Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 126
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 126 - 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 Where He Turns Dream Into Reality
NATE
Arielle looks radiant tonight, as always.
In fact, I happen to believe she’s dressed purposefully to torture me this Valentine’s Day. She’s dressed in the crimson dress she tried on for me in Greece. The one that, after I witnessed her dressed in it, I demanded we buy it in one of every fucking colour.
It’s the red one—where there’s a collar that almost looks like a choker that holds up two scraps of fabric that drape over her tits, revealing the entire valley between her breasts right down to her belly button. The hem of the skirt is angled, with a knot and a fairly large piece cut out on the hip.
The dress denies her from wearing any knickers whatsoever and I’m acutely aware of that fact. It also exposes her nipple piercings—which are poking against the silken fabric, constantly distracting me—as well as the various tattoos that decorate her skin.
She looks fucking delectable, and it makes me want to say fuck it to our first official dinner date as fiancée and fiancé and push the hem of her dress up to fuck her with my tongue.
I was barely able to drive. I can’t truly focus when she looks the way she does. I still can’t believe that she’s chosen me to be with.
We’re currently out to dinner, finishing off the remnants of our meals. However, all I can think about is hauling Arielle’s luscious ass up onto this table that separates us, spreading her knees and making a meal out of her. In fact, my mouth waters at the idea of it.
I’ve never been a big Valentine’s Day guy. I don’t remember the last time I celebrated it. I think this is actually the first time Arielle and I will do something for it—I’ve been in prison or dead for most other holidays.
If I wouldn’t have been elsewhere, I absolutely would’ve taken my girl out to spoil her. She deserves it. She always has and she always will.
As a little gift to her for this joke of a holiday—I shouldn’t think that, not when it’s given Arielle an excuse to dress up like this for me—I gave her a massive bouquet of red daisies and roses, a Polaroid camera she’s been eyeing up, and a few orgasms to be gifted later.
She gave me some wicked cool engraved whiskey glasses. Although, she really didn’t need to gift me a single thing when I get to stare at her from across this table for over an hour during our meal.
Plus, I have a sneaky little plan after this that’s going to make it a night to remember.
I haven’t told her about it, but I have no doubts that when we get there, she’ll know exactly why we’re there.
Arielle lifts her wine glass to her red-stained lips and the sight alone almost gets me hard. “I like that shirt on you,” she informs me.
I glance down at the olive-green Henley I’m wearing, lifting my head to observe her gaze wander down to the bits of my chest tattoos that peek out from the single undone button. When she bites down on her lower lip in appreciation, it makes me want to bend her over this table right in front of all these other people.
“I like that lack of dress on you,” I tease.
She smiles, her tongue darting out to lick the remnants of wine off her lips.
As she places the glass down, the diamond on her engagement ring catches in the lights above us, causing it to sparkle. I love seeing it, because it ensures me that it’s hard to miss.
“Are you ready to go, my love?”
My stomach leaps with excitement.
By the time we’re at our destination, the clouds are starting to look rather dark—ominous enough in colour that it makes me believe it’s going to rain, possibly even storm. “Wanna’ tell me what we’re doing here?”
When I glance at her and her reaction to being at Ezra’s compound, I expect her to be a bit worried. However, she’s trusting me wholeheartedly. She only appears intrigued and perhaps a bit confused.
“Call it curiosity,” I tell her.
She quirks an eyebrow, glancing towards the front door. “And how exactly are you planning on getting in?”
I pop open the center console, digging to the bottom of it. Eventually, I find what I’m looking for and I lift it up between us so she’s able to see. When she realizes that I have a key, she inquires, “How do you know he hasn’t changed the locks since you were here last?”
“He probably has.” I shrug. “But it’s worth a shot, yeah? What d’you say? Are you up for it?”
“As long as you’re with me, I’m up for anything.”
I lean across the console to grip her chin between my thumb and forefinger and press a kiss to her mouth. “It looks like it’s going to rain though, so we’d better hurry.”
“I don’t mind getting wet.” As she says so, she reaches a hand over to draw it up my leg, leaving no mistake as to what she means. This time it’s her that’s closing the distance between us to give me a lingering kiss and then she’s hopping out of my Camaro before I can reply.
I follow her out of the vehicle and up the walk to the front of the building, admiring the way she sways her hips purposefully for me as she does so. She makes it about five steps from the doors before she turns to face me as rain begins to spit.
I try urging her forward, into the safe space under the overhang, but she puts a hand to my chest to stop me. A flash of lightning forks to the earth behind her and my eyes meet Arielle’s. When a crack of loud thunder echoes nearby—signaling the storm is very close—I see the smirk curve on her lips and then she’s grabbing my nape to fuse our mouths together.
