Novelas y relatos de Resolute Desk

This was never truly a choice. It was an ultimatum. A marriage to a stranger. A business contract disguised as a wedding. Vanessa slid a pen across the table. “All you have to do is sign.” Selena stepped forward and stared down at the marriage agreement. Adrian Kingston. Even the name felt dangerous. But the moment she pictured her mother lying unconscious in that hospital bed, her hesitation shattered. Before her heart could stop her, Selena picked up the pen and signed her name across the paper. The ink glided beneath her hand, sealing away the last fragments of her freedom. Vanessa smiled immediately. “Good decision.” Meanwhile, across the city, on the top floor of Kingston Global, a tall man dressed in black sat behind a polished wooden desk. Adrian Kingston. Sharp features, cold dark eyes, and an overwhelming presence that made the entire room feel tense in his silence alone. His fingers tapped steadily against the file resting on his desk while his gaze remained fixed on the photograph attached to the front cover. “Mr. Kingston, the Reeds have responded,” said Nathan Cole, Adrian’s longtime executive assistant. “She accepted?” Adrian asked coldly. “Yes.” Adrian leaned back slightly in his chair and reached for the glass of whiskey resting beside the file. Selena Reed. An ordinary woman with a quiet background. No social influence, no scandals, nothing particularly remarkable.

EROTICA ROMANCE. RATED 18+. "Oh my God!" I moan. "Mmm. Your ass is so fucking tight, baby," he says to me. He starts thrusting in and out of me harder and faster. I throw my head back and moan louder. The sounds of our skin slapping together and our moans fill his little office. I wonder if maybe people can hear us. It's so fucking hot and I can feel myself getting closer again when he pulls out. I look back at him and he's grinning. He's fucking with me. He puts his cock up to my pussy and thrusts inside of me. Then he pulls out and does it again. I feel him stick a finger inside of my asshole. "Mmm," I'm loving this. Every damn second is pure ecstasy. I find that I already want to come again. He's fingering my asshole and fucking my pussy and the feelings mixed are amazing. I reach around in front of me and begin to rub my clit. "Are you gonna come again baby?" he asks. "Yes," I moan and rub myself faster. He starts fucking me harder and deeper, thrusting into me with all of his power. We're moving the desk and either he hasn't noticed or he just doesn't care.

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.

"You've been a bad girl. Now I'm gonna fuck every bit of that sass right out of this pretty throat." He fisted my hair and dragged the leaking head of his cock over my lips, smearing them glossy and wet. "Beg," he ordered. My voice shook with how badly I needed it. "Please, sir. Please let me suck your cock. I'll be good—I swear." "Too late for good, baby. You're going to choke on it." Without another warning he thrust forward, sliding deep in one smooth stroke until the fat head bumped the back of my throat. Zara's life takes an erotic turn when she attends a new Psych class and her professor is her mother's ex husband. Dominic Calloway. He is hot, older and completely off limits. One lecture on submission and she’s soaked, desperate to be used. Even though she lives a double life as Grey Writes, a popular erotica writer, she is still a virgin. But now her body burns to be claimed and she can’t stop imagining him bending her over his desk, making her beg, stretching her open and claiming what no one else has touched. He’s forbidden. Taboo. Everything she shouldn’t want. But like his name, he’s exactly the Dom she needs.

"That's it, baby girl. Take Daddy's cock like the good little slut you are." My boyfriend's father had me bent over his desk, hand wrapped around my throat, splitting me open with his thick cock while my boyfriend was on the line. * * * Forget what you know about love stories. This is a fucking raw, no-filter plunge into the depraved fantasies you only jerk off to when you're home alone. This collection is your VIP pass to the kind of filth that leaves you shaking—where powerful bosses bend you over their desks' and depraved strangers use your holes in dirty alleyways before vanishing into the night. We're talking about the kind of raw, pulse-pounding taboo that gets you off: forbidden age gaps, rough, messy gangbangs, public throat-fucking that steals your voice, and first times that leave you gaping, dripping, and ruined for anyone else. Consider this your final warning. This is explicit, vulgar, and engineered to soak your panties. If you can't handle stories drenched in choking, rough anal, non-con/dub-con kinks, and filthy-mouthed sluts who beg to be used like the cum-dumpsters they are, close this book now. But if you're ready to get utterly wrecked—if you're craving that full-body, mind-melting, vibrator-on-high kind of climax that leaves you a boneless, dripping mess... Your next orgasm is waiting. Turn the page. We promise you'll be a good girl for us.

