Scotch On The Rocks Novels & Stories

) The bartender quickly handed him his Jägermeister, and as he sipped leisurely from the glass, he occasionally glanced at Ophelia, who sat silently. She quickly gulped down her drink and set the glass on the counter."Ich hätte gerne einen Scotch, bitte." She placed her order, and the bartender nodded and moved forward to prepare her drink. (A scotch please.) Onyx's brows were scrunched as he stared at her. She lifted her brows in question and shifted her eyes to him."What?" She inquired. "You shouldn't drink so much, Captain." He remarked this while sipping from his glass.

Just imagining that part where Nicholas almost took advantage of me is stressful enough for me. The DJ was now playing "Sick Boy by The Chainsmoker." The bartender glanced in my direction and flashed his perfectly white teeth. Reese sat on the stool next to mine, still looking in my direction, waiting for me to talk. “I’ll tell you about it, okay? Just one drink, please,” I know she’s already losing patience with the way she glared at me. The night was still young, and she needed to chill. “Fine. Scotch on the rocks, please,” she snapped her fingers, and the bartender attentively nodded and started preparing the drinks.

he said. "Oh, you flatter me. I think you're exaggerating a little," the aunt answered, giggling, raising her cup. "But thank you for your kind words, dear Lennox. I did my best to please you." "And you have succeeded, my Lady, I assure you," Lennox continued and took a sip of his scotch. "How's your scotch, dear Lennox?" the uncle asked as he wiped the leftover food from his lips on his towel. "Ah! It is amazing - light with notes of butter and citrus. It left me breathless, Lord Malcolm. Excellent!" he replied, lifting his cup and taking another sip.

He seems really pissed though, his second nods calmly and heads out, still in his rage, he walks straight into his personal office and shuts the door firmly. He sits down heavily on his arm chair and grabs the whiskey bottle at the left side of his table. It was the Balvenie 50 year old single malt scotch whiskey speyside, a bottle of this whiskey cost about fifty thousand US dollars. It is currently the most expensive scotch in the world. He pulls the glass cap off and pours himself a glass full of the scotch to help him cool off. As he gulps a shot, he notices the frame on the other side of his study, directly facing his table.

I find the bar cabinet tucked in the corner. My hands are shaking slightly as I pull it open. Rows of amber liquid stare back at me. Expensive scotch. Bourbon. Gin. I grab a bottle of dark, aged scotch and a crystal tumbler. I don't care about the price or that it belongs to Arthur; I just need something to burn away the image of Julian lying next to me. The glass clinks as I pour. I take a sip, and the liquid fire slides down my throat, warming me from the inside out.

looking at a glass jar just the size of two shot glasses stacked together, “Nope, not that one.” I then spotted the perfect glass, the same height and size of those drinking glasses, the one used for scotch on the rocks type of glass. I picked the glass up and declared, “This is the one.” The servants then took all of the unchosen glasses back to the kitchen as the chef and Drew stared at me with wonder.

I smiled, “and it’s great to meet you all!” I chugged back another drink. “Woah she can handle her liquor, eh boss?” Jason chimed in. I sighed and told them it is fantastic scotch. “No doubt, it’s Jameson’s brand” Ricky explained. “Simply the best out there.” “No need for flattery boys.” Jameson laughs. Liv moved to the bar stool on my right and we started chatting. “You need to try these rocket shots that Ken makes!” Liv said joyfully. “2 rocket shots coming up!” Ken cheered.

Ordering another scotch on the rocks, I watched as the bartender deftly poured the amber liquid over gleaming ice cubes and slid the glass to me over the countertop. I took a sip, allowing the warmth of the alcohol to momentarily chase away my concerns. Sarah's wedding should have been a joyous occasion, but instead, it felt like a battleground—enemies lurking around every corner, ready to strike–and I couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that there was more at stake here than just my daughter's happiness. As I sipped my bourbon, the warmth spreading through my chest, my thoughts drifted back to the intimate moment I shared with Grace a few minutes ago. The

My eyes were fixed on Vera, watching her listen attentively to the dealer. Further behind her stood a server, balancing a cold bottle of scotch on a silver tray. My throat went dry at the sight of it, and for half a second, the scotch had all my attention. It was tempting, but couldn't, I was driving Vera tonight. But half a glass wouldn't hurt, right—right?

Seeing the handsome man talking to her just annoyed me more. Then she laughed, throwing her head back and gripping her stomach because whatever the fuck that guy said was so hilarious. Her hand rested on his wrist on the surface of the bar, seeming innocent but also purposeful. All the guys before him had struck out based on the untouched Long Island iced tea, vodka cranberry, glasses of red wine, and a screwdriver. The drink she was actually consuming…was a scotch. That pissed me off more. “Damn.” Rhett genuinely looked devastated he never got his chance with Sofia, even though he knew nothing about her, hadn’t ever even listened to her voice.