Hypersonic
Copyright© 2026 by nyra
Chapter 95
Romance Sex Story: Chapter 95 - 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 With An Agreement
Alternate Title: The One With The Smell Of Him
A R I E L L E
The moment we step into the club, I wince at the scent of it—an undeniable mixture of booze and blowjobs.
Chase instantly hollers and starts dancing and singing to a song blaring around us by The Weeknd. He even yells at the same time Abel does one of his signature shouts in the song and I can’t help but laugh.
A bit of unease prickles at my skin, but I push it down and lay it to rest. I don’t know why I feel unsettled being here. I’m not doing anything wrong, but I can’t fight that slight bit of guilt that I can’t seem to get rid of.
I don’t think Nate would be mad that I’m here, but I can’t help what I feel. I’m trying to control it and to move on and though I believe I’m becoming more successful at it, I’m not perfect.
My friends wanted me to go out tonight—Chase, especially—because they want me to get out of the house and begin doing normal shit again.
And I get it. I need to navigate what my social life will look like without Nate.
As a group of six, we head over to one of the empty booths on the far side of the space. Seating ourselves, I end up squished between Chase and James. When a waiter circles around, we all order drinks—James gets me a mojito—and then Chase gets a round of tequila for the group.
I debate whether to say no to the mojito—considering I tend to prefer drinks that haven’t already been opened—but I leave it be.
“Hope everyone’s ready to get fucked!” Chase shouts it over the music, smile plastered on his face as he releases another holler. He then grabs Zara’s jaw in his hand and presses a messy kiss to her mouth.
“Fuck yeah!” Jin agrees, blatantly checking out a woman who walks past in a tight pair of shorts and a top that scoops low in the front.
“Aha!” Chase exclaims, his smile stretching wider. “This guy gets it.”
The waiter comes back with his tray full of drinks, which he passes out. All of us grab our shots, raising them in the air as Chase toasts, “To bad decisions.”
I roll my eyes, nonetheless clinking my glass to everyone else’s before I down the tequila, wincing as it burns down my throat. I hear James curse lowly beside me as he swallows the liquor, and I laugh at his reaction.
“Did you roll your eyes at me, Arielle Hawthorne?” Chase’s voice is hoarse as the alcohol makes its way down his throat.
“And what if I did?”
He elbows me—probably harder than he should—and I scowl in his direction before teasingly shoving him back. “I never said I was here to make bad decisions,” I add.
Chase’s lips turn upwards in a Cheshire cat-like grin. “I beg to differ,” he pauses to sip on the cocktail he’d ordered. “Every night with me ends in bad decisions being made.”
“Yeah, I can see it now.” Nadia’s voice cuts through Chase and I’s conversation and when my eyes meet hers, she’s smiling in a knowing way. “When you said that Jin and I remind you of you and your best friend—I get it.”
“Like brother and sister.” I raise my mojito, using my statement as a cheers and everyone clinks their glasses to mine before having a sip.
As I’m slurping back my drink, Chase leans over close so that only I’m able to hear as he whispers, “You’re gonna’ fuck James tonight.”
I choke on my mouthful.
“I’d bet a hundred bucks on it.” When he pulls back, he has that evil, plotting look. Like he’s Dr. Evil and has just planned another fucking massive harebrained scheme. He leans in close, “If nothing else, I’d bet half that you kiss him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That isn’t the plan for tonight. I don’t have any fucking plan. The only thing I’m focused on is having fun and not thinking depressing thoughts. Consequences aren’t entirely at the forefront of my brain either, but it’s not like I’m getting stupid drunk. Drunk Arielle can be a sobbing, puking, I-hate-my-fucking-life mess and nobody wants to deal with that shit.
With a final annoying Chase-like jab, he whispers, “Make sure you use a condom, Ari. Oh, and consent is key.” When I punch him, he laughs hysterically.
He proceeds to chug the cocktail he has, orders another two shots and then he’s grabbing Zara’s arm and pulling her towards the dancefloor. The second he hits the area, he’s grinding all over her and then the music changes to something with less bass and I can swear we’re at some spring break party.
