Scotch On The Rocks Novels & Stories

Reaching for the bottle, I blink slowly in confusion when I discover it's no longer in my hand. “I ken ye’ve had more than enough, mo bhràthair,” Roland warns, rounding the workbench and walking away with the bottle of scotch in his hand. “Och, ye ken how mad wae it ye gets by tryin' to drown yer blootered arse in Scotch.” He taunts, glancing over his shoulder at me. Raising the bottle to his mouth, he took a few healthy swigs, waggling his brows at me.

Richard sat in his study. He leaned back in his chair, one hand massaging his temple while the other clutched a glass of water. His head throbbed, the fresh stitches pulling every time he moved. He glared at the water, clear and tasteless – a poor substitute for what he really wanted. His eyes drifted to the cabinet in the corner where he kept his scotch, eighteen years old and smooth as silk. The bottle stood there, taunting him

"You must be so proud seeing your wife up there tonight,Jeremy." "Of course..Very Proud."I turned towards the bar,seeing that the bartender was standing by and waiting to serve."Scotch on the Rocks, Macallan preferably." "Certainly,Sir."The bartender was short in height,with the peppered facial stubble picked up a perfectly clean scotch glass and shuffled some ice in."We have the double cask gold or The Macallan estate,Sir?" "Estate,Please."I sighed,as I threw some bills down on the counter.I stood silent,unable to block out the conversation that was going on between my parents and the other people in Vanessa's life.

Skye asked, anticipating her response. "It's fly, I'm astonished," Scar commented, despite all this Scar's mind was somewhere else, she was absent-minded. Skye noticed this but didn't wanna push it so he asked her something else, "What would you like to have?" Scar sighed wearily, "I need something strong, something hard." "Um, Alright, Do you take vodka?" He asked. Scar nodded, Skye turned his attention to the bartender, "Vodka and whiskey on the rocks." He nodded and started mixing the drinks, and before Scar could blink a drink was in front of her. "Here Señorita." the bartender said.

"And I'll have whatever you're having." "Two scotch on rocks," He informed the bartender. "Would you like me to read you?" "Let's see." She chuckled, picking up the glass that was handed to her. Taking a step back, the man gave her a once-over before a smirk overcame his features, a certain knowledge shining in his eyes.

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.

The Alpha was sat in the living room, a crystal glass of Amber liquid in hand. A single lamp was turned on, as though the room had gotten dark without him noticing. He simply sat, staring into the nothingness of the room, bringing his glass to his lips to draw in a swallow of his drink every so often. He cringed at the taste onm his lips and I knew it was Scotch, the scent filled my nostrils as I walked in the room.

Hopefully he tipped as well as his friends. I poured him a generous glass of the amber liquid and set it on the counter. He took one small sip, a smile crossing his thin lips before slamming the rest of it down. I tried not to look horrified. Scotch, especially a bottle that probably cost around three grand, should not be slammed back like a shot. It would be like using a Monet as toilet paper.

I did though. "We've got business in Finland Ev," I replied. He looked away as I proceeded to gulp down a great portion of my drink. Johnny Walker black labeled scotch whisky. The best in all of New York, only the best would be suitable for me and scotch being my favorite, I wanted nothing short of the best. Everything about the Montgomery and Finn corps screamed rich and classy anyway. And I was happy to have made that happen. To have been a part of something that mattered greatly. "I don't know why you have to do this man." Was he really serious?

Hopefully he tipped as well as his friends. I poured him a generous glass of the amber liquid and set it on the counter. He took one small sip, a smile crossing his thin lips before slamming the rest of it down. I tried not to look horrified. Scotch, especially a bottle that probably cost around three grand, should not be slammed back like a shot. It would be like using a Monet as toilet paper.