Supersonic| Zayn Malik |AU

// "Death is inevitable, it's a promise made to us at birth." // Arielle is a regular university student, until she meets Zayn. Zayn’s an illegal street racer, and he wants her, but he’s dangerous and that scares Arielle. What happens when one of Arielle’s friends falls for her? What happens when Zayn gets twisted up with the wrong people? It’s a story about lust, lies, and a love that develops at supersonic speeds, but suffers dire consequences. // in which he loves nothing more than cars and winning, until he meets her // ||| WARNING: This story has scenes of violence, drug use, mature content, sexual content, and foul language. ||| CAN BE FOUND ON WATTPAD WHERE IT'S UPDATED REGULARLY


29. Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight  




"I love you, Zayn."


The words slip out of my mouth without warning. The room is dead silent, other than the small background noise that's coming from the television speakers. Why did I just say it? I uttered those words . . . The words that could change every dynamic of our relationship. 


I know it's true - I do love him, but for some reason everything feels so fast when in reality it's not. We've known each other for months now, and that's adequate time to get to know, and to fall in love with someone. 


So why can I hear my heartbeat in my ears?


I'm tempted to roll over and gauge his reaction, but because of the lack of noise it makes me think he's already fallen asleep. But then I feel the mattress shifting and I can swear he's staring at the back of my head now. I remind myself that if I stay still maybe he'll think I'm asleep . . . 


Why isn't he saying anything? Does he not feel the same way? I wouldn't fault him for not feeling the same way. That's something that has always driven me crazy when I hear about other people's relationships. One person says the three words before the other, and the person who uttered said words gets mad because the words weren't returned. How can you get mad at someone for not lying to you? I'd rather wait and hear the words come from Zayn's lips when he actually feels that way towards me, not just because he's saying the words out of courtesy. 


I try to calm my breathing and my racing heart, but the silence is making me ten times more anxious than I should feel. Please say something Zayn. 


He's so silent that I can't even hear his breathing anymore. But I know that he's staring intently at the back of my head. I don't know what he's expecting to happen but this silence is deafening. 


"Wh-" he clears his throat, "what was that love?" His voice comes out in a quiet, yet raspy tone. It's enough to make my heart race even more. 


Do I repeat the words? Or do I pretend as if I'm asleep? I let out a heavy breath, which I think leads Zayn to believe I'm fast asleep. 


He shifts lightly on the bed again and this time I feel him spooning me. His arm wraps around my waist. I feel his body shifting to lean over mine I close my eyes. His breath fans over my shoulder as he leans over my body. I try to slow my breathing to help feign sleep but his scent overwhelms my senses. He's my favourite smell and inhaling him undeniably makes my heart flutter. 


"I'm getting there my love, I'm getting there," he whispers before placing a featherlight kiss to my temple. 


My love?


His arm wraps tightly around me until he grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers with ease. He tucks his chin into the crook of my neck and his stubble tickles my skin, which causes me to jerk a little. His chest - which is pushed tightly up against my back - vibrates with laughter. 


"You can stop feigning sleep babygirl," he says a little louder this time. 


And we're back to babygirl . . . 


My eyes fly open and I'm tempted to cover my face with my hands, the blankets, anything out of embarrassment. He chuckles again and I turn a little in his arms, loving his warmth. 


"What gave me away?" I mumble out. I'm too embarrassed to look at his eyes and so I stare at our hands, which are still entwined together. 


He darts forward, pressing his lips against my carotid artery - the artery in my neck that reveals my racing pulse. He leaves his lips there for a moment before pulling away. 


"Your pulse has gone rampant." His fingers slowly trace up the artery, an amused smirk playing across his lips. "You look like a terrified little bunny, love . . . Why?"


I don't realize I've shrunken away from him until his fingers reach for my chin, forcing me to look at him. He just stares at me, expecting an answer. 


"I just -" I release my hand from his grasp, fidgeting awkwardly with the blankets. 


"Are you mad at me?" He asks me. I look down at the ink on his chest, avoiding his gaze. "No, look at me," he demands. "Are you mad because I didn't say I love you?" 


My eyes find his. "No, of course not. I don't expect you to say it back to me." I grab his hand reassuringly, "say it back to me when you're ready."


He purses his lips, "are you sure you're not mad?" 


"How could I be mad? I'd rather you be truthful with me."


His hand traces shapes on the skin of my tummy. I feel his lips press softly against my shoulder. "Say it again," he says and then kisses my flesh again. 


