Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 70
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 70 - 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 Confronts Him
A R I E L L E
My mind is still reeling as James turns onto Nate’s street. I’m clutching the Manila folder that Hayes left for me—the one that holds all the evidence of his (partial) innocence and Ezra’s overwhelming guilt.
I say Hayes is mostly innocent because he’s still not completely clean of all responsibility for what’s happened. He still broke into Nate’s house with some fucked up intent to do something. He claims he doesn’t entirely know what he was doing—something about wanting to get a leg up on him—but I don’t know if I entirely believe that part.
How could you break into someone’s house without a plan? Especially as a cop, someone who’d deal regularly with break ins. It doesn’t exactly make sense. I just can’t understand why you’d break into someone’s house without a plan of what you’re looking for. Without an idea, you could be in the person’s house for hours and any logical person would want to be in and out as quick as possible.
However, I think I believe everything else he’s told me. I understand that he could have fabricated all the paperwork that I’m gripping like a lifeline, but something deep in my gut is assuring me that they’re truthful.
Who knows though, maybe he’ll prove otherwise. Only time will tell, I guess.
“It’s that house,” I point through the windshield towards Nate’s house as we approach and my nerves start.
I don’t know what to expect with this. Part of me believes that Nate will absolutely lose his shit over what I’m about to tell him. However, he’s been so different lately that there’s this other part of me that thinks otherwise.
We don’t talk anymore so I have no idea what he’s thinking, what he’s aware of and what he’s not, and worst of all, I have no knowledge of what his relationship with Ezra is like. They’ve been working together for weeks now, how do I know that Ezra hasn’t manipulated Nate into believing his bullshit? He can be a rather charismatic man and his modes of manipulation are like nothing I’ve ever seen. Even the smartest could fall for it.
I still can’t wrap my head around why Nate would ever want to work with Ezra. The only logical reason I can think of is the blackmailing that Hayes suggested, but if that’s the case, wouldn’t Nate see that when it comes to Ezra there’s no guarantee on his end? He might tell you that if you do something for him that your family will be safe, but he’ll easily go back on that promise if it suits him.
The man literally doesn’t do anything that doesn’t further his wants and needs. That’s what narcissists do.
James pulls into Nate ‘s driveway and puts the car in park. Silence settles between us when he removes the key, and it’s fucking deafening. I glance at the front of the house, trying not to overthink this. I need to explain all of this to him and make sure he understands what it all means.
James reaches over, resting his hand on my knee reassuringly. “Is there anything I can do to make this easier?” He asks, his voice soft and quiet.
I shake my head, pressing my lips together. “I don’t think anything could make this easier.”
He gives me a weak smile, “You’ve got all the papers?”
I nod, “Yeah, I just hope he’s willing to hear me out.”
“I’m sure he will be. I don’t know him at all, really, but I don’t think he’d ever be like that with you.”
I sigh, “You’re probably right.” I peer down at the folder again, trying to psych myself up.
“I’ll wait for you here,” James tells me, squeezing my knee as I undo my seatbelt.
“Thank you,” I tell him, “For coming, for understanding all of this, for being patient with me, there for me—for all of it.”
“Of course.” He leans across the space to press his lips to my temple, “Good luck.”
With that, I get out of the car and head up to Nate ‘s front door. I ring the bell once and wait anxiously for him to appear. My heart starts racing—like it always does when I’m near him—and my palms instantly start to sweat.
Eventually, I hear his heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and my heart leaps into my fucking throat. He swings the door open and my breath catches in my throat. He looks good, so fucking good.
“Hey,” I say once my eyes meet his.
“Arielle? Wh-What are you doing here?” His voice cracks and I immediately notice the evidence of sleep in his eyes and hair. He was clearly taking a nap—or knowing him, still sleeping—and I’ve awoken him.
“I have to show you something,” I inform him, lifting the folder between us.
He cocks his head in confusion and then glances over my shoulder for a mere second before he takes a step back and allows me inside. By the time I’m inside and have turned around to face him, he’s closed the door and is asking, “Is that James sitting in the car?”
I nod my head, observing his facial expression but I’m quick to find that he’s emotionless. Other than rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he doesn’t seem to react to my presence, or James’ just outside.
