Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 108
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 108 - 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 With A Tease
(That Doesn’t End At That)
NATE
We’re driving along in a side-by-side off-road vehicle, following the coast of the ocean. Before we departed, we were told a bunch of safety regulations—like not going over a certain speed—but I haven’t exactly been following them. Fuck it, I know what I’m doing.
Which results in Arielle and myself getting substantially further ahead than the rest of the crew. Chase was the car directly in front of us, but once I passed him, he’s now nowhere to be seen.
Arielle hasn’t been able to wipe the smile from her face, dressed in this cute outfit—pink shorts that are high at the waist with a little bow on the front and a white one-shoulder top that tucks underneath them.
The last few days here in Greece have been indescribable. I wouldn’t want it to be anything else. Arielle and I are finally where I’ve wanted us to be for so many months. We’re happy. We’re together. She’s forgiven me. There isn’t much else I want in the world right now.
As I race up the hill, Arielle’s laughter fills my ears and she grips on tightly to the roll cage. With the speed we’re going, I’m able to drift the corner at the top effortlessly, the adrenaline feeling so fucking good. It feels familiar and I’ve missed it more than I’d like to admit.
Eventually, I see the area the business has fenced off as the end of the off-road trail and I come to a stop on the edge of it, facing the view. Where we park, it overlooks a ledge that features a view sweeping out over the ocean. We can hear the waves as they crash against the shore below us.
This is our last day full day here in Greece and I don’t want it to end. It’s been far too perfect. I’ve been pondering over the idea of staying or going elsewhere together for a few extra days. Just the two of us. To have our own little mini vacation.
One full of—well, a lot of fucking, to start.
Turning to Arielle, I demand more than ask, completely out of nowhere, “Come with me to Anguilla.”
She turns to look at me, the wind catching her ponytail, causing it to billow behind her. “What?”
“Tomorrow we’re supposed to fly home,” I explain. “Let’s change our flights and go to Anguilla for a few extra days. Just the two of us.”
I reach for her hand, and she smiles, “You’re serious?”
I nod my head, “The renovations on my place aren’t done. If we stayed for four or five days, I’d be able to go home to my home and not QuickDraw’s basement dungeon.”
She throws her head back in laughter at the mention of that last part. “And what would I do with Storm?”
I shrug, “I’m sure Chase can watch him. It’s only a few days.”
We can rent our own little place on the beach where I can have her be as loud as she wants. Here, we have way too many neighbours to worry about pissing off.
Reaching over, I press the buckle that rests between her thighs and the seatbelt loosens. Grabbing her hand, I urge her over the space that separates us and into my lap. As she settles, my one hand rests on her waist, while the other brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“What d’you say?”
She presses her hands to my chest, playing with the buttons. “I’d like to go away with you.”
Cupping her jaw, I kiss her. “When everyone leaves tomorrow, we’ll stay one more night—have the house to ourselves—and then we’ll fly to Anguilla.”
“The house to ourselves, huh?”
I smirk in the soft curve of her neck, “That pool table is looking pretty good, but it’d look better with you bent over it.”
Arielle somehow manages to convince me to go shopping with her. Even though it doesn’t entirely sound like something I’d enjoy doing, the idea of spending the afternoon alone with her is enough to get me to agree. I’d much rather watch her try on clothing for me than lay on a beach and fucking burn.
After finger fucking her in the shower, I’m not exactly sure where we stand. We both seem to be initiating physical contact—constant kissing, hand holding, and other little touches—but as we stand, there hasn’t been any sort of conversation about it.
To be fair, when we first started dating, we never had any sort of discussion about it. It was unspoken and obvious that we belonged to one another.
That we haven’t belonged to anyone else, even in the distances that were created.
Arielle has chosen a few articles of clothing and she forced me to rest in a chair in the changing area. Nobody else is around and we’re somewhat secluded back here, but anyone could still step in at any moment.
I settle into the chair, relaxing my knees apart. While waiting, I decide to scroll through some of the photos I’ve taken while on vacation. Arielle is still my background and I have no intentions of changing it anytime soon.
The first outfit she steps out in is a pair of black jeans with massive rips in the knees and an off the shoulder, baggy knit jumper. The jumper itself nearly swallows her up, but she still looks beautiful.
Arielle knows that there’s a few things that I love seeing her in. The first of which is obviously beautiful lingerie that accentuates her natural curves. The second is anything off the shoulder because it highlights the gorgeous angles of her collarbones. But my absolute favourite is the thigh high slit and she fucking knows it.
She makes eye contact with me in the mirror, spinning to face me. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” I state, my throat jogging in a swallow.
She heads back into the room to switch clothes in record time.
Or maybe it’s because I get lost in appreciating a photo of her with a massive smile on her face as she laughs at something Chase said.
The second thing she steps out in is something more dressy. Almost like a business outfit, where I can imagine her going to work for a rich CEO every day. Perhaps I’d be the CEO behind the desk that I’d bend her over in secret while all the other workers are distracted at a meeting.
It consists of white dress slacks, a lacy tank top tucked into the waistband, and a white suit jacket that she’s draped over her shoulders.
She looks elegant, yet understatedly sexy.
The third is another off the shoulder dress. It’s black, with red flowers freckled all over. The sleeves are full length, but the hem is short, featuring a bit of frill on it.
