Your Office Obsession Novels & Stories

When we are done here, we need to find out what is happening in that basement. We stop in front of the large oak door. The door is open, someone else was in here too. I push the door open just a little wider. We hold our breaths when the metal hinges release a long, high- pitched squeak. I am the first to peek my head around the door, stealing a view of the office. As soon as I see the deserted room, I can breathe again. The room is a mess. There are papers everywhere. The bookcase is empty, all the books are on the floor. All the drawers of my father’s old desk have been emptied. The entire office is trashed.

Serra's attitude reminded her slightly of Lucius's. "Why don't you go straight, Serra?" "That won't interfere with your time, miss. I have seen enough of the sweet sight from my position just now.” Serra smiled sincerely and sweetly. Riley released a breath from her mouth. She doesn't know, she felt she could not place on this matter because it is useless. "So we have work today?" "We always give jobs, but especially today, there are only a few jobs." Riley sat in her chair, repeatedly moving her body to make herself comfortable. She felt pretty homesick for this chair and this room. She went a week without going to the office, she thought that she had done something quite strange.

we were a dangerous team. And the sex was amazing! I held up my end of the bargain, every f*cking day. I would suck him off when he was under pressure. I would be there for him when the stress was getting too much to bear, bending over his desk and letting him take out his stress on my hot body. And when I was in need, I would stroll right in there, get on his desk, spread my legs, and beckon him forward. I would interrupt his important phone calls to make him eat me out, showing him where his true priorities lied. I would get on my knees, point my butt at him, and pull apart the cheeks, making his mouth water as he stared at my tasty a**hole, waiting for him to act. I would sit on his lap,

“So how am I supposed to write now? My laptop’s at the apartment.” He placed a hand on my head and ruffled my hair. I glared at him. “Are you satisfied now?” I snapped. Instead of answering, he kissed my cheek quickly and walked into one of the rooms. “I am satisfied… as long as I’m with you.” I shook my head. Typical. Men like him always had sweet words ready. But when I stepped inside his office— I froze. It was beautiful. Minimalist. Black and white. Simple—but elegant. And the ceiling…

Our father was much of a bastard to her as he was to anyone else. I knew more than anyone else that the grins and silly jokes were because she was trying so hard to hide. To forget. To push the hell we saw to the furthest deepest part of her mind. Anabelle twirled as she walked round my office skimming her hands on the wall, the shelf, everything she could fucking touch. "I don't get why you have such a huge office. Doesn't it make you feel tiny?" "Well, considering the mess of paperwork I have to wade through every day, it does make me feel like a tiny speck in a sea of chaos," I replied with a half-hearted chuckle, glaring at a document that had Harrison's name scrawled all over it.

I imagine scenarios, the best and worst outcomes tangling in a dizzying array of what-ifs and must-nots. The office is an orderly expanse of certainty, but even here I feel the mocking presence of how little control I truly have. My eyes move over the meticulous organization, each file and folder a false assurance against the disorder I carry within. It taunts me, this careful environment, daring me to maintain the same level of precision in my tangled personal life.

Damian's POV The office is a living thing by nine o’clock: a web of quietly desperate ambition knotted between the glass walls and the matte-black marble floors. I can feel it before I see it, just as I feel the thread of Ava at my side—her steady footfalls, the small stack of folders pressed to her chest—both a ward and a weapon.

“If it’s not ‘today is secretly a national holiday,’ save it.” She ignored that completely. I walked past the small open-space area, rows of desks scattered with moodboards, laptops, and rolled-up layout blueprints. Our office on the second floor of this old brick building in Capitol Hill wasn’t big, but every corner looked ready to be photographed for a design magazine. One of the upsides of having an event planner with visual control issues as a boss. In my own office, I dropped my bag on the couch, shrugged off my coat and hung it on the rack, then sank into my desk chair.

Ethan's Point of view: The warm sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office cast a golden glow on the sleek, modern furniture and the bustling city below. As COO of my family's company, I had grown accustomed to the trappings of success - the plush carpet, the polished wood, the hum of productivity. But on days like this, when the sun shone bright and the world felt full of possibility, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Chapter Three – Executive Ecstasy The Obsidian Office evolved into a haven of shadows and power as the night settled, the tinted windows reflecting the city lights, the boardroom table a stage for our entwined forms. My blouse and skirt were strewn aside, bruises on my hips and thighs, bite marks on my breasts, cum and sweat coating my skin—yet the hunger within me burned, a primal need fueled by Daniel’s unrelenting dominance. He loomed over me, his breath heavy, cock hard again, eyes locked on mine with a fierce mastery, ready to culminate our executive ecstasy. The office thrummed with the energy of our shared taboo, our professional roles a sacred bond that tightened with each touch.