Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 1
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 1 - 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 They Race
ARIELLE
“His ego’s too big for his own good.” I tell her, setting my jacket on my shoulders.
Summer runs a tattooed hand through her short dark hair, staring at me with piercing light green eyes. “Yeah, but he’s hot.” Summer was wearing black jeans and a colourful button–up over a printed crop top. She was in shape, always was, and that showed whenever she decided to show off the muscles apparent in her abdomen, like she’s done today.
I give her a strange look, “Uh—”
She shrugs, “Just because I prefer pussy doesn’t mean I don’t know a hot guy when I see one.”
“What’d I hear about pussy?” Chase questions with a raised eyebrow as he approaches Summer and me. Chase was fit as well, muscles bulging from his tank top with ripped jeans on his legs and a backwards ball cap on his head which hid his dark brown hair. His brown eyes find mine and I roll mine at his response.
“Nothing. Now are either of you coming to watch me kick his ass?”
“How are you so sure you’ll beat him?” Chase asks, leaning up against the hood of my car. I smack him, because he knows better than to touch her, especially to leave his fucking handprints all over the hood when she’s just been waxed.
I drove a 1967 blue Pontiac Firebird and it was my fucking baby.
Let me tell you, it’s an addiction owning a car. Nearly every penny won is spent on upgrades or modifications for my car. I can remember one month when I won two hundred dollars in a race and instead of paying my rent—which was severely late—I bought a new cylinder head and some spark plugs.
Was worth it though because now my baby runs smoother than ever.
“I kicked your ass, didn’t I?” I muse, smirking at him. It was comical because Chase was the furthest thing from a racer. Yeah, he was built and probably looked like he raced on the streets, but in reality, he knew less about cars than I did.
Summer jingles her keys, laughing as she approaches her own vehicle. She races like myself—in fact, I met her one night during a race where I won, and she complimented me and subsequently hit on me—but she didn’t hit the streets as often as myself. She drove a lime green Nissan 370Z coupe. You couldn’t miss it. The thing was neon, but it looked really cool whenever she sped—like a giant streak of light ... or a fucking highlighter.
“You got lucky,” Chase teases, arching an eyebrow while a smirk dances across his lips.
“Chase, shut the fuck up. Ari can beat you right now. Square up!”
Chase looks at her, pursing his lips together in an attempt to cease the laughter that’s about to erupt from within him, retorting, “She can beat you, too.”
“Fuck off,” she says, stepping over to him just to slap him hard across the chest. The sound resonates against his breastbone as he grunts out in pain.
I ignore the two of them, opening my driver’s side door and moving to get inside. Just as Chase is about to tease Summer about something else, I interrupt their little spat, asking again, “Would anyone like to join?”
“Yeah, I’ll come with,” Chase speaks up. “If this Nate guy tries fucking with you, I’ll grab you and kiss the shit out of you.” He walks around my car and grabs hold of the door handle, laughing at me teasingly.
“On second thought, just stay here.” I wreck my face up, showing how disgusted I am with the idea. “Stay here and shave your fucking face.”
“No,” he pouts, running a hand along his newly formed stubble.
I wasn’t used to it. In all of the years I’ve known Chase, he’s always had a baby face, it’s only in the last year or so that he’s bulked up and started actually looking like an adult. I can remember when he was fourteen and proud to be growing armpit hair and now, he’s got beard hair that makes him look at least twenty–five.
“Girls dig the stubble, especially between their thighs.”
“Chase!” I scowl, and Summer hits him again. I roll my eyes, turning to Summer, “You coming?”
Nah, I’ll pass this time. Meet up later?”
“Yeah,” I reply and move to get inside the car. Chase’s already sitting inside, fiddling with his cellphone as he waits.
My name is called just as I close my door and so I roll the window down, looking at Summer expectantly. “Kick his ass,” she encourages, giving me a nod and turning to get in her own car.
“Holy fuck!” Chase screams out just as I tear around a corner literally sideways. If I asked him why he’s yelling in my car he’d probably say he was having fun, but I know that sound in his voice and he’s most likely scared shitless in the passenger’s seat.
