Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 102
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 102 - Arielle Hawthorne lives for illegal street racing. Fast cars, high stakes, no attachments. Nate Carter races the same streets with reckless swagger and infuriating charm. Rivals by choice and partners by necessity, they’re forced together as rival crews and the police close in. Their chemistry is dangerous, their trust fragile, and falling for each other may be the riskiest move of all.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Crime Humor Cream Pie Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Body Modification Violence
The One During Halloween
Alternate Title: The One With An Angel And A Devil
NATE
Walking up to the front door of Arielle and Chase’s house, I hear the sounds of loud music and plenty of conversation. The front porch has been filled with a few Halloween decorations, including two pumpkins and some fake cobwebs.
I had decided to dress as a fallen angel.
I’m shirtless, wearing black jeans and shoes that I’ve paired with a set of black wings. I’m also wearing a dangling black lightning bolt earring on the ear that hides my freshly inked mountain range tattoo.
It was inspired by recent events. But also, it’s a reminder of the time when Arielle dressed as a dark angel and rode me during the last Halloween we spent together.
I’m positive these wings will be annoying as fuck all night, but in all honesty, I believe I’ll be too distracted to care about them.
As I enter the house, I notice quite a few people that I don’t know. However, I spot several I do. James is dressed as a 1920s looking gangster, and Zara is dressed as some sort of Greek goddess. I also know who Nadia and Jin are, but that’s only because I was spying on Arielle. Nadia’s dressed as a sexy pirate, and Jin as a firefighter.
I make it a few steps into the house before Chase makes an appearance and I immediately narrow my eyes when I realize what’s he’s dressed as—me.
He’s drawn my neck and hand tattoos on himself, dyed his hair blue, and is dressed in—what appears to be—some clothing I left here before my death. He smiles when he sees my reaction to his costume, “‘Ello there, mate.”
I throw my head back in laughter at his attempt at my accent. Biting my lower lip teasingly, I tell him, “You look the hottest you ever have.”
“It’s the accent, innit?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely the accent.”
“Have you seen Arielle? I haven’t bent her over the nearest surface in the last half hour—” he feigns as if he’s glancing around her for.
I laugh, shoving his shoulder, “Shut the fuck up, man.” I’m about to judge his costume further—to point out the inconsistencies—but someone I don’t recognize calls him. He tells me to help myself to a drink and then wanders off.
As I’m standing there, I search for her. I don’t really want to see or talk to anybody else except for her right now. Even though it’s only been like a week since I last saw her, it feels like a fucking lifetime.
When Arielle steps out from the hallway, I choke on my fucking tongue.
She’s dressed as the devil—appropriate because she’s about to tempt me into dark waters.
She’s wearing this red floor-length dress with thin straps and a deep V. It’s a bit lacy on the top, with a corseted portion just below her tits—similar to the dress she wore at the nightclub. The killer part of it is that it features slits on either side that go so high up that there’s no way she’s wearing knickers beneath it.
She knows how much I love the high slit. And red. Ah, fuck.
She’s also adorning red horns in her hair, which cascades down her shoulders. She’s done her makeup, too. Thick, black, sharp lines are painted along her lashes and a sparkly red material has been meticulously applied on her eyelids. Top that with red lipstick on her lips and I’m instantaneously hard.
She dressed carefully for this with me in mind. Good. That means I’m in her head, exactly where I want to be.
You want to play, babygirl? Then let’s play.
I can feel the moment she realizes I’m here and that I’m eyeing her up, thinking depraved thoughts about marking every inch of her skin in various ways. Lovebites, kisses, red tainted skin from my hand spanking her ass, my cum painted over her flesh—all of it a way to mark her as mine.
It’s fucked, I know.
Maybe even more fucked at how much she’d love it—angry at me or otherwise.
She takes in my attire and I see her wetting her lips at the sight. She likes what she’s seeing, but she does her best to hide it. As I approach her, I place a hand to her waist as I kiss her cheek, my breath hot against her ear as I greet her with, “You look fucking amazing.”
