#1 | The Aftermath - Phantom Rider Series

#15 | Where's Smoke There's Fire

An hour and a half later, Mila pushed through the crowd in the club, cocktail in hand, visibly grumpy. She looked around, searching for someone, but not finding a single familiar face, she sat down by the bar. "Fuck, I hate this," she thought to herself. Alice had promised to join her, but as usual, she was late. Mila was not here to have fun; she was here to get wasted, to take off the burden of her fucked-up life, and to see Bill for just five minutes - alone.

Matt had gotten on her nerves too much this time, so she snuck out of the house to hide in the safest place in Tokyo—an open crowd.

Across the club dance floor, next to a table hidden in a dark corner, stood Bill. He noticed Mila the moment she walked in. He smirked, his eyes following her every move. "Why is she here all of a sudden?"

He toyed with the idea of approaching her but held himself back, knowing the type of problems it would cause. "What would I even say? Hey, tonight instead of killing each other, how about a dance?" The thought was absurd, yet he couldn't deny the urge to pull her onto the dance floor.

Instead, he looked at Laura, who stood nearby, and drew her close, making sure Mila could see them. He danced with her provocatively, his hands all over her.

Mila's heart pounded as she noticed him making out with Laura yet again, a surge of jealousy mixed with anger and lust shooting through her. She hated the way he made her feel, but she couldn't deny the raw attraction she felt for him. She needed to get him out of her head, or more accurately... she needed to get him.

"Shit, I can't watch this anymore!" Mila muttered under her breath, pushing through the crowd and past Bill intentionally so he'd notice her, heading towards the back of the club for a smoke. Bill did noticed her leaving and, without second thought, excused himself from his dance partner. He followed Mila, a confident smile spreading across his face, realizing she did care about him after all. He couldn't let her slip away so easily.

As he rounded a dark corner outside the club, he almost collided with her. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the noise of the club fading into the background. The look in her eyes was a confusing -  anger, pain, need, and something else he couldn't quite place.

"Needed a smoke?" Bill asked, his voice husky, his eyes smudged with black eyeliner, his messy hair falling over his sweaty forehead.

"Yeah," Mila replied, her frustration boiling over. "But I need something else more."

Bill's eyebrows shot up, the alcohol making him bold. "What do you need from me, princess?"

Without another word, Mila stepped closer, her breath hot on his ear. "I need you to fuck me. Right here, right now."

Bill froze, momentarily stunned by her directness. But he didn't need any more encouragement. In a swift, almost practiced motion, he pulled out his gun and pressed it against her temple, a twisted smile on his lips. "You think you can just appear and demand things from me?"

Mila's breath hitched. "Do it," she whispered, her voice trembling not with fear, but with desire surging through her veins. He could shoot her, she didn't care.

Bill's smirk widened, and he shoved the gun back into his waistband. "Crazy bitch," he whispered, grabbing her by the waist and slamming her against the wall, their mouths crashing together in a desperate kiss. Mila's hands traveled his body, needy and demanding.

He hiked up her dress, fingers finding her wet and ready. "You sure about this?" he growled, his voice was thick and low. 

"Yes, damn it," Mila gasped, her body craving his touch. "I need you. Now."

Bill hesitated briefly, his hand searching for something in his pocket, then shook his head, urgency overtaking caution. "No time," he muttered, his breath ragged.

"Don't care," Mila replied, pulling him closer. "Just do it."

With a quick motion, he undid his pants and pressed her against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist while he held her, pulling her panties to the side and sliding his dick inside her. Mila gasped, her body tensing at the initial intrusion. He was bigger than she imagined ( and, yes, she did though of that before ) , and the sensation was a mix of pain and overwhelming pleasure. She bit her lip, eyes closed, adjusting to the intense feeling.

The dark corner provided just enough cover as they moved together, the beat of the music masking their sounds.

Mila wrapped her arms around him, nails digging into his shoulders. "Faster," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Bill lost control, thrusting deeper, faster, consumed by the raw urgency. He felt her body tighten around him, her gasps growing more desperate. He didn't even try to take it slow fearing someone would caught them.

"Fuck, Mila," he groaned, his movements becoming more frantic.

"I'm close," she gasped, her body trembling with the build-up.

"Me too," he moaned in her ear, his grip on her tightening.

With a final, powerful thrust, they both reached climax, their bodies shaking from pleasure and alcohol. For a moment, everything else vanished, leaving only the two of them in the dark, lost in their own world.

As their breathing slowed, Bill pulled back slightly, looking into Mila's eyes. "This is the first and only time we'll ever do this," he said firmly, kissing her on the lips, though there was a hint of regret in his voice.

"I know," Mila replied, her fingers tracing his jawline. "But right now, I don't care."

They straightened their clothes, the reality of the club seeping back in. They rejoined the mass of people, each finding their separate friends. Mila finally found Alice, and Bill went back to the table where Georg and Gustav and the girls kept drinking shots, not even noticing his brief absence.

The tension that had once been unbearable was finally gone, leaving them both feeling oddly relieved. They had done it, and now they could move on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened.