Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 64
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 64 - 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’re Caught
A R I E L L E
Two and a half weeks later
“Shh,” I shush, fighting off the urge to giggle as James wraps his arms tighter around my waist, pressing his pelvis into my ass. “If he’s home, he’s gonna’ hear you and then we’ll be in big shit.”
He brushes his lips over the curve of my neck and I bite my lip to keep the moan at bay.
Yeah, so ever since that night on vacation, this has become a regular thing. James and I are kind of a thing, but we haven’t exactly spoken about any sort of label so I’m not entirely sure what that thing would be.
However, we’ve been fucking pretty habitually and last night James accidentally ended up spending the night when he wasn’t supposed to. We’ve been trying to keep this shit on the down low because not only is there nothing meaningful to tell people about—we’re only fucking, cuddling and hanging out—but we don’t want to upset anybody.
I mean, I don’t give a single fuck what Bratalie thinks—in fact, I think I’d be a bit happy if word got around that James is having, and I quote, “the best sex of his life,” but I also don’t care enough about her to waste even a second thinking about her or what she might think. She just doesn’t exist in my world.
But also, we don’t want to upset Zara. I worry that if Zara found out about James and I, that she’d think we cheated. Especially if she found out that we fucked on vacation, which was only a short time after James had broken things off with Bratalie. I don’t want to deal with her incorrectly assuming that even when James was with his ex, he had feelings for me and that we crossed some sort of line.
Neither of us acted on any sort of attraction to one another until after he was single.
“Is it bad that a part of me doesn’t care anymore?” James teases, a hand trailing beneath his shirt that hangs loosely on my body. I shift on the mattress, closer to him as he runs a mischievous hand on the underside of my breast. He nuzzles his head further into the crook of my neck, drawing his tongue over the shell of my ear, “Principessa,” he says lowly and it immediately makes me melt, “I don’t like hiding you away.”
We’d been like this all day today—in between fucking, there’s been cuddles, snacks, and movies.
He was supposed to leave when we woke up but you know, one thing led to another and here we are.
“Yeah, but you can’t deny that this whole fucking in secret thing isn’t super hot,” I comment, and he retracts himself from my body, sitting up to grab the small tub of ice cream off my side table. I do the same as him, crossing my legs to position myself so I’m able to watch the television as it plays some late night programming.
“It’s very hot,” he replies. “But you mean more to me than just a fuck.”
I stab my spoon into my own ice cream tub, bringing some of the chocolate to my mouth. James’ gaze never leaves my lips, clearly enamoured by the sight. “Do I, now?”
He allows his strawberry flavoured treat to melt in his mouth before he speaks. “Absolutely.” He puts his container back on the side table and then grabs mine from my hands to put it beside his, while I pout. He then leans forward, kissing it right off me.
His tongue licks into my mouth, bringing the taste of his strawberry ice cream to the remnants of chocolate still left on my own tongue. I sigh into his touch, relaxing until he has my back flat to the mattress and his lips are following my collarbone as it peeks out from the massive collar of his shirt.
“I wanna take you out to do all the corny shit—bowling, movies, go-karting, mini golf. Let’s do it all, Principessa.”
He pulls away for a moment and I whine, leaning on my elbows to watch him take a bit of each ice cream between his lips. He then hovers himself over me and urges his shirt higher on my body. I know it’s coming before it does, but a gasp still leaves my lungs when he encloses his mouth around my exposed nipple.
“Fuck, that’s cold,” I comment, arching off the bed towards his touch. My mind flashes to that time in Anguilla when he did the same with an ice cube, only this time, I’m completely bare and the cold is almost painful.
“I’ll warm you up, mi reina,” he assures me, trailing the cold substance to my other nipple.
Just as a rather loud moan is leaving my lips, his mouth reunites with mine and I’m welcomed once again with the taste of chocolate and strawberry that’s swirled and mixed deliciously on his tongue. I thread my fingers through his hair, back arching off the bed towards him.
I trial my hands downwards, pressing my palms flat to his chest. With a soft push, I’ve managed to roll him until he’s on his back and I’m straddling his waist. His bare, tattooed skin is glorious beneath me and I admire him as he sets his hands on my thighs.
I grab his wrists and in a quick motion, I’ve got them pinned beneath my hands with his arms raised above his head. I buck my hips into him at the same time I reunite my mouth with his. He audibly groans, his voice a husk as he informs me, “You don’t play fair.”
“Nope,” I agree, moving to suck a hickey into his shoulder. I want to give him a hickey somewhere more visible, like his neck, but I’m aware of the fact that he won’t be able to hide it, so I take the safe route.
When I’m done, I lean back to admire my work. He glances down as best as he can, hands finding my thighs once again. His fingertips ghost over my rose tattoo, tracing the lines inked into my skin. “Is it too personal if I ask what it is about roses you love so much that you immortalized that love on you?”
I shake my head. “My dad used to give me a single rose every Valentine’s Day. It’s one of the only memories I have left of him.” Saying the words aloud seems to lift some sort of invisible weight off my chest. He’s only the second person to know that—Chase being the first.