I’m not even sure why he came with me in the car when he could’ve stayed back at the finish line and hit on women, but then again, he didn’t have much choice because I dragged him to the vehicle after glaring at Nate and his egotistical smirk before the race.
I didn’t even have to talk to Nate to get all riled up. Just seeing him had my skin flushing, my heart racing, my pupils dilating, and my hands fidgety. I wasn’t oblivious to the fact that those were all symptoms of a crush—like I was in fucking high school again.
I’d been in the lead the entire beginning of the race but just as we were now nearing the finish line, I can tell that Nate ‘s about to pass me. It does nothing but infuriate me as he slowly pulls past me on the straightaway when I’ve clearly been winning the last ninety percent of this damn race.
I even take the time to glance over at him—despite the fact that the last time I did so, I ended up scratching the side of my car and thereby ended up in this entire situation—and he doesn’t even look at me, still inching further and further forward until his bumper is closer to the end than mine. It occurs to me that I’m giving all I’ve got and he’s going to win. I can tell that even though we can’t see the line yet.
“What the hell are you doing? You’re going to give up that easily?” Chase scolds from beside me. Mentally I’m smack–talking him about his cries of terror from earlier, but instead I just scowl at him, giving him a quick glare before my eyes are back on the road.
“I’m giving her all she’s got, Chase.”
“In all of the years I’ve known you, you don’t lose.”
Even though he’s said something so simple, it stirs something within me. He’s right. In all of the years that I’ve been racing on the streets, I haven’t lost. I’m literally unbeaten, but so is Nate. We were both known as having records clear of a loss.
It was just a question of who was going to lose that title today. Who wanted it more?
Me.
I grip the wheel tighter in my hands, whispering a prayer quietly to the car as if I was connected to it. As if I was a fucking runner telling my body to work harder in order to reach an attainable goal. Nate ‘s record means nothing, especially now that I’m about to erase it as if it never existed.
Instinctively, I push my foot down harder against the pedal and focus on the road. I ignore the beating of my heart at Nate ‘s proximity. I ignore Chase’s hard stare and muffled sounds. I ignore everything else in the world despite the asphalt in front of me.
After a few seconds I start to notice the difference in car lengths and Chase’s voice becomes apparent in my ear, “There she is! Kick his fucking ass!” His palm slaps against the dash and it takes everything in me to ignore it.
Now that I’m right back at Nate ‘s side I can feel his gaze burning a hole into my side. I ignore it, too, taking a moment to control my breathing. It’s hard, however, when his eyes are so intense and I’m not even returning his stare.
Eventually, I end up slightly pulling in front of him once the finish line is in view.
We whip past building after building, the streetlights reminding us of the fact that it’s much too late in the evening to be bringing about this sort of attention to ourselves. Wasn’t like anyone here cared about that sort of thing, though.
A crowd of people at the invisible line shout and scream as we approach, and my heart instantly thrums faster, bruising at my chest. I tear my focus away from the road in front of me for only a moment, turning to realize that I’ve managed to pull ahead of Nate nearly half a car length and a smile pulls across my face.
“Holy shit!” Chase yells out and I start celebrating early—but not too early—as we roll past the finish line, and I slam on the brakes to halt the car.
I turn to Chase, giant smile on my face, as I scream out in joy. “I can’t believe that just happened!”
Chase leans across the centre console to give me a big hug and then the two of us scramble out the vehicle, myself desperate to rub this in Nate ‘s smug fucking face. As I near Nate ‘s car, I notice he hasn’t stepped out of it but just as I run a hand along the hood, the door opens, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight of him.
Never knew a man could look so good just getting out of a car, but alright.
The smug grin doesn’t leave my face, and apparently it hasn’t left his either because when he closes his door and steps towards me it’s there more than ever. “That was interesting,” he starts, not at all reacting the way I’d assumed he would.
“Pay up, Carter.”
“Whoa,” he drawls huskily. “Can’t I at least buy you a drink first? I mean, you did just win, it’s only courteous.”