Scotch On The Rocks Novels & Stories

I raised my middle finger at the ceiling above me. "Fuck you!" Rules. She wanted to give me rules, in a house full of so many expensive things that I could swipe. I walked straight to the mini bar in the corner of the living room and dropped onto the stool in front of it. Then I peered at the bottles lined up behind the counter and reached for one near the back, pulling it forward and tilting it toward the light. It was Macallan 25 Year, a single malt Scotch whisky. I whistled under my breath. Linda Henderson was absolutely loaded!

Scott shook his head. “I’m suddenly in the mood for a drink.” Scott chucked. “It’s not even three yet.” “Call it a birthday drink and I can drink it whenever I want.” I walked over to the small globe I had in the room’s corner. Pulling it up, the globe opened to reveal six smaller glasses and two bottles of bourbon. I took out one of the bottles and held out the bottle for Scott. “I mean, I can’t very well let my Alpha drink alone on his birthday now, can I?” He smirked and came over, grabbing two of the glasses.

And then there's a lone rock glass on the end. First level is a quick shot of Chivas, second was Jim Beam, 3rd was Jameson and then Jack Daniel's going on to Johnnie Walker, Bacardi Black, Silver 1969 Bacardi and the last one of the nine was Absolute Vodka before drinking the dangerous and lethal Firefox--- a mix of blue Curaçao, 151° Bacardi, Tequila, gin, grenadine syrup and orange juice.

It's his address. In my truck, I quickly type the address into google maps then start driving. On the way there I decided to stop at a gas station and pick up a case coke. I remember Declan drinking coke at the diner and we're going to need something to drink if we're having a movie marathon, so why not get coke. I nervously hand over the money for the soda, looking everywhere but at the cashier. Once it's paid for, I scurry out and waste no time driving away.

When he heard my sigh, he tightened his hold, almost pulling me into his embrace. This was the first time we were this close, and I immediately stiffened. He lowered his head, deliberately inhaling deeply to smell me. His warm breath brushed against my neck as he asked, "What kind of alcohol did you drink just now?" I wasn't very knowledgeable about drinks, so I thought for a moment before replying, "Red wine?" "Did it taste good?" Leon's voice came even closer, almost like a whisper in my ear. "I want to try it too, Estie."

Drake opened the bottle of imported scotch, and he and Alpha Maddox chatted while enjoying the way smokey flavors of amber liquid danced over their tongues with hints of coffee, licorice, and vanilla. The two Alphas discussed current issues in their packs, and their ongoing and upcoming collaborations as well as the always-current topic of rogues and their activities. However, they already communicated about this over email and video calls, so nothing was new, and they skimmed over everything rather quickly. "It seems you have something on your mind.", Drake finally got to the point. "I thought I was sneaky about it." Seeing Drake's cocky smirk, Maddox shook his head and admitted, "I wanted

He pulls a bottle of scotch from the top shelf and grabs two glasses. I toss my bag on the couch with more force than necessary and follow him. “Come have a drink,” he says as he uncorks the bottle. Settling into one of the chairs, I reply, “You didn’t even ask if I like scotch.” He pours the amber liquid into both glasses and pushes one across the counter toward me. “There’s only one way to find out. Drink.” “You’re annoying.” I grab the glass and down the whole thing in one go. The burn is instant.

— The scotch is worth more than my rent. I know this because I Googled it just now in the elevator — 1962 Macallan, forty-two thousand dollars a bottle — and now my palms are so damp I'm terrified I'm going to drop it, and then I'll owe the gala and the loan sharks, and that thought alone makes my hands shake worse. I adjust my grip. Breathe. Unknown: 23:49 remaining. The texts don't say who they're from. They don't have to.

“Scotch on the rocks.” I had no idea what that was, but I would try to see to it that he gets what he wanted. “I'll be right back.” I went over to the bar and to my utmost surprise, North was there chatting and laughing with a red head—Monet Morales—the girl he planned on killing tonight to tie up his loose ends. What a fucking hypocrite! I scoffed and walked past them to the bartender there. “Hi, Jerry.” I flashed him a smile that was really fake, considering North was there. “Scotch on the rocks.”

I walk over and take a seat at the bar. “What will it be?” The bartender smiles. “Blue label Scotch on the rocks, please.” I glance around as I scan the crowd. She makes my drink, turns back and slides it over the bar. “You here alone tonight?”