Over The Desk Novels & Stories

Her eyes narrowed into daggers as she glared at him with enough venom to make a lesser man shrink. I cleared my throat, still carefully keeping my gaze anywhere but on them. “Next time, could you maybe choose a different room? Literally any room that isn’t my office. And preferably not on top of my desk.” The mental image clawed its way back to the front of my mind, uninvited. I could already feel the urge to grab an entire bottle of sanitizer and scrub every inch of that desk. Honestly, maybe it would be easier to just toss the whole thing out and buy a new one. I doubted I’d ever be able to look at it again without picturing Kylie bent over it, eyes wide with shock, pants around her ankles

Only then did the building finally breathe again. Lev placed the first file on the desk. Business. Problems. Money. Routine. Kane sat. "Start." The office was quiet, just quiet when people knew better than to interrupt. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across one side of the room, overlooking the city below. Morning traffic moved in thin lines beneath layers of glass and steel while somewhere several floors down people entered meetings, checked schedules, signed documents, and convinced themselves they understood the man whose name sat on the building. Most of them didn't.

If there were any clues, they were bound to be there, somewhere amongst the throng of paperwork that decorated his desk. “What’s his condition?” I asked calmly, my eyes trailing over the dark wood instead of making eye contact with Vinnie. My fingers traced over the intricate drawers etched with magnificent designs. I let my nails scratch nervously at the wax in the deep crevasses that decorated the edge of the desk.

Third Person's POV Mr. Astor Sinclair's Office - Afternoon The desk shines brightly under the afternoon light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Mr. Astor Sinclair sat behind it like a king defending his throne, one hand holding his phone, the other typing rapidly on his computer keyboard.

This crazy fucker. “Is that why you drug them? So they can’t bite your dick off?…”, I lean in to whisper, while provocatively keeping my gaze downward, facing his crotch hidden under his desk. “Not like there’s much to bite off anyway”. I add while smiling brightly at him. It takes a moment, then the desk goes flying across the room. Ah. Alpha tempers can always be counted on. He reaches across and grabs the front of my shirt, dragging me up to my feet.

I don’t want to think about how I would be the moment my cock even has a taste of her pussy or even just the taste of her on my tongue. At the moment I was in my office seated behind my desk trying, key word trying, to focus on my work.My desk was covered in paperwork , laptop was opened and I hadn't even started. I pushed back my seat and stood up making my way over to the mini bar. I needed a drink, a strong one just to pull my attention away from what was going on outside or more from someone.

"Where's my coffee?" I drop my feet to the floor and close the Kindle, leaning over my desk to look into his office, making sure I press my arms together and put the girls on their best display. Vincent could look all he wanted, but he wouldn't be touching me ever again. Not unless things change drastically. No, Mackenzie. Never. I turn back from pretending to stare at his desk since I already know what it looks like. "There are two on your desk." His teeth clamp together and his lips draw into a thin line. "They're old and you know it."

Enclosed in glass walls, they offered a sense of transparency and openness. Emma confidently approached one of the glass doors, turning the handle and revealing a spacious room with two desks adorned with computers and files. One of the desks sat empty, while the other was occupied by a distinguished man dressed in a dark suit. As Georgina and Emma stepped inside, the man lifted his head from his desk, acknowledging their presence.

I just want to know if he loves the room or hates it, but he doesn't seem inclined to tell me either way. I almost wonder if he's torturing me on purpose. I walk up to the oversized desk in the middle of the room. While we discussed leaving his old desk and chair in here, I'd found something that seemed too perfect for the space to pass up. The desk is almost a command center taking up the middle of the room in an imposing, serious way that fits Troy so well.

Chapter 43: Mark The heavy crystal tumbler hits the edge of my solid mahogany desk with a sharp, echoing clack. Amber scotch sloshes violently over the rim, bleeding instantly into the expensive leather desk blotter at our corporate headquarters. I completely ignore the expanding dark stain, my eyes locked onto the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the sprawling downtown skyline. Outside, the morning sun cuts through the glass towers like a polished silver blade, but inside this office, the atmosphere is freezing.