When I retract, I sense more than one set of eyes on us, but I really couldn’t fucking care less. The only thing I truly care about here is her.
“I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
Fucking liar.
I raise an eyebrow in skepticism. The way she’s dressed tells me otherwise. It’s way too fucking obvious. I simply smirk in her direction, deciding not to call her out on it.
How interesting that we both dressed on the dark side. Perhaps we’re far too similar.
She playfully rolls her eyes at the sly smile playing on my mouth and then heads to the kitchen. I follow her, admiring the curves of her ass as she walks in her heels carefully. I pour myself a drink, using a Sharpie to label my cup and then turn to her.
She pretends to ignore my presence, even when I move to stand behind her as she decides which liquor to drink. “Try this,” I slide some vodka in her direction, “Trust me.”
At the sound of my voice, she spins to face me. “You expect me to trust you, when you didn’t tell me that you’ve been Najjad this entire time?”
Fuck.
Alright, my girl woke up and chose violence this fine day. Let’s get straight to it then.
“Arielle—” I lean in close to her so that only she can hear our intimate conversation. Considering the music and the other people around us speaking amongst themselves, I don’t think anyone’s paying attention, but it’s none of their business either. “I apologize. I had every intention of telling you that day. I was about to before Chase kicked me out and then when he made it apparent that everything was too much for you, I wanted to give you some space. And then, well, I’ll be honest, it slipped my mind. With all that’s going on, I forgot I’d even made the profile.”
“You have no idea how pissed I was when I figured it out.”
“I’m sorry. When this whole thing happened, I started losing my fuckin’ mind without you. When you came over and told Hayes about the website, I spent hours searching the internet until I found it. Was it selfish? Yeah, ‘course it was. I can admit that. My intention was never to hurt you. It will never be to hurt you. What I was trying to do was help you grieve me. You sounded so miserable and that’s all I wanted from Najjad’s profile.”
“What about all the hints? Why drop them? Do you not realize how cruel that is to figure it all out? Mauna—mountain? Najjad—protector? The movie?”
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know that I have a good answer for that. I pause as I think it over, not wanting to tell her anything less than the whole truth. “I think I planted them with hopes that you’d catch on. You’re incredibly intelligent—the smartest woman I know. Part of me hoped you find out and then I could stop living this horrid lie. The other part of me didn’t want you to find out, ‘cause it’d put you in danger. I think that’s why I stayed so vague. It wasn’t done with the idea of making fun of you, I swear to fuckin’ God. I love you. I would never want to tear you down or make you feel like you’re less than.”
“How long were you planning on keeping him alive?”
“I have no idea. When Hayes started this plan, he told me that it could take months or even years to take Ezra down. I went along with it all, praying that it would be only a couple weeks. After a month, I became antsy, but Hayes was digging in his heels. He was terrified if we made a strike too early, that Ezra would find it fishy. That’s when Najjad was created and I’d never thought long term on how long I’d keep it up. I got swept up in it. It was my only lifeline. You are my only lifeline and I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
“Okay,” she replies. “I understand. I know you weren’t doing it for bad reasons.”
Grabbing her face in my hands, I press a kiss to her forehead. “I hope you know that if Ezra showed up right now, with a gun in his hand, I’d jump in front of that bullet. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
She leans into me, “I’m sorry if I’m cold towards you. I need time to process all this.”
“Please,” I beg, “Don’t apologize to me. You don’t owe me an apology for a single thing. If you wanted to knee me in the balls right now, I wouldn’t blame you. I’m grateful you’re even willing to have me in your presence after all that I’ve done.”
When she grabs my hand for the second time since we’ve been reunited—the first being at Ezra’s compound—it feels like so much more. It doesn’t feel forced. It feels natural, as if nothing ever happened between us. As if the last six months don’t exist.
And that’s the way I want it.
