Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 122
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 122 - 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 Retirement
NATE
Today is a big day for me.
It’s the day of my retirement—the last illegal street race I will ever partake in.
It’s also Arielle’s last race that she’ll attend. She decided to retire without doing another race, however, she’ll be sitting in the passenger’s seat of my Camaro as I drive. She’ll be cheering me on from right beside me.
It’s going to be hard as fuck to concentrate, though. Arielle chose to wear the leather pants she bought in Greece—the ones that are not only skintight, but have the lace up pattern up the sides, exposing beautiful, tattooed skin that I’m acutely aware aren’t covered by any sort of knickers. She’s also adorning one of my band tees, which I think is her way of proving to everyone else that she’s taken.
Arielle and I made the decision a few weeks ago that it’s time to grow up and become regular adults, working regular jobs. I think we’ve both had more than enough of our fair share of danger and adrenaline. We’ve both gotten to this state where I believe we know we’re entering a new phase in life and we don’t want to be up at night, worrying about the future or our safety.
After everything we both went through with Ezra, Lieutenant Dickwad, QuickDraw, prison, and rival drivers, I think it’s safe to say we’ve had enough. These last few months that we’ve been reunited—for good—has made me realize how wonderful our life can be together without other people constantly interfering.
Arielle was the first of us to go off and look for a job. She ended up scoring an interview where she succeeded in getting the job. She’s now doing schooling to become an auto electrician. Basically, she’ll be responsible for inspecting, repairing, and maintaining anything and everything on vehicles that is electrical—shit like headlights, the alarm system, circuit boards, and the dashboard warning lights.
There aren’t a lot of women in the field, and I do worry a bit about how the men will treat her, but in all honesty, I’m totally and completely proud of her. She’s making advancements in a male-oriented field, and I know she’ll kick ass doing so. She can hold her own and I’m positive she’ll be excellent at the job.
I’m excited for her. For her future. But I’m also the tiniest bit sad because with her off at school, learning electrician shit, she’s not home as often. Which only means that when she starts the position, she’ll be away even more.
I cherish the moments I have with her. I can admit that it’s a tough thing dealing with the idea of losing minutes with her.
Alas, that’s how life works.
Because Arielle has stepped up and is doing what she can to become a proper adult, I’ve done the same. I started looking for jobs. It’s been a couple weeks, but I think I finally found something that might be right for me.
It’s called an auto designer. Essentially, I’d be responsible for designing the interior and exterior of new car models.
Obviously, I’m fairly positive they won’t allow me to jump right into designing the exterior of a big model car, but I’m sure it’ll be a cool thing to rise up the ranks. Maybe they’ll start me off with creating toy cars or something and I’ll work up to the point of being known and doing the actual thing.
When I was looking, I wanted something that revolves around cars, but I also wanted something creative. I’d always figured that I’d end up becoming something simple—like a mechanic. However, not only was I none too pleased with the salary of a mechanic, but there really isn’t much creative aspect to it. I happen to believe that I’m somewhat of an artsy person and if I didn’t have some sort of outlet to release that, I reckon I’d go mad.
The best part of the job—if I happen to succeed in the interview and get it—is that it’s at the very same business that Arielle will be working.
I’d been looking for a job for a couple weeks and then Arielle had heard through the grapevine at her place of employment that they were looking for an auto designer. She inquired more about it, came home to inform me of the job, and the next day, I was sending in an application.
Turns out they were doing their best to not have to post the job listing publicly, so I think that my chances might be much greater. The pool of potential interviewees will have decreased substantially considering they haven’t made the job public.
I’ve been studying the business itself heavily with Arielle’s encouragement. I fucking want this job. Not only would it be incredible, but to get to work alongside my girl each day has me desperate for it.
Not to mention, the pay is fantastic for both jobs. Arielle and I would be raking in the cash and doing so without endangering our lives.
I’ve already been imagining working alongside Arielle. Having her step into my office to help design interior or exterior lights. Listening to her input and appreciating what she has to say.
Also, like, shoving all the papers off the surface of the desk and bending her over it.
That’s a plus, too.
I know it’ll happen at some point. How could it not?
Anyways, Mum is rather pleased with the idea of me working for a living. Can’t lie, I understand where she’s coming from. She spent many a night, worried that the cops would be calling her to inform her they’d found my body.
I was never even close to that scenario, until Ezra made his appearance in my life. Once Ezra Sullivan made himself known, the cops could’ve been calling Mum on a monthly basis. However, I’ve never properly told her of Ezra’s existence, nor fully explained the sort of presence he had in my life.