I’m the straight-A, first class princess. And yes, I’m currently getting blackmailed into sucking off my hot married professor under his desk every week while he details exactly how he’s going to knock me up before the semester’s over. The problem? I let him blackmail me and I love it here. Then my asshole stepbrother Jax catches me reeking of faculty dick late at night. Does he tell? No. He bends me over and I take him in stupid and bare, as he informs me I’m his breeding bitch now, and how he’s gonna keep me knocked up and locked in his wing like a pretty little secret while he has a girlfriend he's supposed to be engaged to in a while. And Riley? My gorgeous bi bestie who’s been pining since junior year? She’s in my bed every night after, but I want a boyfriend for my self too. Call me ruined. I call it happiness. Good girls run. I’m staying right here, legs open, waiting to see who gets to fill me first. ~Yesss~ This is a steamy story but of course it contains sweet love and shows how life could be hot complicated but lovely as well. XD

Isabella Romanov thought her body was broken. She thought the man holding her while she bled was the only thing keeping her alive but she was wrong about all of it. The pills in her green juice, the best friend in her bed, the forged signatures waiting in a lawyer's desk, Marcus Whitfield didn't just betray her. He hollowed her out and sold what was left. But Marcus made one fatal mistake. He forgot who her father was. When Isabella walks out of her suburban prison and back into the world of blood and power she was born into, she finds an unlikely ally in Luca Moretti, the most dangerous man on the East Coast. He'll destroy Marcus and burn every bridge her ex-husband ever built. But his protection comes at a price: her hand, her name, and her presence in his bed. Isabella isn't stupid enough to trust another powerful man. She's just desperate enough to marry one. As she rises from discarded wife to mafia queen, Isabella uncovers a conspiracy far darker than infidelity, stolen embryos, Russian bounties, and a family ledger worth more than the city itself. The deeper she digs, the more she realizes that everyone around her wants something, and the man who swore to protect her might have wanted it first. In a world where blood is currency and love is leverage, Isabella must have to decide what she's willing to burn to get back what was taken from her and whether the man beside her is worth keeping.

I'm the best plastic surgeon in the industry. Hendrick Twain is a regular customer of mine who has gotten his manhood enlarged nine times via surgery. But after I performed the latest surgery on him, he decides to linger around in my clinic instead of leaving. He keeps showing off his brand-new luxury watch while gloating to me, "Isn't this watch pretty, Dr. Yard? Winona was the one who gifted it to me." Upon noticing my lack of reaction, Hendrick approaches with a smile on his face. Then, he lowers his voice. "What's the use of preserving your chastity, anyway? Winona prefers to be with a plastic hunk like me, who's gone through nine manhood enlargement procedures, than be with you, Mr. Au Naturale." As I stare at Hendrick's face, which has gone under the knife countless times for minor adjustments, I remember the excuses Winona Grahm made to my face every night to avoid going home. Just the memory makes my gut churn in disgust. All of my grievances and disgust turn into ice at that moment. Finally, I take the wedding ring off my ring finger and place it on the desk gently. Then, I grab my phone and dial the number, which I haven't called in the past three years. "Dad." I sound eerily calm on the phone. "Since Winona thinks marriage is nothing but a joke to her, then there's no need for the Grahm family to continue existing in this world."

Vanessa Brooks was the kind of woman the world bowed to. Old money. Chandeliers. Every circle worshipped her—until Julian Frost decided she was guilty. He had loved her once. Or so she believed. But when murder by jealous rage became the charge, he didn't defend her. He testified. He stood in that courtroom and watched them drag her away in chains, his eyes colder than the steel on her wrists. Three years inside. Concrete walls. Thin blankets. Fists in the dark. They broke three ribs. Split her lip so many times she forgot how to smile. The magazine-cover beauty learned to sleep with her back to the wall, one eye open. When the gates opened, Vanessa walked out with nothing but the clothes on her back and a heart too dead for hatred. She left. She buried the name Julian Frost like a corpse. But Julian wasn't done. The moment he saw her on another man's arm—a ring that wasn't his—something inside him snapped. Cold indifference curdled into obsession. He tore her engagement apart. Dragged her back. Forced a ring onto her finger and built a prison from a marriage certificate. Vanessa endured in silence. No tears. No screams. Just divorce papers, slid across his desk, again and again. The third time, Julian ripped them in half. His voice was ragged—a king reduced to begging. "Divorce? Over my dead body."

The first time Rafael betrayed me, he threw the woman from his club at my feet. His eyes were bloodshot as he told me to take my pick. My love for him was a sickness, so I forgave the transgression. For the second betrayal, I had the dancer sent out of New York, warning her never to set foot on the East Coast again. On the night of our engagement party, sealing the union of our two families, Rafael pinned me against the walnut desk in the study. His eyes burned with rage as he demanded: "Where is Nina? She's carrying a Mancini heir." "It was a mistake. You can take your anger out on me. Nina is naive; she doesn't deserve this. I'm begging you, just let the child be born safely. I swear I'll never see her again." "You're afraid of childbirth. This gives you an heir without the risk." "Listen, Alessia. You are the future Donna of the Mancini family. When that child is born, it will know only you as its mother. I swear on my life." He forced me backward until shards from the vase I'd knocked over cut into my skin, staining my silk dress with blood. I looked at him and smiled, then gave him the address of a safe house in Brooklyn. He slammed the heavy oak door behind him. Shaking, I pulled out my encrypted phone. "You were right about him. Is your offer still on the table?"