"I love you." 


I turn my head towards him and he smiles at me. Actually smiles. Which causes a smile to tug at my lips. I fist my fingers through his hair before pulling him towards me. Without delay his tongue is pushing past my lips, toying with my own.


It immediately wakes me. My body wants his in the worst way, and I'm pretty sure the feeling is mutual. 


Without breaking the kiss I manage to shift my body until my knees go to his sides and I am straddling his lap. His hands roughly grope their way around my body in the dim light until he finds my a ss and he squeezes roughly. All of the feelings from just moments ago have been replaced by lust.


He pulls his lips from mine and without hesitation he darts to my neck where he first bites the skin and then sucks harshly. It causes a whimper to fall from my lips but he ignores the sound and places a kiss to the red mark. His eyes drink in my body shamefully. 


His fingertips dance up my spine which makes me arch my back, forcing my breasts into his face. I'm sure that was his intention because he stares at my breasts with wide eyes before licking his lips. He kisses the forming hickey, his lips slowly making their way down my body . . . down my neck, across my collarbone, and down the valley between my breasts. 


I rock my hips against his and watch in admiration as he throws his head back. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he tries to control himself. I watch the colour in his eyes darken a shade. 


He calls my name and throws his head back again, sucking in air between his teeth. His hands squeeze my a ss while I continue the motion that I know is driving him crazy. I can feel him hardening underneath the thin layer of his boxer-briefs. I roughly rake my fingernails down his chest, being sure to leave a mark. 


"F uck," he murmurs out. "Arielle."


"Zayn," I tease. His hands move up my body until they reach the straps of my bra. He places a kiss on top of each breast before carefully pulling each strap down. He removes the cups from my body and carelessly tosses the fabric across the room. 


He pushes his whole body towards mine, with enough force that I lean away from him, but he just places his hand on my back so that we're chest to chest. He has to lean his head back when he pushes his tongue past my lips.


I immediately start fumbling for the waistband of his boxer-briefs and I tug them down. We have to break apart so that he can kick them off his legs. 


When he tosses them onto the floor he turns back around towards me, signalling for me to lay on my back. I do as I'm told and he immediately hovers over me. His fingers teasingly run over my panties and I arch my back at the pleasurable feeling. I mumble out several curse words when he rubs faster while sucking on my left nipple.


A whimper falls from my lips when he pulls his hands away from my body. But I recognize the familiarity of his touch when his fingers hook into the waistband of my panties. He quickly tugs them down and without warning licks a bold strip directly where I need him most. I close my eyes from the overwhelming amount of pleasure coursing through my veins. 


When I open my eyes to look at him he's smirking again. "Do you want me to f uck you nicely?" He leans in, biting the skin on my shoulder. 


I decide to be assertive and I push him backwards. He looks confused for a mili-second before that infamous smirk crosses his lips. I push him until his back hits the mattress. Grabbing his hands and pinning them above his head I whisper in his ear, "I think we both know what we want." 


He strains against my hands for a moment. I know that he could easily pull his hands free, but he humours me, pretending he can't break free from my grasp. "K inky, are we?" He smirks.


"Lay on your back and put your hands above your head," he commands. I do what he tells me, but not before teasingly rubbing against his hardness. He curses loudly. I watch as he gently picks up my panties, testing the elasticity by stretching them as far as he possibly can. They're lace, so there really isn't much stretch to them. 


Zayn smirks wickedly before he shifts on the bed, straddling me. Within a few seconds he's managed to bind my wrists together with my own panties. I try to pull them away but my arms don't move. He's somehow tied me to the headboard.


He kisses my lips briefly before his lips begin wandering down my body at a torturous pace. I tug at the restraint, desperate to reciprocate the feeling he's giving me. I'm desperate to touch him. I want to tug at his beautifully thick hair. I want to feel his skin. Every time he pulls away from me I'm missing that heavenly electricity that flows through my veins.


Zayn starts a new love bite on my breast, completely distracting me. I suddenly feel him slipping into me and a moan escapes my lips. "F uck," he moans out.


I gasp and throw my head back as my back begins arching off the mattress. As he begins thrusting, my arms tug and pull out of an instinct to touch him. He digs his face into the crook of my neck, already panting. I can feel the sweat gathering on both of our bodies. The thermostat is now much too high. I inhale the sweet scent of his sweat as if I need the smell to breathe properly. 