If only I didn’t love the guy, I’d be merciless.
I don’t even notice that Jin has left at some point—I can only assume to go dance with someone—until James leans in close to me to inform me that he’s going to get another drink. I nod my head, watching him stand and begin to make his way through the crowd.
“He likes you,” Nadia tells me with a smile, as she scoots closer. “He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“We used to date,” I tell her.
“I can see that. He’s clearly not over you.”
When she says the words, I glance across the room, spotting James at the bar. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he lifts his head, meeting my gaze.
“Do you feel the same?” She leans in close to me, so close that her breath fans across my bare shoulder.
I take a sip of my drink, trying to avoid the question long enough that I’m able to think about it.
I still care about James, sure. I don’t know that it’s ever truly dissipated. He’s a wonderful guy and the only reason we’d even initially broken up was because he broke shit off with me because he knew I was in love with Nate.
There’s a possibility that if Nate would’ve stayed in prison, James and I would’ve ended up together. He’s similar to Nate in many ways that it seems only natural.
However, it’s only been a little over four months since the accident. As much as I’ve always liked James, I don’t think I’m ready for anything serious with anybody.
Would I like to get railed? Yeah, considering it’s been months since anybody touched me.
When everything happened, I didn’t feel any sexual desire whatsoever, but I think that’s understandable. I was in an extremely low place and that was the last thing on my mind—even when I got the piercing done through the hood of my clit.
In the last few weeks—nearly months, I think—that I’ve been messaging with Najjad, that’s slowly begun to change. Our conversations started off simple. We were getting to know one another.
In the time that’s passed, I find myself talking to him daily. The messages only became flirty and more dirty in the last couple weeks. He makes me feel good and even though I don’t know what he looks like, he still makes me feel appreciated and important. I can’t really explain it.
I’d sent him a nude photo a couple weeks back, and I can admit, part of me had ulterior motives. Mostly, I wanted to feel sexy and desired again. But also, there’s that part of me that was hoping he’d be interested in returning the favour. At least then, I would’ve gotten the slightest inkling of what he looks like.
I enjoy talking to him more than I ever could’ve imagined. When he’d first messaged me, I never thought much about it, but he’s become an important part of my days. In a way, I believe he’s the person who’s helped me to grieve the most. I don’t even know how he’s done it, but he has.
There is that tiny part of me that’s hesitant, however, because you simply have no idea who you could be talking to on the internet. It’s totally possible that I’m being catfished. So why would I send a nude photo? Well, for starters, my face wasn’t in it. Also, I have no shame. I’ve always been like this. Breasts are breasts. Free the nipple.
But more than all that, I know that this guy’s legit. Even though I haven’t seen him and I have no clear and obvious physical or visual evidence that he’s real and he is who he says he is, I still know within the depths of my heart that he’s not catfishing me.
Of course that goes without saying, that I do hope he’ll feel comfortable enough with me some day to show his face. We’ve been talking for a while now and with each day that passes, I get more curious about what he looks like. Is he tall? Short? Brown hair? Black?
For now, I have to imagine what Najjad’s appearance is, but James is here. He exists in the flesh. I can see him, touch him, and I still have that connection with him. It hasn’t gone away.
“You do,” Nadia tells me.
“I do.” My voice is low because there’s a part of me that hurts to admit that out loud. “But, I—”
“Girl, get out of your head.” She elbows me lightly, giving me a smile. “For the first time in months, let loose. Don’t think about all the bullshit. Just enjoy yourself. Lord knows you deserve it.”
I want to, but I’m not sure if I can. My mind’s been an endless stream of worry and sadness for so long now that it’s hard to get out of that state of mind sometimes. I’ve been getting better at it, I think, but I do still have my moments where I backslide.
“I’m trying,” I admit to her. I honestly don’t know that I can do much better than try.
