Over The Desk Novels & Stories

Wesley sat behind his sleek mahogany desk, the light from his computer casting a soft glow on his chiselled features. He had been working late into the evening, his mind consumed with numbers and spreadsheets. It was then that he heard the familiar "ping" of a new email arriving in his inbox.

It was like a mini-apartment. A large oak desk sat on a platform. Below it were black leather couches, and a flat-screen TV with a camera mounted underneath. There was even a bar area and another door. "Your desk," Constantine said, pointing to a small black table in the corner. I walked over and put my bag down. Constantine eyed me. "At least you look the part." "Hmm," I murmured, holding my tongue. "What's wrong, tiger?" he mocked. "No witty comeback?"

I nodded, forcing out a smile, at the same time glancing at Ethan who was now busy on his laptop. “Yeah, I am having fun in his office….” I pushed the door open. “I hope that you are not being overworked?” “Yes, I am not over…..” My words trailed when my gaze landed on the desk that contained files that were heaped against one another. I had to rub my eyes to be sure that I was seeing right . “Junia, are you there?” Jones snapped me out of my reverie. I nodded. “Nope, I am not being overworked”

She didn't know the right movements yet. I reached down, lifted her, and set her on the edge of the desk. Jean's voice came out soft and breathless. "Max… I'm so itchy. It's driving me crazy. I don't know why, but I just want you to push into me hard." Looking at her perfect body—the flawless curves, the creamy skin—my heart raced. After all that torment, I could finally let go. I gave her round, pale bottom a light slap and commanded, "Bend over the desk. Stick it out for me."

She wasn’t sure she could handle looking at them all day. “We thought it best for you to be nearby,” Cade explained. “It’s important that we all get comfortable with one another. This office is off-limits to anyone else, so consider it a private space.” The desk was stocked with distractions: a slim e-reader, headphones, neatly organized games, notebooks, and what looked like an entire artist’s corner of sketchpads, pens, colored pencils, and markers. A tablet sat off to the side, screen dark but gleaming.

His office was as neat as it could be with everything in its place. I stood between his large desk and the leather chair behind me, lifted my dress to my waist and sat down. The cool leather on my bare bottom felt sexy. I wiggled my ass around feeling an arousal deep within. I ran my fingers along the side of the desk imagining his chest leaning against it as he worked. I wondered how many women he fucked on the top of this desk as I ran my hand along the surface.

But the man on the other end just kept talking about supply chains without being aware of the immoral act going on under the desk. I made quick work of the buttons, peeling the fabric back. He wasn't wearing anything underneath. He sprang free, hot and rigid, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. He was magnificent and terrifying. I looked at him, the crown of his member weeping a single bead of moisture that caught the stray light under the desk. I glanced up. The underside of the desk was just inches above my head. I could hear the rhythmic tap of Julian's pen on the wood above, tap, tap, tap, a silent metronome for my performance.

THIRD PERSON'S POV Derek sat at his large mahogany desk, piles of documents scattered haphazardly around him. The tension in the room was palpable, and his eyes burned from staring at the endless stream of contracts, financial statements, and meeting minutes that detailed the slow, agonizing collapse of F&J. His once-flourishing company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy, and for the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint where everything had gone so horribly wrong.

“Actually, that's what I thought but now that you mention it, that might not be a good idea.” Apoel turned around and slowly walked over to the other desk of the office. There were three desks in total. He skimmed his finger over the papers on the last desk while his eyes were on the ones on the floor. He wondered if those papers could have anything important but if they couldn’t understand it, what’s the point?

I dropped my bag on my desk and opened my bag, bringing out my phone and a few other accessories. I did a quick arrangement of my desk, an action that I engaged in when I was in the mood to procrastinate work a little. I looked over to Trisha's desk. She wasn't there but looking at it a little more closely, I realized that Trisha's things had been packed up in a carton box. My brows furrowed as I got up on my feet and walked over to her desk. Trisha had packed up her stuffs. I stood by her desk, eyes slightly narrowed but I didn't have to keep the questioning gaze for a long while because it only took a few seconds for the noise of heels clicking to fill my ears.