I moan out his name almost as if I'm a broken record. I know he doesn't love me, but I'm okay with that. I know that he has his ways of showing just how much he cares about me. I'm hopeful that someday he will love me. Deep within me I know that someday he will love me. 


He bucks his hips harshly, thrusting faster. I gasp as he manages to push himself deeper within me. My arms tug at the restraint again, desperate to return some of the feeling he's giving me. I gravely want to run my hands through his hair. I need to touch him. 


Almost as if he can read my thoughts, he suddenly leans over and kisses me. His eyes dart towards the necklace strung around my neck. He places his lips to the pendant, whispering, "you're so beautiful."


He's making me feel incredible and I'm still so desperate to return the favour and so I do what I can - I begin rotating my hips. I earn a low grunt from his lips. "Show me how good I make you feel angel." My insides twist deliciously when I hear his raspy voice in my ear. 


"Zayn, I'm-" before I can finish my sentence I climax, yelling out his name. I moan his name out so loudly that I'm sure the neighbouring rooms can hear us. When I look up at him he has that arrogant look on his face - the one that appears every time he makes me quiver like this. 


"F uck," he curses again. "I'm close babygirl . . . yes . . . just like that . . . c hrist." He starts pounding into me unrelentingly. He continues the pace until he hits his climax after another minute or two. He sloppily thrusts into me until he can no longer bear his own weight. He pulls out of me and collapses onto the bed beside me. 


I try wriggling free of the brace, not even caring at this point if I end up ripping my panties. He notices my struggle and turns over on the bed, "you want out?"


I nod my head, panting out a, "yes."


He chuckles, "say it."


"I want out. Please untie me."


"Mm," he hums, running his index finger down my body teasingly. He grips the necklace chain and pulls gently. "Not that. Say you love me again. I want to hear it."


I huff, a little annoyed and yet flattered that he wants to hear it again.


"I love you," I repeat. "Please untie the girl that loves you because she's losing feeling in her hands."


He chuckles dryly before adjusting himself on the bed, "that's what I like to hear." His hands fiddle with my panties, trying to untie the knot he made. After a few moments of irritation he looks down at me, "you don't have any sentimental value to these knickers, do you love?"


I shake my head, "wh-"


Before I even have a chance to ask why, there's a loud rip in the room and I don't need to look up to know that he's completely shredded my panties in two. It was inevitable that it would happen with Zayn around. 


When my hands are finally free I soothe the ache in my wrists. I'm sure there'll be some bruising come morning because of my constant tugging. How in the h ell do I hide these bruises?


For a moment we lay there together, completely naked and spent and it reminds me of a quote I once read: 

- "One of the most beautiful things in life is to lay in bed, completely naked with the one you love. There's nothing more raw, or so loving than sharing not only the sheets together, but skin. The warmth and softness of their tummy, the way your bodies mesh and tangle together as your breathing and your heartbeats become one, like a beautiful concerto piece. Not only do your bodies come together, but your souls do as well. You don't see where you begin and they end, but that's the beauty of it. You are simply just one."


Never did I expect to fall in love with Zayn, but I did. And if I ever had to go back and do it all over again, there isn't a single thing I'd change. 


I get out of the bed and walk across the room. When I turn, Zayn's staring at me. "You coming?" I ask. 


"Where are we going love?" He stands up and I shamefully memorize every inch of his naked, tatted hazelnut skin. God, he's beautiful. 


"I'm going to have a bath, care to join?" I tease. 


He looks at the clock, which reads that it's after one in the morning. When he looks back at me, he opens his mouth to speak but ends up raking his eyes up and down my body. "Who am I to deny a woman's needs?" 


I roll my eyes which causes him to chuckle. I walk into the bathroom and begin to fill the tub with hot water. I pour the provided bubblebath into the water and watch as the suds begin to form. Zayn comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my body to rest on my tummy. The digits on his one hand play absentmindedly with my belly button piercing. I lean instinctively into his touch as he peppers kisses to the crook of my neck.


Eventually I pull away from him and he steps into the tub first. He sits down in the water with a small hiss because of the temperature. I follow suit, sitting between his legs. 


I love him. I do. I can repeat the words to myself a thousand times and it'll still make me smile. Love was an odd concept. I've never been in love, I know that. But in some ways I felt I never was really sure what love was. I always assumed it was like when you were little and you knew exactly what you wanted. It was just this automatic reaction that you knew you had to have whatever it was, and you wanted it . . . forever. It's just this thing, this feeling that hits you. And I know that now because I had that feeling with Zayn. This feeling just hit me today and I knew that this is how it's supposed to be. 


