Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 13
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 13 - 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’s Rather Coldhearted
“Faster, faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death.” — Unknown
A/N: sorry for such a delay! pls forgive me and love me and leave lots of comments since y’all know they’re my fav and i miss y’all:( and it’s an extra long chapter:)
Z A Y N
When Sara takes me back to her place, it takes everything within me to not search her house. I literally itch to explore and find dirt on her prick father, but I know I have to repress that urge.
Instead, I panic over possibly being exposed to her father much too early in my plan.
I really can’t be caught here by Lieutenant Asshole. No, not until I’ve gotten some decent shit on him, and his poor, innocent—and disgusting—daughter’s fallen in love with me. That way, he won’t want to hurt me. Because hurting me means hurting his daughter.
Aw, boo.
Safe to say that when Sara grabs my hand and pulls me through her house in a hurry, I’m happy. She immediately leads me to a room in the back of the building and shoves me inside of what I can only assume is her bedroom. She’s immediately pulling my leather jacket off my shoulders and tossing it on the other side of the small room.
It’s a quaint little room, fitting for the bungalow that is this house. The scary part is the fact that for a grown woman this room is terrifyingly childish. She still has the walls painted a pastel pink colour, the bed is a tiny sized twin, and she has stuffed animals ... everywhere.
What in the fuck–
I watch in dick softening terror as she uses both arms to brush the plush animals off her mattress and throws her body onto the surface sexily. I swallow hard, trying to hide what I’m really feeling.
Please tell me she doesn’t want to fuck.
What happened to taking things slow?
“Zee,” she mutters after a few silent moments where I manage to wander my gaze literally anywhere else. When I hear my name being called, I naturally focus back on her to find that she’s kneeling at the foot of her bed where she holds a stuffed baby elephant in her hands.
“Are you okay, Zee?” She asks it and I drag a hand over my face.
What in the fuck have I gotten myself into?
Sara carefully cradles the animal in her hands, walking over to her side table where she places the toy on top to face me. She gives it a giddy smile and then turns to me. She kicks her shoes off haphazardly and undoes the zipper to her jeans as she approaches me.
When she grabs my face in her hands and forces my lips to hers, I fight my natural instincts. Everything in me is screaming to leave this girl in the dust but I have bigger and better plans and that means that I have to put up with all of this bullshit for just a while longer.
“Where are your parents, babe?” I question as she begins to undo the buttons on my shirt.
“My dad has this dinner thing. Cop stuff.” She mumbles in between kisses to my chest.
She sinks to her knees before me, taking her time in undoing the zipper on my own jeans. Sara doesn’t say anything when she grabs my còck in her hands, soft and unenthusiastic. Instead, she sticks me in her mouth and I close my eyes to imagine this is happening with anyone else.
From there, it’s just going through the motions. Stripping, barely pleasing her, her over pleasing me to make up for my lack of arousal, fucking her from behind so I don’t have to see the way her face twists when she orgasms, pushing her face into the blankets or pillows so I don’t have to hear the shrill of her voice, and ultimately imagining I’m fucking a woman I actually enjoy fucking.
Should I feel bad about all of this?
Probably.
When we’re done after maybe ten minutes I lay naked in her weirdly silky lavender coloured sheets and try to ignore the fact that there are probably hundreds of sets of eyes on us. I swear to God these damn plushies will haunt me.
I can’t take even a moment of it, and so I stand from the bed and begin to get dressed. As I’m pulling my boxer-briefs up my legs, I hear a bang! that sounds familiar to the front door closing and nonchalantly look to Sara.
Her asshole father’s likely home and though in the scope of things I couldn’t be bothered, I hate that now I have to sneak out without raising suspicion from both him and Sara. If Sara catches wind of how much I don’t want to meet her father, she might realize I have ulterior motives and I can’t have that.
“Shit!” Sara whispers as I’m unhurriedly picking up my pants.
Sara appears panicked, rushing around me as she gets dressed. She finds the quickest article of clothing she can put on—a dress—and checks her hair in the mirror on her wall before she tells me, “Stay here, please.”
I shrug my shoulders and continue dressing myself as she excuses herself out of the room.
“Daddy, hi.” I hear her say and I smirk, doing up the final button on my shirt.
“Hi, Princess.” I listen to him reply.
“How was the dinner?” She asks him, trying to play innocent.
As I stand in her room I can feel Zee the baby elephant staring at me and so I quickly turn him around. Not giving a single fuck, I enter her little bathroom and light up a cigarette. I open the small window and drag on the stick as I fix my own hair in the reflective surface in front of me.
I don’t understand how, but Sara always manages to knot the living shit out of my hair whenever we fuck. I get that my hair is longer and most women like dragging their fingers through it—hell, I love a little hair pulling here and there—but Jesus, you’d think I had backcombed it on purpose.
I’m forced to drag my fingers through my locks, yanking out pesky knots as I go along. Cigarette balanced on my lips, I listen as Sanders asks his daughter what she’s been up to.
“Not much,” I hear her fake yawn, “Was just reading a book in bed and fell asleep.”
The way she acts makes me question if she’s above eighteen. I know she is—I literally checked her license the first time we ever met—but she doesn’t act like an adult and it’s uncomfortable, to say the least.
I drag on my cigarette and saunter back into her bedroom. When I spot a photo of her wearing a graduation cap and gown standing beside her friends, I breathe a sigh of relief. There are also a few scattered university textbooks, but for some reason I feel like she told me she was always studying.
I don’t know. I don’t fucking listen.
“Do you smell smoke?” I hear Sanders say and I smirk from behind the smoke that surrounds me.
