Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 57
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 57 - 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 She Finally Lets Loose
NATE
I’ll admit, when the guard came to my cell earlier and informed me that I had a visitor, my heart immediately jumped into my throat. I’ve been in here for several weeks and I’ve lost any sort of sanity that I once held before being locked up. I know that I’ve effectively cut Arielle out of my life but anytime I have an email, piece of mail or a visitor, I can’t help the simultaneous feelings of panic and worry that consume me.
I don’t know what I’d do if she suddenly showed up or I heard from her. I figure it’d probably make me spiral even further than I’ve already spun but I can’t say for certain. I honestly don’t know if I could hit further than the rock bottom I’ve already hit.
As the guard leads me towards the common area to meet my visitor, I’m reminded of Arielle’s last visit.
I ball my fists up at my sides, angry at the entire fucking world. I’m pissed at QuickDraw for being a jealous, obsessive dick that abused the system, at Ezra and Langley for their involvement in Arielle’s and my first break up, at my stupid fucking cell mate that hasn’t stopped shouting racial slurs at me since I’ve been in his presence, and at the tasteless food, the uncomfortably stiff beds—I’m mad that the fucking sky is blue and my life is utter hell.
A shot of pain fires through my jaw, reminding me to stop clenching my teeth. It’s become an unintentional thing, something I’ve found myself doing as the tension and anger further blackens my soul.
Eventually, the guard has the door opened and urges me inside to meet with whomever has chosen to visit me. I spot the person right away from where he sits on the far side of the room. Colt perks up when he sees me, small smile plastered on his face. I don’t return the gesture as I seat myself across from him and await what he has to say.
“Hey, man, how you doing?”
“How the fuck do you think I’m doing?” I snap, fidgeting with the sleeve on my jumpsuit, desperate for a cigarette.
He sighs, glancing around at the other people around us. “How are you doing since the whole Ari thing?” He speaks the words carefully, aware of the touchy subject.
The last time Colt and I spoke was over the phone when he made me feel like a piece of complete and total shit for breaking things off with Arielle. He gave me an earful about how he knows how much I love her, how he didn’t think what I did was right, how I shouldn’t let QuickDraw have what he wants—basically he was up my ass about everything with zero understanding about what I’m going through.
“Mate, don’t—” I warn, with a raised hand.
“It’s been weeks now since you last heard from her ... You don’t feel any guilt whatsoever?”
I glare at him, wishing he’d take the hint and shut the fuck up. “Nate, you know it was for the best. See it from my side for once, for fuck’s sake.” I exhale deeply, running my hands over my face. “I can’t expect her to wait for seven fuckin’ years. She deserves to be happy, to live however the fuck she wants to. I’ve brought her nothing but trouble, it’s better this way.”
“For who exactly?” His eyebrow is raised when I meet his expression. “You’re fuckin’ miserable and I’m sure she’s just the same.”
“Nate—” My tone is a word of caution, letting him know that he’s erring on the edge of dangerous territory. “I don’t want to fuckin’ talk about this. We’re better off not being in one another’s lives. Period.”
He shakes his head, hopefully aware that he needs to drop this subject before I reach over the table and wring his fucking neck. “You’re impossible, dude.” He tells me, “Turned into some hard ass prick.”
“I’ve always been a self-proclaimed asshole.”
“Fuck outta’ here with that shit.” He waves a hand, obviously annoyed with my behaviour. “You can’t bullshit me, Nate. This attitude you’ve got, it only started when you were arrested.”
I clench my teeth again, carefully hiding my pained expression as my jaw throbs. I don’t speak on what he’s said—he’s right, but I don’t fucking care.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on in here and how it’s messing with your head, but it’s no reason to treat the people around you like shit. As much as you don’t want to hear it, it’s not my fault you’re in here so don’t direct your anger at me. It’s not your fault either and you know that I’m still helping in whatever way I can to get you out. We will get you out of here.”
I scoff. “I’m not gonna’ get out. I don’t know how many times I gotta’ tell you that before it registers.”