Lucky for me, we still haven’t heard a peep from him. Arielle and I checked in with Hayes about a week ago. He popped over to give us a little housewarming gift—a case of beer—and we chatted for a bit.
He told us that Langley’s looking at a sentence upwards of life in prison for attempting to murder his father. They’ve got him on a slew of other charges too. Hayes said that odds are, he’ll get convicted on at least something. There are way too many charges pending against him for him to not get convicted of one of them.
He told us that Ezra has homecare. A couple nurses that take care of him around the clock. He must have enough money to pay for that, I guess. Or maybe it’s a part of Langley’s charges—that he’ll have to pay for his father’s health care for the remainder of his life.
Hayes informed us that Ezra spends his days at home and still occasionally visits his office. There’s no one at the office—no more staff and it’s essentially abandoned—but Hayes said the nurses believe he likes to do so because it brings him a sense of calm and peace, as if he’s reliving his glory days. They put him behind his desk, and he asks for privacy for a couple hours.
That’s it.
Other than that, his health has deteriorated a bit more. The effects of the poison still linger and with him being immobile, I guess the pieces of his body that once had the strength to fight off the chronic effects of the poison, no longer have the power to do so. Because of this, he will never walk again. I believe he’ll likely die in another year or two, considering he just doesn’t have the will to live anymore—physically or mentally.
It feels karmic, for sure. However, I can’t help but feel the tiniest bit bad. Despite everything he ever did to me, I understand that he must’ve gone through some sort of sick and twisted trauma to be the way he is. I saw some of it firsthand in the way he dealt with Langley.
It’s generational bullshit that just continually gets passed down. Although, one can only hope that generation to generation, it slowly dissipates until there’s none left.
I press down on the accelerator, revving my engine as I meet Arielle’s gaze. I can see the excitement in her eyes. She’s giving me this look that reads how much she’d love for me to win this race and then take her somewhere secluded to thrust my fingers into her pussy and feel how wet it made her.
Which, now that I’ve thought it, it’ll happen.
I wasn’t going to compete in any more races. I’m already at the top of my game, I don’t have shit to prove to anyone. However, Chase, of all people, managed to convince me. When Arielle gave me a bit of encouragement to do so—telling me that I look hot as fuck behind the wheel—I caved rather quickly.
Arielle admitted that she honestly didn’t care about participating in the race tonight. She was more excited to see me one last time. She made a comment about wanting to burn it into her memory, to which I laughed at.
But whatever my baby wants, my baby gets.
It isn’t a particularly big race. I’ll be going up against six other drivers. I only know one of the other drivers. I’ve gotten old enough that majority of the other racers are newbies that I don’t even know, which I’m honestly not sure how to feel about.
I know I’ll be able to beat them. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind. I’m more unsure of who these people are. I hope they aren’t dirty drivers and know how to run clean.
Arielle suddenly leans over the centre console, grabbing my jaw in her hand to press a lingering kiss to my lips. “Good luck, babyboy.”
I smile, “I don’t need luck, my love.”
As she settles back in her seat, securing her seatbelt over her chest, she laughs, “I know. You’ve got this.”
My eyes depart from her, glancing out the window to the guy beside us. When we make eye contact, we nod to one another and then he blatantly checks out my girl as if I’m not right fucking here. He’s been doing so ever since we arrived, and it brings out the fucking caveman in me—I want to ram my fist in his face for even bothering to attempt to check out Arielle.
He can get fucked.
I focus back on the road, relaxing one hand on the wheel and the other on the shifter. I have my feet where they need to be in preparation for the clutch, as well. I grab a pair of sunglasses and put them on, bringing my attention to the person who’s getting ready to wave the flag to signal our start.
Once they ensure that they have everyone’s attention, they raise an arm and pause for a moment, before dropping the flag. The second they do so, I’m on the accelerator, taking off into first place with little to no difficulty.
The first part of the track is a straightaway and I focus on driving, feeling Arielle’s eyes burning a hole into the side of me. I can fucking feel how she’s looking at me. She’s staring at me, in that sexy way that tells me she’s turned on. Which is only confirmed when I see her pressing her thighs together out of the corner of my eye.
What is it with women being so horny over how men look when they drive?
I mean, I guess I can’t blame them. Seeing Arielle behind the wheel, driving in that way that she does, has me hard as fuck in an instant.
I round the corner, taking a second to glance in the rearview mirror to see two cars hot on my tail—a silver Supra, and a Civic with thermochromic paint. Both vehicles are the new guys. In fact, the one guy I knew coming into this is nowhere to be seen. However, I don’t exactly care enough to lean back and pay any close attention to it.