Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 32
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 32 - 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 Is Tested
NATE
It’s been about a week or so since I last saw Arielle and since we received that mysterious letter on my front porch. Frankly, it terrified myself and Arielle seemed more worried than scared.
But it had become somewhat of a spat between the two of us because we had different opinions about the entire thing. I was curious why someone would send us that shit, who was doing us favours we didn’t ask for, and who could be watching us that we aren’t aware of.
I have to think that Quick Draw could likely be involved in this because both Arielle and myself know that him and Lieutenant Dickwad have been observing us. Who’s to say it isn’t them trying to throw us off? It’s pretty fucking easy when they know where we live and who’s giving us trouble—them.
Arielle, on the other hand, seemed to think it was some sort of prank. She too, thought it was Hayes trying to get some sort of revenge on us. Ever since she shot him down, she has it in her brain that he’s just trying to get back at her. But she kept defending him and saying despite some issues he had, he was too nice of a person to do something like that.
However, when I started to think more about it, I honestly didn’t think it was Quick Draw. I’m not sure why, but he doesn’t really strike me as the type.
Sure, he’s sneaky, two-faced, and has a tendency for violent behaviour, but I don’t think he would write some letter and toss it on my door step.
Anyway, Arielle and I have kind of fought about it. That was, until I received a text message on my cell phone that had an address, told me it was time to meet the “boss” and demanded I show up by myself.
So now I sit, sack over my head, in some unknown location, alone, and petrified.
I don’t even know how all of this happened, but now I’m at some boss’ office or some fucking shit and everyone recognizes me, despite my face being covered and my not knowing anyone.
Not to mention, the location I was texted, isn’t the place where I am now. In fact, when I arrived, a man with light brown hair just shy of six feet tall got out of his vehicle when he saw me and told me to do the same. He forced me to bend over the hood of my car, handcuffed me, patted me down for weapons, and then put this fucking potato sack over my head.
We went for a ride, and that brings us to the present.
Where I can’t see fuck all and a man’s just led me to sit in a seat and told me, “The boss will be with you soon, Nate.”
So, like five minutes or my kind of soon where who the fuck truly knows when?
I sit nervously for maybe two or three minutes, anxiously rubbing at my handcuffs, uncomfortable with how tight they feel. But when I hear the door open and footsteps behind me, I stop fidgeting and try to glance at who is approaching me.
“Take it off his head,” the man’s voice says and suddenly the darkness disappears and my eyes go temporarily blind from the rush of light.
The first thing I spot is the man from earlier—the one I met who handcuffed me, patted me down, and brought me here. His blue eyes scan me up and down before he glances over his shoulder at his boss.
“Nate, “ the boss says, stepping into my view. He’s older, grey hair atop his head and wrinkles around his eyes. He’s tall—like really fucking tall—and the way his piercing sky-coloured eyes bore into my soul immediately makes me think two things.
First, is that these two look like father and son. They’re both tall, have the same shade of eyes, and clearly do some fucked up business together.
Second, this boss stares at me as if he has no soul. His gaze is more blinding than the moment the sack was removed from my head. It speaks so much, yet he says so little. It makes my fucking skin crawl.
“I’d like to remove your handcuffs. Can I trust that you won’t do something idiotic?”
My heart pounds away in my chest, ears ringing at the feeling of danger. “Speak,” he snaps, lighting up a cigar.
“Y-Yes,” I find myself stuttering and it irritates me to no end. It’s a sign of my voice and nerves betraying me in a moment when I don’t want to appear weak and pathetic.
“Langley, take them off.”
The younger man—who I now know as Langley—steps towards me, pulling a key out of his back pocket to undo the cuffs. When my hands are free, I carefully set them in my lap, sure to not make any fast movements that might get me into shit.
I adjust myself in my seat, feeling my phone still resting in my pocket. It sits there uncomfortably, almost like a warning siren going off in my brain telling me to get help.
As the older man begins talking, I fumble it out of my pocket discreetly. “You’re probably quite confused. Aren’t you, Nate?”
I don’t answer, biting down on my tongue to keep from saying something I’d regret. “If there’s one thing you’ll learn about me quickly,” he says, puffing on his cigar, “is that you will speak to me when spoken to. If you don’t like to talk, surely I can cut out your tongue and make it easier for you?”
He adjusts his suit jacket with a smirk, sitting down at his massive desk, the epitome of authority and threatening presence. That Langley dude crosses the room to stand at a distance where he can run to me if something goes wrong. He folds his hands together and observes everything going down.
“Do you understand?” The boss asks.
“Yes,” I say lowly, giving him a glare.
He gives me a wicked smile, satisfied with my compliance. “Lieutenant Sanders is a dick, huh?” He doesn’t give me an opportunity to answer, adding, “Did you know he had that little fucker—ah, shit. What was his name again?”
“Hayes,” Langley says from where he stands.
“Right. Nate, did you know he had Hayes spying on Arielle and you while you were in the hot tub?”
I stop wriggling my phone, giving him a confused look. “What?”
“Fucker was sitting up high with binoculars and watching as you stuffed your tongue in her mouth. I mean, there’s gotta’ be some fuckin’ law broken there, right?”
I fucking knew it. I knew he was up to something. I didn’t know what it was, but I just knew it in the marrow of my bones that he had gone past the point of being obsessed with Arielle.
Then again, I have no clue who the man is sitting across from me and he could be spouting bullshit to get me on his side. “How do you know this?”
“Are you questioning my candour, Nate? ‘Cause I thought we were in a good place, you and I.”
“I don’t even fuckin’ know who you are.”
“Mea culpa, right? We haven’t exactly been properly introduced.” I expect him to finally tell me his name, but he doesn’t. He bends over to reach deep into one of his drawers as I effectively get my phone out and begin typing to Arielle.
Nate: get help if you don’t hear from me
When I feel like he can spot my phone in my hand, I tuck it underneath my leg, shifting nervously in the chair across from him.
“Your whole plan of fucking his daughter to gain inside info? That was a fuckin’ good plan. Until it went south.”
I stay quiet.
“I gave you a compliment, Nate.”
“Thank you,” I snap, clenching my jaw.
His lips curl again and I fight the urge to jump across the desk and deck him. When he stands again, he moves to a small table to pour himself a drink. He grabs a glass and fills it with whiskey as he talks to me. “It’s hard to figure out who you can trust nowadays, isn’t it?”
As if I can fucking trust you?
“You thought you could trust Sara, but it turns out she was playing you the entire time. What’d she say to you when she came to your house after you two had broken it off?”
How the hell does he know everything?
“She say she miss you? Wanted to work things out? Betray her father?” He chuckles lowly, turning around while swirling the liquor in his glass and giving me a knowing smile. “What’d you do to piss her off?”
“As if you don’t know?” I question, realizing that he’s known and been correct about everything so far, so why would he ask a question he surely knows the answer to?
To fucking toy with his prey.
He snickers, downing his drink. He slams the empty cup down on the desk in front of me with such force that for a moment, I worry it’ll break in his hand. “Don’t smart mouth me, Nate.” His eyes set on me, filled with anger and condescension.
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