Colt faux laughs, rolling his eyes. “Y’know what? If you wanna’ be an asshole, then don’t expect me to come visit anymore. I’ll write letters instead and you can sit in here, staring at a wall being the miserable son of a bitch you’ve become.” He pauses, frustratedly shaking his head as he glances around. He then pushes his index table to the top of the table pointedly, as he informs me, “No matter how hard you try to push me out of your life, it’s not gonna’ work. I’ve known you for ages and I’ll be here in your darkest moments like a brother would.”
“Don’t give me the brother spiel. If you don’t wanna’ be here, nobody’s asking you to drive out to the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, degrade yourself through fuckin’ security to sit here and fuckin’ lecture me about all the shit I’ve done wrong in my life. About how mean I’m being. If you don’t like it, fuckin’ stay home.” I give him a stone cold stare, fed up with this conversation.
Colt stands from the table suddenly, turning to leave. However, he pauses and while running a hand over his face, sighs. “I’ll see you next week, dude.” He doesn’t even give me a chance to respond as he walks away, mumbling under his breath, “Maybe you’ll be in a better fuckin’ mood.”
A R I E L L E
“If you send any letters, email or any other mail or if you try to call, all will go unanswered. I’m sorry but we both know it’s for the best.”
The words have been replaying in my mind like a broken fucking record and to say I’ve experienced a flurry of emotions since receiving that damned fucking letter roughly ten days ago is the understatement of the year.
When I first opened the letter—which wasn’t even personally delivered to me, it was sent to me stamped and in the mail by someone and I’m assuming that someone is Ben—I was heartbroken. I had fully expected him to break things off with me, but I don’t know if I was in denial or if I figured I could find a way out of it, but it just broke my damn heart. It felt unexpected and even worse, it felt cold. Yeah, I guess a handwritten letter is better than passing some message through the phone or through your lawyer but I guess I figured he would’ve at least given me the courtesy of doing it to my face.
I mean, I know why he didn’t do it face to face—he’s a fucking coward and an asshole—but that’s a whole other thing.
I must’ve read through his words two or three dozen times. Chase kept scolding me because I could recite the thing word for word and he knew I was spiralling because of it. However, the pain of losing him again was searing. It was hot, it was deep, it was brutal and I really didn’t know how to survive without him.
I had to remind myself that for the next seven years I’d be living without him anyways—not including the small doses of him I’d get from visits to the prison, conjugal and otherwise—but it wasn’t the same. I’ve lost him completely. He wants nothing to do with me and it’s the worst pill to fucking swallow.
So, when I got over my phase of crying, I got to a point of determination. I’d spent three days doing literally nothing but crying and sleeping and a flip switched in me where I felt like I needed to prove him wrong. I needed to get off my ass and do something to prove to him that I still love him and I’m not going anywhere.
The first road led to the prison where I quickly found out that Nate had me removed from the visitors list. He knew I’d try to storm in and give him an earful and now that I think about it, he was one step ahead. He was probably smart to do it because I would’ve reamed his ass. When I realized that I was physically blocked from seeing him, I spiralled again.
The next day and a half was spent crying.
Again.
The second step led to me knocking on Ben’s door. He was terrified when he saw me and he wasn’t happy when I stomped into his foyer and swore more than I ever had in my life in front of his very religious wife. Safe to say, I don’t think he’ll be doing me any favours anytime soon and his wife definitely won’t be inviting me over for dinner.
I tried sending some emails and they obviously went unanswered. I tried sending a letter back—the first was sad, the second one was pissed off—and both were returned to me, unopened. I tried phoning to see if I could somehow get a hold of him but that clearly went no where. I’ve sent probably fifty or more text messages to Ben and various phone calls begging him to help Nate change his mind but it’s all for naught.
The worst part of it is that I know he warned me and I’m just torturing myself at this point. The whole reason he’s cut me off is because he doesn’t want to drag out any pain that I’m feeling and I’m aware of that but I can’t help it.
After all my failed attempts at proving him wrong, I’ve come to the realization that I can empathize with his thought process on all of this. I understand where he’s coming from. I mean, I hate that he’s doing this to us but I do get why he’s chosen to do it.
