Over The Desk Novels & Stories

The truth of it made something loosen in my chest—a small, dangerous relief that had nothing to do with schedules. My phone buzzed again before I could think of a reply. I thumbed it open with a quick, dry smile at the screen. Winston: Also—clean desk policy still applies, Louis. Don’t make me catalogue your negligence. Me: If you catalogue one pen more than necessary, I’ll dock your coffee allowance. And Winston—thanks. Winston: Save your gratitude for the annual review. See you in twenty.

The sunlight filters through sheer, neutral-toned curtains, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Noah's desk was the centerpiece of the office. It's a large, polished mahogany piece that exudes authority and sophistication. The desk was impeccably organized, with a high-end computer setup, a leather-bound planner, and a few carefully selected personal items: a framed photo of his family, a small succulent plant, and a sleek, modern desk lamp. Despite his perfectionist tendencies, Noah's workspace feels personal and inviting.

A state-of-the-art computer and communication system were seamlessly integrated into the desk, emphasizing efficiency and technological prowess. Behind the desk, a high-backed leather chair exuded authority. Its strategic placement allowed Mr. Russo to command the room with a mere turn, his gaze sweeping over the meticulously arranged space. The walls, painted in muted tones, exuded a sense of calm, belying the strategic machinations that unfolded within.

💦Under the Desk💦 The conference call was already in progress when I slipped under my boss’s massive oak desk. "Signor Rossi, the quarterly numbers look strong," one of the board members droned on through the speakerphone. Alessandro Rossi, CEO of Rossi Global Imports, leaned back in his leather chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. His expensive trousers were already unzipped, his thick, veiny cock standing hard and ready right in front of my face.

Sleek furniture in blacks and grays. A desk that could comfortably seat six people. And in the corner,actual living trees in planters. Trees. Inside an office. Kael sat behind his desk, typing on his computer, not looking up. I stood there awkwardly, holding his coffee and wondering if I should say something or just wait. He kept typing. After what felt like an eternity but was probably thirty seconds, he glanced up. His eyes landed on the coffee, then traveled up to my face. “Coffee,” he said flatly.

Just like they wanted. The home office was a sleek glass-and-wood space with a large desk facing the windows and a long conference table. I sat down at the desk and tried to focus on the mountain of emails waiting in the shared inbox. My body was still humming from the morning. Every shift in the chair reminded me how sore and used I was.

Read through it one more time. Put it back on the desk. And went back to work.

"I was thinking about bending you over this desk." "Then stop talking about it and do it."

The moment the door clicked shut, the atmosphere shifted to something primal, charged. It was darker in here, the only light coming from the city skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows like a million voyeurs. His desk, a massive slab of polished dark wood, stood as an altar in the center of the room, waiting to be desecrated. “The desk,” he repeated, his voice leaving no room for misinterpretation, rough with barely leashed hunger. “Bend over. Now. Spread those legs wide—I want to see that greedy cunt begging.”

I’ve mocked Crista, Tie, and even Darren for YEARS about how they get off being dominated by their D’Amore mate. Yet here I am, getting my rocks off on Jonathan, dominating me, bent over his glass desk, and it’s not just any glass desk. It’s a fucking see-through computer! His desk is a fucking computer! That is so Silvercloud. It’s crazy. This is the kind of insane, next-level, mind-blowing tech I expected when I started working here. ‘Forget the damn desk! How about the insane, next-level, mind-blowing SEX!’ Sara reminded me.