Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL] Chapter 11: R18

They reached the financial district faster than Lance expected.

The buildings were taller here, sharper, made of glass that reflected the city like it belonged to soone richer, colder, and far above his tax bracket.

The Porsche rolled past the security gate of Lowell Corporation without stopping.

The guards didn’t even look inside the car once they recognized the plate number.

The driver glanced at Lance as they pulled into the underground parking lot. "You must be soone important. Even I still get asked for my ID when I’m off-duty."

Lance huffed a laugh, adjusting his jacket. "Trust , I’m not."

"Mr. Lowell doesn’t waste ti on unimportant people.." the driver replied as he parked. "Na’s Benjamin, by the way."

"Lance."

They shook hands briefly before Benjamin got out and opened the door for him.

Lance stepped onto the polished concrete floor, trying not to look too overwheld as Benjamin guided him to the private elevator.

Inside, the elevator walls were mirrored and spotless, the kind of reflective surface that made every insecurity three tis louder.

Benjamin pressed the button for the top floor.

Only one button existed above the executive levels, the CEO SUITE.

Lance swallowed.

"You don’t have to be nervous.." he said.

"Mr. Lowell is... strict. But he’s fair."

Lance wasn’t sure that was supposed to comfort him.

They rode in silence for a few seconds before Benjamin spoke again. "He doesn’t usually send cars to pick soone..."

Lance stared straight ahead. "Lucky ."

Benjamin tried not to smile. "You’ll be fine."

When the elevator reached the top floor, Benjamin stepped aside and gestured toward the doors.

"This is your stop. Mr. Lowell will be inside."

Lance nodded again. "Thank you."

Benjamin didn’t follow him out. The elevator doors closed behind Lance, leaving him standing in a quiet hallway.

There was only one door on this floor.

No reception desk, no assistants, nothing.

Just a single, imposing door that led to the CEO’s office.

His palms felt damp against his jeans.

Today would be the first ti he interacted with Ansel while sober.

The first ti he had to stand in front of him without the shield of alcohol, without the haze of bad decisions protecting him from reality.

He drew in a breath, slow and steady.

He reached for the handle.

And knocked once before pushing the door open.

The office was enormous—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the financial district, dark wooden floors, shelves filled with books and neatly arranged docunts, a minimalist aesthetic that sohow still looked insanely expensive.

And at the far end of the room stood Ansel Lowell.

Tall, sharp-featured, dark eyes trained on Lance the mont he walked in.

Hands tucked into his pockets, posture effortless but unnervingly commanding.

This was the first ti Lance saw him clearly while sober.

And it hit him all at once.

This man was dangerous in a completely different way than Henry.

"Lance, you’re late."

Lance stiffened, the baritone coming out from Ansel’s mouth was amazing.

He shook his head, this wasn’t the ti to get carried away.

"I’m sorry, Sir.."

Ansel sank into the chair, arms on the arm rest, hands interlocked.

"Co here.."

Lance gulped as he walked towards the desk.

When he got to the desk, he paused there unsure of how close Ansel wanted him to get.

"I said co closer.." Ansel eyes were still on Lance, his stare so deep, Lance felt naked despite being clothes.

He took two more steps, now he was standing next to Ansel.

He didn’t know what to expect or what Ansel wanted him to know.

"You answered my call late and still had the nerve to arrive late. Aren’t you a little gusty for a slave, Lance?"

-_-

Lance bit his lips, this was all Henry’s fault, if it wasn’t for him he’d have answered the call sooner.

"I’m sorry, Sir. I wasn’t intentional.."

Ansel stroked his chin, whether he was pleased with Lance’s apology or not.

His expression was too straight for Lance to pick anything up.

"Pull your pants down and bend over the table.."

-_-

Lance froze, were they going to start just like that?

In his own world, Lance didn’t notice Ansel’s hand coming.

Piak!

A sharp sound reverberated through the room, as Lance stared at Ansel in shock as the man pushed him down.

"When I tell you to bend, you bend. I don’t like repeating myself.."

Lance bit his lips as he pulled his pants and boxers down, leaving his behind bare in front of Ansel.

Behind him, he could hear the drawer opening and Ansel had brought out a briefcase.

Lance didn’t dare look at what Ansel was doing.

He heard a tight snap, and figured Ansel was probably putting on so gloves.

The sharp snap of the latex glove made Lance jolt, his bare ass clenching involuntarily against the cool, polished wood of the desk.

His cheek was still pressed where Ansel had shoved him down, the scent of lemon polish and expensive cologne filling his nostrils.

Behind him, he heard the briefcase latch release with a definitive click, followed by the soft rustle of items being arranged.

"You need to learn the consequence of wasting my ti, Lance," Ansel’s voice was a low, controlled rumble, devoid of anger but brimming with unshakable authority.

It was a tone that promised a thorough, inescapable lesson.

Lance heard a soft squirt, followed by the opening of a bottle cap.

A mont later, a thick, warm glob of lubricant landed directly on his exposed hole.

He gasped, the heat of it startling and intense, a stark contrast to the cool air of the office.

Ansel’s gloved finger, slick and demanding, didn’t tease. It circled his rim once, a fleeting, torturous promise, before it pushed inside with a single, smooth thrust.

The sound was obscenely wet in the silence of the room.

"Fuck," Lance breathed out, his fists clenching against the desk. The hot lube was already doing its work, a deep, spreading warmth that made his insides feel pliant and sensitive.

"You will not speak unless I give you permission," Ansel stated, his voice flat. A second finger joined the first, the sounds from the lubricant louder now as he began to work Lance open, the stretch imdiate and dizzying. "Your only job is to take what I give you. Is that understood?"