As the server comes back with the two shots that Chase ordered earlier, Nadia grabs them once he disappears. “Here,” she slides it in front of me wearing a smile that tells me she’s up to no good, “This’ll help.”
I pick it up and we tap our glasses together before downing the liquor that I quickly learn is more tequila. Warmth spreads in my chest as the liquid makes its way down my esophagus and Nadia grabs my hand to pull me towards the dancefloor.
She leads me to the edge, near a group of particularly good looking men. I narrow my eyes in her direction teasingly, onto her little games. I can admit that I’m a good sport, but if she’s about to literally shove me in the arms of some stranger, I won’t be too happy.
Eventually, the idea dies in the back of my brain and I finally let loose. I force any and all thoughts out of my mind and simply live in the moment, enjoying the feeling—the music thumping around me, the little bit of liquor singing in my veins, the length of my hair brushing across my back. I close my eyes and move my body to the beat, forgetting everything.
When I feel someone grab my arm a few minutes later, I find Nadia standing with two attractive men. The taller one—blonde with blue eyes and who isn’t hanging off Nadia—eyes me up, wasting no time in asking if I’d like to dance with him. However, I tell him not right now, liking the vibe I got going on by myself too much at the moment.
“Suit yourself,” Nadia tells me, not at all disappointed as she grabs the hand of the other guy and pulls him deeper into the sea of people where I see her grinding on him and then the crowd swallows her up. The dude that asked me to dance shrugs his shoulders and drunkenly moves on to another woman.
The song changes and I go back to dancing, feeling the stress and the worry as it lifts off my shoulders.
As I’m dancing, vibing to the low bass of the music, it feels like I’m being watched. I ignore the feeling, enjoying the moment as I let loose for the first time in what feels like forever. My mind isn’t consumed with thoughts of the past and I’m doing my best to not think about what that potentially means.
Spinning, I finally find a pair of eyes that aren’t able to tear themselves away from me.
Brown eyes that burn a path of fire up my bare legs, studying my sternum tattoo that’s exposed for his eyes because of the transparent corseted part of the dress. When James’ eyes finally find mine, I expect him to smirk, to smile, to drink—to do something—but he doesn’t. Almost as if he’s frozen, his stare is heated and there isn’t a doubt in my mind what he’s thinking.
I continue dancing, holding eye contact with him as I sway my hips to the beat. He tosses back what’s left of whatever he was drinking and puts the glass down, unable to tear his eyes from mine as he approaches, making his way through the crowd that separates us with ease.
By the time he’s made it to me, I’ve spun and he wastes no time in pressing his hands to my hips, pulling my ass to him. In my heels, I’m considerably taller and he uses that to his advantage, placing his chin in the crook of my shoulder.
For the first time in over four months I feel sexy. I don’t feel depressed, sad, angry, hopeless. I feel desired, wanted, free, and happy.
A pang of guilt hits my chest at thinking that very word—happy—and I push it down as I spin in James’ arms so I’m able to place my hands to his chest.
As we continue to dance, I trace along the cobweb inked to the curve of his neck, reaching for the top button to his shirt. Carefully, I undo it and the next two, revealing more skin for my eyes. I hook my hands under the material of his shirt, smoothing over his built chest to spread the polyester apart so I can better study his new tattoo.
A skull is inked in the middle of his chest—it’s large, touching each pec—and is surrounded by a series of beautifully shaded roses. I scrutinize the geometric pattern in the background that surely ties in with his arm piece.
“Principessa,” he mutters, observing me learn his new piece. His voice is a low husk that I know all too well.
“It’s beautiful, James.” I prefer his shirt unbuttoned that little bit, so I leave it and move my hands upwards to hook around his neck. My one thumb caresses his crown tattoo as I admit to him, “I’ve missed you.”
“I never went anywhere,” he tells me, leaning in close to my ear so I’m able to hear him over the noise that engulfs us.
“I know, but I still missed you.” His hands are on my waist as we dance to the music—although, a different kind of intimate than this particular song calls for. I grab his hand and push it downwards, making him grope my ass.
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