“I’m sorry.” He continues stroking my skin, eyes finding mine with sincerity pooling in them. I recall telling him all about my father, Vivien and Ezra that night when he’d first found out Bratalie was cheating. It was the time he ended up spending the night on the couch because he drank too much.
Oh, how far we’ve come.
“My mother and step-father are what you’d call pinche cabrons,” I roll the r hard as I speak the words, lightly dragging my fingernails down his chest.
“Oof,” he groans, “It’s hot hearing you speak Spanish.”
Now he knows how I feel.
“Well, that’s about the extent of my Spanish vocabulary.”
His one hand comes to rest atop mine on his chest and I glance down at it, memorizing the two arrows drawn onto the middle finger on his right hand. “Is it too personal if I ask what this means to you?”
“Of all my tattoos, that’s the one you want the story behind?”
I raise an eyebrow, glancing down at the other ones—the cobweb, the crown, the trees, geometric shapes, the quote, the sugar skull on his calf—and I don’t know why, but I don’t have as much interest in the meaning behind those as I do with the two tiny lines on his finger. I feel like majority are probably purely aesthetic and the sugar skull is almost certainly a nod to his Mexican heritage.
I nod my head, choosing to stay silent and not explain exactly why because I can’t really explain it to myself.
“Matteo and I got them together.”
“Your brother?” I think back to when he told me he had a sibling—he’s younger, in college, going to be an architect, is athletic, geeky, and he seems to really adore his baby brother.
James nods his head, and I feel his eyes on me as he observes me studying his tattoo. “It represents our bond. We’re more than just brothers.”
“I’d like to meet him someday,” I confess, before I’m able to think about the implication of the statement.
I shouldn’t be hoping for the future. Planning for it. Especially not when I’ve just started a relationship with the dude underneath me.
Whatever that relationship is, exactly.
“I think you’d like him.”
Suddenly James holds his hand up in between us, in a fist form. “A,” he tells me and I cock my head in confusion.
He then switches up the positioning of his fingers so that the index and middle fingers are crossed and his thumb is touching his latter two digits. “R.”
He forms a fist again, however he extends his pinky and places his thumb in front of the folded fingers. “I.”
He folds his pinky, lowering his thumb beneath the fingers that form a fist. “E.”
Then his hand forms an obvious L shape. “L.”
Which he does a second time. “L.”
He finishes off my name by making an earlier sign that I recognize. “E.”
I watch in fascination as he repeats the actions for me quicker than I can process them.
“So, not only do you speak English and Spanish, but you know sign language as well?”
He forms a tight fist once again and then moves it up and down, as if it’s nodding yes. “For Matteo,” he explains. “He’s hard of hearing, so it can be very difficult for him to read lips in certain circumstances. It’s better to just sign so he can understand each piece of conversation.”
“Teach me your name.”
James extends a pinky, using it to draw a J in the air and I mimic it. “J.”
“Do you remember what A is?”
I clench my fingers together and hold it up. When he does the same, he praises me with, “Good. A.”
Next, he sticks three fingers downwards, forming a visual and obvious shape. I pick it up quickly, following his actions. “M.”
I beat him to the punch with the next one, holding up a fist with the thumb below it and he smiles softly. “E.”
As he forms the sign for S, I notice that it’s very similar to both A and E, which makes it confusing for someone like myself who doesn’t know the language. However, I imitate what he’s done—making a fist with my thumb in front of my folded fingers. “S.”
James holds out his left hand, using his right to press his fingers against his lips and then he drops it into the palm of his left. When he lowers his hands back to my thighs, I lean forward so that I’m pressed to his chest but still able to look at his face.
“What did that mean?”
“Good.” He tucks some hair behind my ear, adding, “You’re a quick learner.”
“You’ll have to teach me more before I meet him.”
There I fucking go again.
He grips my hips, quickly flipping us so my back is the one pressed to the bed. “Should I try to decipher why you want to impress my baby brother?” He’s leaning over me on his toned arms, observing my reaction to his question. He presses his lips to mine for a mere second and then awaits my answer.
I shrug. “Isn’t it only polite to try my best to make sure that he’s able to understand me?”
I can see something in his face shift—he softens so visibly that I momentarily worry he might start crying. It causes me to reach out and touch his face in an effort to comfort him from whatever just happened.
“I dated Nat for two years—two fuckin’ years—and she never even cared to learn how to sign a single word. I’ve known you for a couple months and you’re already so eager to learn. You’re incredible, Arielle.”
I don’t really know what to say, stunned to silence. Here, I thought I was doing something that would be considered a small gesture of understanding that I never realized would mean so much to James. It doesn’t matter what language his family spoke because even if they merely spoke Spanish, I’d still do my best to learn—at least the basics at first—so I could converse with them. How could Natalie have never learned any sign language?
It’s literally the bare minimum.
Instead of answering him, I grab the back of his neck to bring his mouth to mine.
When we pull apart, he moves to seat himself on the edge of the bed. I stand from the mattress, grabbing the small tubs of ice cream, placing the lids upon them and then stuffing both in the freezer of the mini fridge located in the corner of my bedroom before they completely melt.
Sauntering back over to the bed, I position myself between James’ knees where he sits. My fingers find his hair and I run them through his locks while his trace up the backs of my thighs. “So listen, I wanted to ask you something.”
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