He said it all in his letter—it’s not fair of me to wait, it’s not right of me to do so, I’m hard to pin down, blah blah. It all makes sense and I’m acutely aware of that. When I went to prison, I had the same thoughts myself. I had been seeing someone at the time and I had broken up with her. I didn’t think our relationship would last and she wasn’t the type to wait around for anybody so I broke it off.
Sure enough, she got over it and moved on.
It’s super shitty to be on the receiving end of this now. I guess I’m just upset that he didn’t give me any choice. He never talked it through with me. He made the decision to end us, even though things between us have gotten more serious. I love him and of course I’d wait seven years to be able to be with him normally. It just kind of feels like he didn’t take my thoughts and feelings into consideration and decided what he figured I thought was for the best.
I still love him and some cement walls and metal bars aren’t going to change that.
I do understand where he’s coming from—since I did the exact same thing to my girlfriend all that time ago—but it feels so cold from someone who claimed to love you when he went in.
I say that to myself as if I have forgotten that he loves me and I haven’t. It just makes it hurt that much more.
I went through a period where I was very angry at him. He made such a life changing decision for me and it isn’t the choice that I would’ve made. I spent a day or two cursing him and it got to the point where I’ve removed the jewelry he gave me. The thundercloud ring and the necklace adorning his name have been put away safely in a box in my bedroom and it crushed me to even do something as seemingly small as that.
I had to do it. Every time I saw the ring or when I’d catch the sight of the necklace it was like playing Russian roulette with my emotions. Would I literally crumble to the floor in tears? Would I smash another bathroom mirror and have Chase holding me back from breaking everything in sight to match what I felt inside? Would I nearly give myself alcohol poisoning for a second time? There really wasn’t any consistency in what I was feeling and for my own sanity I needed to purge myself of reminders of him.
At least, until I got myself under control.
I’ve gotten to the point where I’m trying to figure out what life is now that he’s inside and I’m without him out here. I think deep within my mind that I still feel as if we’re together and I don’t know if that’ll change. However, it’s only been about three weeks since all of this shit went down.
Only?
Jesus Christ, I didn’t even realize that it’s been three weeks since we went to see Nate’s father in the hospital and both of our lives changed forever.
It’s hard to not imagine what he’s going through in there. I can empathize with the feelings of fear, humiliation, loneliness, uncertainty, boredom, anger—the list is never ending, really. I’ve spent a lot of time wondering if he’s made any friends, how his cell mate is, whether he’s started working inside and all sorts of things. The worst is my obsessive and intrusive thoughts about how he’s potentially handling things mentally.
I’m terrified that he’s becoming someone I won’t recognize. Someone angered and hardened by prison. Someone who turns towards a life darker and more dangerous than the one he led before going inside. I know firsthand what prison can do to one’s mental health and that’s the last thing I’d ever want for him.
Even if the story of us is done, I still love him and obviously wish nothing but good for him.
Even if he broke things off like an asshole.
“Are you even listening to me?” Chase questions and I come back to reality to find that Zara has twisted around in the car and is staring at me.
“You okay, babe?” She questions me, reaching a hand back to gently hold my knee.
“See, this is why I won’t let you drive right now,” Chase reminds me for the thousandth time. “You zone right the fuck out and I’m terrified you’ll get in a damn car accident and kill not only yourself but some poor family.”
“I’m fine, Chase,” I snap, not convincingly.
Everybody that knows me knows I’m far from fine.
Zara’s perfectly manicured eyebrows turn down sadly at my expression and she gives me a weak smile. I shake my head at her to dismiss going too deep for fear I’ll cry and I’m thankful when she turns around and doesn’t press.
“What were you saying?” I ask Chase, sure that it’s nothing too important.
“Zara and I were saying you look good. Zara did a good job with your makeup.”
I sit further up, glancing at myself in the rear-view mirror. “She did,” I comment, brushing hair off my face. She figured a full face of makeup would help me to feel better. I mean, cosmetics have never fully been my thing—I can do up my own face but not to the extent and precision Zara did—however, it was still a nice thing for her to do.
