Rock And Scotch Novels & Stories

My makeup is a little normal and I'm wearing grey contacts. " Hi. Welcome to club Mandarin. What can I get you?" Mr. Rio smirks at me, his eyes looking down my legs and thighs as he licks his lip. " A bottle of your finest scotch with four glasses." He says. I nod and turn around to leave, not before hearing Rio whisper something in Spanish and the other men laugh. Pricks. I hurry to the bar and grab the Scotch with four glasses. I hurry back to the men. I pour the drink in the glasses and cover back the bottle.

Bradley's voice was so broken that I could feel it tugging at my heart strings while my wolf was howling in delight at the prospect of mating with Blake when we got the hell out of here so she was as good as useless right now. "I promise. Now tell me. What's their name?" I asked quickly. "Ni-Nicole Sto-tone."

Rockford asked Rocco who was back behind the bar, apparently, he was getting Dee a drink to calm her nerves. "You know Dee. She always says it's fine, but we're kind of swamped here. Do you mind giving this to her?" Rocco placed the glass on the bar. "It's rum and coke. For her nerves." "Right, okay." Rockford didn't ask again, he was just glad that he had an excuse to see her. Since their little encounter, Rockford had been shamelessly thinking about the couple. He knew he shouldn't, but he just couldn't help it. Those two were sexy as fuck and he wanted to be included badly though he did bailed the last minute when Rocco invited him for another threesome, the day after it happened for the

The emptiness of a space not lived in. Ryan went straight to the bar. Pulled out a bottle of scotch. The expensive kind. Aged twenty-five years. A gift from a business partner. He poured three fingers into a crystal glass. Drank it in two swallows. Poured again. His phone buzzed. Text from Caleb. "Where did you go? Father is worried." Ryan ignored it. Drank more scotch. Another buzz. Ethan this time. "We need to talk. Please call me back."

Money flung onto the counter, the grizzly man grunting as he snatched his Budweiser. Zoe was thankful for the bar between them. Something had gone awry for him tonight and he was clearly itching for a fight. Tossing the cash into the till, she tilted her head to the next customer. “What can I get you?” “Scotch neat, please.” The din around her ceased, her heartbeat clanging loudly in her ears as the hoarse voice penetrated through the silence.

Fantastic and the wooden counter. Black seemed to be able to cover his soulmate entirely by his physical presence and to hide her this way of the indiscrete glances. He brought his face to her neck and took a deep breath. His wolf had been howling in his mind the moment she had walked away, and he had not bothered to apologize to his hosts. "A Glenlivet,18 Years, Single Malt, Whiskey...no ice." Bianca could feel chills run down her skin where his breath caressed her.

Matteo always said Cesare didn’t usually travel with security, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. Seeing threats in every shadow because I didn’t want to see the truth that was already sitting in front of me. I flagged down a server. “Double scotch,” I said. “Your best.” He nodded and returned with a bottle I recognized: Fortnum & Mason Glenfiddich 40 Year Old Single Malt. Pricey as hell. I didn’t care. I tossed it back like it was nothing, hoping it would quiet the fury in my chest. It didn’t.

The guy asks and Dylan looks at him. “Scotch, neat, and a martini with two olives please,” Dylan orders and the bartender nods, leaving us to get out drinks. I can’t stop looking at the man in front of me. He is not even trying to be charming, and he is almost charming my panties off.

She makes her statement in a confident and flirtatious manner, which just makes Jerk pleased. “Dress off, now,” he orders in a domineering manner. At his call, Scarlet whips off her dress, pulling it over her head and lays in her matching lace set. Jerk steps out of his jeans, hovering over her while he inspects her body as if he is checking an antique for defects.

Oh my! "Carnation!" Tyros calls her, one of the casa's on-duty bartenders tonight. "Take this to table 16," he ordered as she approached the man. She accepted the bottle of 25 -year-old Glen Moray— an expensive type of scotch whiskey. "Is this their only order?" she asked Tyros, to which the young man immediately nodded in response. "All right, I'll take care of it," she said with a smile. Carrying a bottle of scotch whiskey, Carnation went to table 16. She met four older men there, and they all had their table niñas with them.