiskey Novels & Stories

I slap him, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to try and shock him awake. “Wake up, Prince!” Another slap. “Come on, open your fucking eyes!” His eyelids flutter, just barely, but it’s enough. I don’t hesitate. Tilting the bottle, I pour the whiskey past his lips. “Swallow,” I order, my voice sharp, commanding. His throat bobs weakly, and for a split second, the corner of his mouth twitches, like he’s trying to smirk. “Don’t fucking smirk. Swallow,” I snap. His throat moves again, slow, sluggish.

I pull my hand away gently with slight embarrassment to which he responds with the most seductive twitch of a mischievous smirk at the corner of his mouth. He raises his glass of what looks like whiskey without a word as if to silently request that I drink with him. I give him a subtle nod of agreement before turning towards the bar to get my own drink. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead drinking alcohol which inebriates my senses and slows my reflexes, an assassin’s worst nightmare. I relent this once because I am so curious about this breathtaking man and I want to keep talking to him privately. I have to quickly whisk him away from all these beautiful noble ladies that have way more to of

Picking up the decanter he poured himself a double, neat, and placed it in front of him before moving his computer mouse to bring his screen to life. On the screen was a list of all the undercover or bribed staff he had working in the royal pack. Deleting the name of his most recent agent he sat back in his chair while knocking back his whisky and pouring himself another. What he needed was a warrior or a noble, to work on Damon’s behalf. That unfortunately was highly unlikely, the warriors very rarely left the pack territory and the nobles hated rouges they saw as unworthy of even being a wolf to begin with.

Collections of wine, all categories from foreign brandy and whisky to champagnes and red wines. Wayne grabbed a bottle of Johnnie Walker's Black Label and poured himself a hearty glass. He put in a few cubes of ice from the fridge and took a long swig at it. The whisky rushed down his throat, dousing every ounce of desire left. Nothing like a good glass of alcohol to relax you and summon sleep. He heard Rojan descend the steps and come to join him at the bar, he climbed atop one of the bar stools. Wayne gingerly poured another glass for him.

Although I had been there long before as his daughter-in-law, a lot of people felt it was thing of privilege. Stupid. I turned around and returned to what I was doing, thereby ending the baseless conversation. “Scarlett,” someone else called out to me, “the King wants his whiskey.” Thought he planned to go the night without it. I remained quiet without giving the messenger a reply as I took out a tray and got his whiskey and glass out. I made my way past the crowd moving around and into the Alpha’s VIP lounge. Smoke filled the air slightly from the smoking that came from different angles from his biker members.

I hand him a glass and sit close, our thighs pressing together. “King needs his queen,” I say, clinking my glass against his. He takes a sip, eyes locked on mine. “Smooth talker,” he says. “Keep going.” I place my tumbler down and move in, taking his mouth in a slow, greedy kiss. The flavor of whiskey stays, strong and hot, as our tongues touch. His fingers tank at my tee, lifting it off, and I rip his out in return, the cloth landing on the carpet.

Seeing the sign of a bar close by, Mia parked the car and went inside the bar to drink. Hey, get me a bottle of Whiskey .” Mia said to the bartender as she sat down on a stool in the bar. She wiped her tears, sobbing softly and listening to the distinct music, Liam was enjoying himself with another woman, and here she was crying over him. The bartender brought a bottle of Whiskey with a glass cup for her. Mia drank one glass of whiskey and felt the hot gin burn the back of her throat. It tasted so good, and she took it again until she lost count of the number of bottles she had.

“Man, you’ve gotten boring. What happened to the guy who used to outdrink me and still walk out with the prettiest girl in the room?” I tossed the shot back, the sharp burn making my eyes water. “He grew up.” “Bullshit,” Mason scoffed. “You’re still the same guy. You just pretend not to be.” He didn’t wait for my agreement, already signaling the bartender. “Another round. Three of those premium whiskies.” I leaned closer, the bass vibrating through my chest. “I love expensive whiskey. I don’t love watching you spend an hour trying to chat up the cocktail waitress.”

She watched him expectantly. "It's Crown Royal, so it's Canadian. I suppose we should invest in a little Irish whiskey around here." He suppressed a smile. "I would say so. If you're going to drink whiskey, it should be Jameson." She added a shot to each cup. "Although, really, I'm a wine girl. But your friends at the Northern Lights didn't have a Marlborough Sauvignon blanc, so I settled." She handed him a cup, and again, he found himself trying not to smile, but he couldn't have said why. Poppy made him smile without even trying to.

King’s POV My strides were simple and short. I watched everyone turn to me as I approached their supposed boss. He looked just as I remembered him. This time he didn’t have a gun pointed at me but he sure had a calm to him today. I took a seat across from him. “Whiskey? Scotch?” his Russian accent was perfect. “I heard you had some wine. Entertain me with them,” I said. He squinted his eyes for a second then tucked that anger away somewhere I wouldn’t bother searching for it. He gestured for someone to bring it forward and we were served. “Enjoy,” he said, picking up his glass.