I think it was more fun for her, except that’s beside the point.
She gave me a full cat eye, some red lipstick and even curled my hair perfectly. I feel a bit too on fleek for my usual look, but whatever. She also insisted on choosing my outfit for this party and now I’m wearing a short and tight, black leather skirt and a red camisole-type silk top.
At least she let me wear a leather jacket over it and a pair of low-heeled ankle boots. She insisted I wear high heeled stilettos, basically, but I think she forgets this is a simple house party and even what I’m wearing now is probably wildly overdressed. Nevertheless, I’m only dressed the way I am because of Zara’s insistence that it’ll help me to feel better after everything.
I’ll admit, it was a good distraction but I hope she didn’t dress me up like this with hopes I’ll find somebody single at the party and take them home with me. I’m nowhere near ready for something like that. Who knows if I’ll ever be? Like I said, in the confines of my brain, I know that I’m waiting for him to be released one day.
“Thanks again,” I speak quietly to Zara and she offers a warm smile.
“Don’t even mention it,” she tells me. “You look hot so I hope you’re feeling better. Even if it’s just a tiny bit.”
“I am,” I admit, holding up my fingers to signal how tiny it really helped.
“We’re here,” Chase announces as he pulls into the driveway of a decent sized house. It appears modern from the outside, with a small deck out front, large windows and navy blue siding.
“Wow,” I comment as I take in the size of the home. It looks quite a bit larger than my place with Chase, however, I’m not really sure what I expected. “Do James and—what’s her name again?”
“Natalie,” Zara answers.
“Do they own this house together?”
“No,” Zara replies while looking towards the front door.
“This is James’ place. For some reason he hasn’t asked her to move in with him yet. We can’t figure it out.”
“Yeah, haven’t they been dating for two years?” I remember him telling me that when we first met. It was directly after I’d stumbled into my house and ranted to Chase about how Ezra showed me all of the information that incriminated Hayes.
“Mhm,” Zara hums, “They’ve known each other since they were teenagers so I don’t know.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe he’s fuckin’ commitment-phobic.”
Part of me wants to suggest that it’s possible he doesn’t want to live with a woman so difficult to be around but I bite my tongue. Not only is Zara best friends with her but I’ve only met the girl once so I shouldn’t be so quick to judge her. Sure, she was rude as fuck to me at my place but she could’ve just been having a bad day. We’ll see how she treats me in her boyfriends’ house tonight.
I don’t know why, but the thought of that makes me somewhat nervous. She’s just one of those people that, even though you’ve only met them for a few minutes, you easily know that you don’t vibe with them. It’s a weird, instinctual feeling and I don’t remember the last time I felt like this.
“I don’t know,” Zara comments as we all get out of the vehicle. “Nat doesn’t always tell me everything.”
I sense that she’s holding something back and keeping it under wraps, however, I know better than to pry. I only just met Natalie and James and it’s not right of me to speculate or gossip about their relationship. I can’t really help it though, she just seems like a bitch.
I fight off the nervousness I’m feeling as I approach the front of the house and it becomes more and more real that I’ll have to deal with her. I’m not sure if it’s because of everything I’ve gone through with Nate lately or if it’s something else but I feel more emotional, or as Nate would say—soft.
It’s fucking annoying.
I push past my feelings and follow Chase and Zara up the front steps. Zara doesn’t even bother to knock, she just opens the door to chatter and music. Zara immediately runs across the house and into Natalie’s arms with a screech that is louder than all the noise around them.
The second I step inside, Chase closes the door behind me and offers to take my jacket. I shrug it off and observe where he hangs it. As I’m moving to take my shoes off, there’s a loud crash! And I turn to see that someone has dropped something where it has shattered into a million pieces.
I see James leaning over with a broom as he keeps people from stepping in the tiny shards of glass now littered everywhere. Glancing around, Zara and Natalie are in their own world and I don’t recognize any of the people already here. There’s only maybe ten other people here but none of them look familiar.
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