It looks like the perfect thing for date night. Something that I can imagine myself taking her out for dinner in. She looks beautiful, as always.
“Definitely a yes,” I inform her.
Before she enters the room to change, she takes a final glance at me, warning, “You’ll like the next one.”
In preparation, I lock my phone and put it in my pocket so she has my full, undivided attention.
After a few minutes, Arielle steps out in leather pants and I almost lose it.
Leather pants that are so tight to her curves that I can see it all. Every bit of cellulite on her full ass. Each piece of her legs that I can imagine perfectly without the material.
The sides of the pants are exposed—similar to the dress. There’s an entire portion up the outer side of each leg that is bare other than a crisscross pattern that ascends it.
On the top, she’s chosen to wear something that opposes the darkness of black leather—a pink crop top slash corset with pink flowers that is also, almost entirely transparent.
Leaning forward in the chair, I meet her eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “A thousand percent, yes,” I growl, wetting my lips.
That outfit makes me want to have her join me during a race and then take her into the back seat of the car and fuck her after I win.
Seeing her thigh tattoo peeking through the open zigzag pattern on the side has me adjusting the growing hard on that’s making an appearance at a very inopportune moment. Knowing what awaits me underneath the tight leather—especially that piercing nestled between the heaven of her thighs—is enough to make me grip the edges of the chair hard.
My mouth fucking waters at the idea.
Arielle approaches me, standing between my spread knees. My hands are immediately on her, smoothing over the leather that’s tight to her body. She glances down at me, threading her fingers in my hair.
“You like?”
My hand—which was running over the supple curve of her ass—comes down on it, the leather adding to the slapping sound that echoes around us. As my hands dig into her ass, she smirks.
“One more outfit,” she informs me. “And then we’re going back to the house.”
“Arielle—” I’m not really sure why I’m calling out to her. I think part of me is desperate to leave and the other piece of wants to see more of her.
She runs her tongue along her lower lip, biting down on it. Leaning over to press her mouth to mine, she muses, “What do you always say to me? Patience, babyboy.”
And then she heads back in to change.
When she steps out, it knocks the air from my lungs. It’s a red dress, but there’s so little fabric, I’m not sure it could be considered a dress. The collar is high, with a gold band on it that makes it appear almost like a necklace or choker. From the collar, the material flows down in two separate strips that cover her tits just barely. The entire valley between her breasts is exposed, right to her navel. The lower part of the dress has one thin strand around her waist above the belly button, followed by the remainder of the lower half, which sits low on her waist. The bottom of it has a cutout on the one hip, with a knot below, that leaves the entire hip bone exposed.
I stand from the chair, approaching her from behind. With my hands to her waist, I put my chin on the curve of her shoulder, lifting my gaze to meet her eyes in the reflection, my voice is a low husk as I warn, “We need to get home. Now.”
I ghost my mouth up the curve of her neck, licking along the shell of her ear. For added effect, I lightly thrust my pelvis into her ass, my grip tightening on her waist.
She smiles and then turns to the small room.
Before she enters, I demand, “And we’re buying that dress in every fuckin’ colour they have.”
While she’s changing back into her clothing and gathering all that we’ll buy, I decide to take a gander around the store. I want to find something, purchase it and surprise her with it.
It’s only when I find a lingerie set that I freeze in my tracks, knowing I have to purchase it for her. I don’t give a fuck how much it costs. If they don’t have her size, I’ll order it. I don’t give a shit, she has to have it. And I have to bury my cock in her while she’s wearing it.
The entire ensemble is black, but completely see-through, and speckled with pink and red hearts. Just like the fantasy I had the other day. It includes four pieces—a bra, G-string, garter belt, and a lace choker. The garter has these little pieces on the hips that flare out, with pieces of fabric layered that I think will accentuate her hips beautifully.
My favourite part, however, is the bra. Though the outline of the cups are visible, there is no cup. Only a bit of flared fabric—similar to the hips on the garter belt—at the top of the tits. Which means that even while wearing the bra, I’ll have open access to her nipple piercings.
The idea alone makes my mouth water.
In other words, it’s my perfect fantasy. My little erotic art piece where I can fuck Arielle while she remains wearing a beautiful piece of lingerie.
When we get back to the house, I’m going to fuck her in this.
Wasting no time, I find her size and run to the cashier to ring it up.
When she steps out of the bathroom in the lingerie I got for her, I nearly swallow my fucking tongue.
It fits her perfectly. As if it was specifically stitched for her body.
She’s even gone and switched out her nipple jewelry to hearts. She must have already owned them and brought them, but the specifics don’t matter when she looks so fucking gorgeous.
“Arielle—” I stand to my feet, unabashedly admiring her curves.
What did I ever do to get this lucky? She’s the epitome of everything flawless. There isn’t a single thing I’d change about her.
I know there’s air somewhere in this room, but I can’t seem to find any in my lungs because she’s knocked it right out. I know there’s blood in my body too—blood that should be helping my brain work to formulate a sentence—but I know for a fact that it’s all gone straight to my dick.
“You look like a man in a lingerie store staring at the mannequins.” She smiles, extending a smooth leg in front of her that I want wrapped around my waist like a belt.
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