Just as it begins to fucking pour.
And I don’t mean a light splash of water. I mean instantly soaked in a matter of a few seconds because the rain is driving down so hard and heavy.
Neither of us cares.
When we’re together, there’s no storm—man made or created by nature—that could break us apart ever again. I can promise that.
We don’t pull apart. We don’t even flinch as the water seeps through our clothing and dampens our skin. We don’t break the kiss until we’re forced to in order to catch our breath.
Arielle wears a massive smile, despite the fact that the time she’d spent getting ready for our dinner date was for nothing. She steals the key from my hand and walks to the door to jam it into the lock.
When it shockingly twists and there’s an audible click, she turns to me with a gasp. “He never changed the locks?”
I glance around at the space above the door, where I’m aware of the fact that some cameras used to live. During the time I worked for Ezra, I learned quite a bit about his security system. I know he had the place wired for video and for sound. He also had some weird ass, advanced alarm that I was never allowed to go near.
“How’d you even get this key?”
I shrug, “I found it in Langley’s car. There were two identical ones. He was always losing shit, I figured he wouldn’t miss it.”
I realize I’ve been sitting on this key for the entire last few months of the vendetta we had against Ezra, however, there was nothing I could do about it. At that time, he still had this entire building rigged up and he would’ve known the second we stepped foot into his compound.
Now? Langley told Hayes and I that he was forced to disable the system because he didn’t have the staff anymore. The threats that once existed that would potentially come after him, were gone. They didn’t give a fuck about a frail, old man without anybody on his side. His enemies all figure he’ll die eventually and it’s easier than getting blood on their hands.
I honestly don’t know if Langley knows I’ve stolen a key from him. I doubt it. I think if he was aware, he would’ve sought out revenge in some fashion. But who knows? Who the fuck even cares anymore?
Arielle turns back to the door to push it open carefully—as if she’s afraid some tripwire will go off and an alarm will begin to blare around us, signaling the cops are on their way.
I step to her, my chest to her back, as I reach over her to literally shove the door open, proving to her that there’s no threat. We’re safe.
I allow her to walk in front of me, pushing my wet hair up and off my face. I watch her begin down the hall, swaying her hips with each step. She drags the tips of her fingers along the bricks in the wall, as if she’s reminiscing about the last time she was here.
The last time we were here, we’d come together. The two of us walked in here like a force to be reckoned with. We held hands and stormed into Ezra’s office to prove to him that despite all that he’d thrown in our direction, he hadn’t broken us up.
Stepping into his office is fucking strange. It’s a ghost town. It once used to be crowded with rich, luxurious furniture. It now only has his desk, and a bunch of medical equipment.
The chairs I once sat in—where Ezra threatened me while I studied a fleck of blood speckled near the padded armrest—are gone. His massive throne that he used to spin in for effect is also gone. I imagine the latter is because he needs to scoot his wheelchair under the surface to sit at his desk.
Arielle saunters straight to the piece of furniture, slowly dragging her fingertips over the surface. I take a minute to glance around at the space, shaking off all the negative memories. So many reside here. These walls have seen and heard shit that I don’t think anyone could truly imagine.
Despite all the thoughts swirling in my head, I glance at my fiancée where she stands with her gaze fixed on mine, like she’s waiting for me to make a move. She knows what we’re here for, she isn’t naïve to that fact.
I walk to her and appreciate her for a moment. For everything that she is and stands for. For choosing to stand beside me for the remainder of my life, through the good and the bad. For being the most incredible soul I could ever know.
With my hands on her hips and my mouth bruising hers, I step forward, forcing her backwards until her luscious ass hits the edge of his desk. She laughs playfully when she touches the surface and I imagine it’s likely because she’s feeling just as naughty as I am doing this.
It feels naughty, yes, to be here and to be fulfilling this dream, but it also feels so fucking right. It’s good, harmless revenge.
I lift a hand, very softly dragging a knuckle along her cheekbone. Despite getting caught in a storm and getting soaked, she still manages to look beautiful. Her eye makeup is running slightly down her freckled cheeks, her hair—which was once styled to perfection—is damp and stuck to her skin.
I glance down at the dress, which now clings gloriously to her body. If I thought the article of clothing looked incredible before, now it’s even tighter to her and it’s probably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen her wear.
And it’s in my favourite colour.
“Touch me,” she demands, threading her fingers through my wet hair to push it up and out of my eyes where it’s fallen again. The fact that she’s wearing my ring on her finger while we’re about to do this feels all that more perfect.
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