“Can we sit somewhere?” Why in the fuck does this feel so weird? So uncomfortable? Am I just tense because of all that resides in this fucking folder? Or is it him that’s giving off this vibe?
He runs his hand over his hair and down his nape, shrugging. “Yeah, ‘course.”
I saunter into the living room and sit myself on his massive L-shaped sofa. He seats himself on the opposite part of it—at a distance from—but still facing me. He does his signature pose, leaning back and relaxing his knees apart and I hate how fucking hot he looks doing something as simple as fucking sitting.
“Christ, where do I start?” I get nervous all the sudden as his eyes find mine and I have to look away.
Where the fuck do I start? Hayes didn’t know where to begin either. This is a shit-ton of information to toss at someone and it’s very serious. It’s hard to tiptoe carefully around it.
“When Ezra picked you up from prison, what’d he tell you?”
His brows furrow together, as if he’s surprised that I’ve come to talk to him about that topic. “What do you mean?”
“Well, like, who’d he say got you out of prison?”
Nate shrugs as if it’s the most normal of conversation, “He told me he pulled some strings and got me out.”
I pause, suddenly feeling like something is wrong. I can’t exactly explain it, but if I had spidey senses, they’d be fucking tingling like a hand that’s been fallen asleep on. Nate ‘s nonchalance and the thick tension in the air is like the warning sign that wails out to signal an incoming hurricane.
“Did he tell you that he’s the reason you’re in there too?” As I ask the question, my shaky hands find the photos of Lafayette and Ezra that Hayes printed out for me, and I toss them onto the cushion between Nate and me.
He doesn’t immediately react to the news, instead reaching for the pieces of paper. He studies them in silence, face not showing any sort of expression while I wait impatiently and anxiously. I’m waiting for the moment of realization, that second where it occurs to him that he’s being played by Ezra.
Where’s the anger? The frustration? The rage?
Where are all those feelings that I went through when Hayes revealed this shit to me?
Eventually—after what feels like eons but is only maybe a matter of a minute—he places the papers back down and slides them in my direction slowly. “I had my suspicions that he was the reason. I had a lot of time to think inside, and puzzle pieces started coming together. Never had any evidence, though.” He seems so calm, relaxed as he speaks and I shift uncomfortably as his gaze trails down my body, lighting my skin on fire everywhere his caramel-coloured irises find.
“How could you still work for him if that’s what you believe?”
His shoulders shrug again, “I—”
I don’t give him a chance to explain because that sense of calm at this news is making me infuriated. How could he idly sit by while Ezra takes control of both of our lives? How could this news not bother him even in the slightest?
“Did you know that he paid some other prisoner to cause a lockdown?” I throw that page down in front of him too—the one with the guards’ notes indicating that the prisoner was working for Ezra—and huff as Nate glances at it. “How do you know that stab wound wasn’t an attempt on your life? Maybe he fuckin’ paid those guys to kill you, too.”
He sighs and suddenly stands up. My mouth falls open as he asks, “Can I get you something to drink?” I grab all the papers tossed across the cushions and charge after him, throwing them down onto the island as his head is glancing into the fridge. He grabs two bottles of water and twists the lids off, placing one down in front of me.
“Is there something wrong with you? How in the fuck is this not registering with you? Ezra sent you to prison to keep you away from me, to get you under his thumb and you’re doing exactly what he wants!” My voice raises a few octaves as adrenaline starts coursing through my veins.
What the fuck is going on? The way he’s acting is proving to me that he’s known about this information the whole time. It’s why he’s so fucking chill about this—because he’s had fucking weeks to mull it over. If that’s the case, then why’d he ever break shit off with me? Why wouldn’t he tell me all of this himself? Why is he suddenly keeping secrets from me?
The fact that he’s clearly keeping things from me cuts me almost as deep as the fact that he’s working for Ezra. Everything I’ve ever found out, all the things I’ve done—except for that one time I visited Ezra—I told him about. I explained everything in great detail and he was always the first person to know.
Did a few weeks in prison change him this much?
I’m so fucking confused because the way he acted at James’ event—the one where we were first reunited—he seemed more like himself when he cornered me in the back room. Same goes for last night. He seemed like himself when he followed me to the bathroom.
So, what’s with the flip flop of personalities?
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