“No, no, I don’t, Daddy.” Sara replies and I hear some footsteps towards the hallway.
“You sure?” Her father asks and the steps get closer.
Slowly, I walk to the bathroom sink and take a final drag before stubbing the cigarette out in some stray water in her sink. “Sara, I smell smoke.” Her father repeats and he’s suddenly on the other side of the door.
Really, asshole?
I look around her room, confused as to where to hide. I quickly make up her bed, place a lone book—opened—on her mattress, light the candle by her bedside and crawl myself under the mess of stuffed animals in the corner of her room. Inwardly I cringe at what surrounds me but I know it’s a good hiding spot. I’m hidden by both her bed frame and the mountain of cotton above me.
The doorknob jingles and I sigh, irritated with the situation. When the door swings open I spot Sara—through the small peephole I’ve made—as she panics and runs into the room to stop her father from finding me.
Thank God we have the same idea here.
Nate will not meet Sara’s father until due time.
When Sara notices that I’ve hidden—or left—she breathes a sigh of relief and goes back to playing innocent. Sanders looks over her daughter’s bedroom, spotting the open book, the lit candle that hides the scent, and buys into the fact that his daughter’s ever the righteous.
Meanwhile, I hide under a smelly pile of plushies where I flip off the asshole who doesn’t realize I’m here.
“The uh—” Sara stumbles on her words, giving her father an eyelash-batting look, “the neighbours were having a fire earlier.”
“I guess that must be it.” He replies as he runs a hand over his beard. “Or ought to be that restaurant we were at earlier. Allowed smoking. I swear it’s nested in my nose now.”
“Why don’t you go have a shower, maybe it’ll help.” Sara suggests.
“That’s a good idea, Princess.”
“Is Mom in bed?” She asks as her father kisses her forehead.
He nods his head. “And I think I’ll follow. Goodnight.”
“Night,” she tells him. I watch as she follows him to her doorway and closes it behind him. She waits a few moments before locking the door handle and then placing her back against the wooden surface and sinking to the ground. She hangs her head in her hands and breathes out a sigh of relief.
“The coast clear?” I ask, full well knowing it is.
Maybe this is my chance to get the fuck out of the company I currently keep, as well as sneak my way around this house to find something. Or at least fuck with the asshole.
Sara jumps and covers her mouth, startled at my voice. “You scared the crap out of me!” She scolds as she stands to her feet and approaches me. “That was a close one,” she mumbles, grabbing the edges of my jacket which she uses to tug my body to hers.
“I reckon it was.” I mumble, inhaling the scent of something fucking awful.
That’s when I realize I’ve lit a candle that reeks of cotton candy. Jesus Christ.
“I’d say it’s about time I sneak myself out of here, yeah, babe?”
Sara giggles and I look at her slightly confused. “I’m sorry. I just love your accent.”
I give her a fake smile and grab her arms in my hands, forcing her to take a step back. She doesn’t sense the distance I’m craving between us at this particular moment, but she doesn’t seem to catch onto many things honestly.
“I’ll just—I’ll sneak out the back.” I try to signal the end of our conversation and ultimately our interaction, but it’s obvious I’ve had an effect on this girl in such a short amount of time.
When she wraps her arms around my torso and presses her head against my chest, I fight the urge to sound or appear annoyed. “I’ll miss you,” she mutters against the fabric of my shirt. “I’ll see you soon, right?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “Now why don’t you slip into bed—” After saying the words, it makes me question if she’ll be curious about where I’m going with this, and so I elaborate, “You look sleepy, babe. Crawl into bed and I’ll sneak out and head home.”
She stands on her tippy toes, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “That sounds like a good idea.” She gives me a smile and then stands before me where she suddenly raises her arms. “Help me get undressed?” Sara asks, giving me a big grin.
Again, I fight the need to want to run as fast as I fucking can in the opposite direction. Instead, I grab hold of the hem of her dress and pull it over her head. She stands before me in just her knickers, watching my expression at the sight.
I observe impatiently as she saunters over to her dresser where she picks out another dress. This one appears for sleeping though, since it has a decorative piece featuring a sheep on a cloud.
Christ.
“Tuck me in?” She questions after blowing out the candle by her bedside and placing the book on her nightstand. She buries herself in the sheets, grabs Zee the baby elephant and waits for me. As if tucking in a child, I pull the blanket over her small frame and force myself to give her a kiss on the forehead. I’m about to walk away when she tsks and I turn around.
“You forgot to tuck in the edges,” she informs me, imitating how I should’ve tucked her in. I release a heavy, quiet breath and approach the bed to do exactly as she’s asked me. “Goodnight, Sara.”
“Goodnight, Nate.”
Oh how I wish I was anywhere but in this situation...
A R I E L L E
“How are you so fuckin’ good at this?” I groan out after watching Hayes effortlessly shoot another puck into my goal.
He shrugs, giving me a smirk. “Maybe you’re just no good.”
I feign that I’m hurt, gasping and angrily hitting the puck back in his direction. We were playing air hockey at a neat little arcade where Hayes had decided to take me out on our second date. Other than the fact that he’s beaten me on nearly every game, I’ve been having a really good time with him.
Sure, Hayes might be a little corny at times—what with the flowers and the text message on our last date—but I think he’s very sweet. He’s kind, he makes me laugh, he’s incredibly hot, he goes out of his way to make me feel special, and I genuinely like hanging out with him.
“How about next goal wins it all?” I suggest, feeling as though I have the winning strategy.
Or really, I’m just feeling lucky.
He bites down on his lip, thinking it over for a moment. In reality, he’s probably plotting how he’s going to score on me, but I sense the cards are in my favour.
“Deal.”
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