The whole concept of love is terrifying. I'm scared as hell to want Zayn. It's been months and I still don't know everything about him, yet here I am thinking to myself about how I love him . . . and love is forever, right? This sudden fear within me means that I have something to lose. If things don't work out between us, well Zayn's lost a girlfriend, but me . . . I've lost a man I'm in love with. I don't want to lose him. So now that I've told him I love him I've given him all the power. I've given him everything, trusting that he won't break me. 


"What are you thinking about?" Zayn asks as he splashes the hot water onto my arms, rubbing up and down soothingly. 


"You," I admit. 


He places a featherlight kiss to the back of my shoulder, "what about me?"


"The things I like about you, I guess." 


"And what exactly is it that you like about me, my girl?" 


I shrug my shoulders which Zayn takes as a cue to massage them. His strong hands work the muscles, causing me to let out a light moan. It just feels too good. 


"Do I make you feel good?" He murmurs against the shell of my ear. 


"Yes," I reply, breathless. "Do I make you feel good?"


He chuckles, "you make me feel really h orny, does that count?" 


I purse my lips, "I guess in a way it does." It falls silent for a moment. "What do you like about me?" I ask. 


His hands move from my shoulders down my spine. He knows it's my weakness and so he uses it to his advantage, making me basically putty in his hands. 


"I think you're beautiful, intelligent, strong, caring, thoughtful and I love your refusal to see the bad in people because if you saw the bad in me we wouldn't be here right now . . ." I'm about to melt in his hands. "But I also hate it because it gets you into sticky situations."


"Do you-"


"And I love the freckles on your cheeks. You really shouldn't cover them up as often because they're bloody adorable. And I love that you act so innocent, yet you're so-" he leans in, whispering in my ear, "deliciously sinful." He pulls back, splashing more water against my body. "And your body is so heavenly curved." 


He sits up so that his chest is pushed against my back. "You're always so shy or embarrassed about these." He reaches for the outer parts of my thighs, which have small white lines on them - faint stretch marks. "Why? You're beautiful with them, or without them. Don't ever be embarrassed by your body my angel, it's heavenly."


"I love you," I say again because I'm unsure of how to reply. He's being nice and sincere and loving which is becoming so much more regular with him. And he's talking as if he's in love with me but I guess somewhere in his brain it's just a strong sense of like. 


It falls silent again between us. 


"What would you like to do tomorrow?" I ask him. 


"Would you like to be stereotypical tourists?" He replies. "We could do Central Park, Statue of Liberty, Rockefeller, Empire State building, Times Square, whatever you want to do, babygirl."


"What time does our flight leave tomorrow?" I rub my hands up and down his legs underneath the water. 


"Sometime later in the evening. I think around eight or nine."


"We could talk about it in the morning?" I suggest. The warmth of the water has me feeling exhausted and I'm now struggling to keep my eyes open. I end up yawning uncontrollably.


Zayn runs his hands through my hair, "c'mon, let's get to bed." He carefully stands up behind me, helping lift me out of the tub. He helps me to sit down on the toilet as he drains the water. When he's done, he dries us both off with a towel and we head out of the bathroom. 


When we enter the bedroom I'm shaking from the cold. Once again, I'm thankful for the high temperature in the room. Zayn shuffles through my luggage until he finds a clean pair of panties and he tosses them to me. I groggily slip them on and then Zayn tosses one of his shirts at me. I slip it on too and by the time I'm done, Zayn's already standing in his boxer-briefs. He quickly checks that the hotel room is locked and then he helps me get into bed. 


"Aren't you joining me?" I ask, sleepily as he walks over to the other side of the room and begins shuffling through his luggage. 


"Smoke," is all he replies, holding up a cigarette in my direction. I manage to nod my head but I'm unsure if he saw it or not. I listen as he puts on jeans and a jacket and I hear the balcony doors open. I feel a burst of cold that hits my face. 


After some time I hear the balcony doors open and close again, the removing of clothing and then I feel the bed dip as a body crawls in beside me. I feel panicked a little at first, not knowing if it's Zayn or not but then he cuddles in close to me and I feel the familiar warmth that accompanies his body. 


Along with the smell of his cologne and the fresh stench of cigarettes, I know it's the man I'm madly in love with.


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