I just don’t want her to forgive and forget as though I’ve done nothing to her.
I have to figure out how to toe this weird line—one where I control myself around her and she does the same, while I’m still giving her the space she needs. I don’t know how to do that, but I don’t believe she does either.
Knowing us, we probably won’t do it right, but I think it’s inevitable. No matter how angry or upset we are with one another, the physical attraction and deep love we feel towards one another trumps everything else.
Arielle’s never been the type to hold grudges or obsess about the negative shit, either. I don’t want her to obsess over everything I’ve done to her, simply because she’s already suffered enough. I want her to be happy, she deserves so much more than that.
“I am fuckin’ mad at you, don’t get me wrong. But I appreciate that you’re being so honest with me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“And I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I swear—anything.”
She pauses, deep in thought as she brings my hand between us and plays with the rings on my fingers. As she traces my mountain range one, she inquires, “What was it like for you?”
“Anything but that.”
Please, let her drop this.
It isn’t important what I went through. I don’t want her to know and use it as some sort of excuse to forgive me in an instant. If I tell her, she’ll feel guilty and I don’t fucking want that.
“What?” She laughs, thinking I’m joking. But when she meets my eyes, she realizes I’m not. “What do you mean? You just said you’d tell me anything I wanted to know—”
Lifting my other hand up, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, hooking my index finger under her chin so she’s better able to see my resolution. “Anything but that, please,” I reiterate.
“What does it matter? I want to know.”
“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She huffs, “Is this one of your I won’t be a rat things?”
Partially, yes.
“No, it just isn’t important in any context right now.” I won’t crack on this, however, I honestly don’t think she will either.
Her eyes narrow, “I’ll find out—one way or another, babyboy.”
Did she just—
I smirk, “No, you won’t. Not if I don’t want you to find out.”
She wets her lips, nodding her head. “Right, ‘cause you’re so fuckin’ good at lying, right?”
I swallow with difficulty, not liking the sound of that. “Arielle—”
That seems to be all she take, or maybe all she wants to deal with me. She grabs my cup from the table—labelled with my name—and puts it to her mouth, chugging it back. When she glances down at it, she notices she’s smudged her lipstick and she gives me a glare before walking off.
She’s like the epitome of one of those Sirens you read about—the ones that seduce and lure men to do dark shit. So beautiful, that she has to be fictional. Yet, I follow her, not giving a single fuck about where she’s leading me.
Hell, she’s not even leading me. I’m simply following like a lovesick puppy.
She heads right into the depths of her bedroom—which hasn’t changed much in the six months since I saw it last—and into her attached washroom.
“What do you want? Get out of here.”
As I step into her bathroom, I close the door, stopping behind her. “There’s something else you need to know that I just remembered.”
She turns around to face me, popping a hip out, clearly displeased with what I’ve just uttered. “Spill your guts.”
May I rearrange yours instead?
Fuck, focus.
“I was there the night you went out to the nightclub.”
She was fiddling with—what I think is—a tube of mascara, but she pauses when she absorbs what I’ve admitted. “What do you mean you were there?”
With a shrug, I admit, “QuickDraw was gone for the night, so I dressed in disguise and I followed you to the club.”
“And why would you do that?”
“To make sure you were safe.”
She nods her head. At this point, I don’t think she’s surprised at anything I tell her anymore. “I was with multiple other people. Why wouldn’t I have been safe? Was Ezra after me?”
I instinctively take a step towards her. “No, of course not. I know in retrospect, it seems moronic and dangerous, but, fuck—” I run a hand through my hair. “I can’t explain it myself, Arielle. I have this undying, inexplicable, all-consuming need to protect you and keep you safe.”
Something about what I’ve said causes her to react and she nearly drops the makeup. I’m not sure if I’ve rendered her speechless or what, but she simply stares at me with her mouth open. She stays like that for a beat, then seems to recollect herself and appears thoughtful.
“Does that mean you saw me and—”