Miranda clutched at her chest for hundredth time that day. It was becoming an all too familiar habit since her boyfriend had walked out on her. Lewis had left without any real reason. One day he was there and they were in love: the next he was gone. She begged him to stay, begged him to just talk it out, but it fell on deaf ears. Lewis refused to talk. So for weeks now Miranda would feel the pangs of missing him and clutch her chest in an attempt to hold it together, as if the gaping hole left by Lewis would swallow her whole.

She had perfected the art of smiling and pretending she was okay; though she was anything but. Miranda’s own personal demons were released by him leaving. They took great pleasure and delight in telling her that it was because she wasn’t good enough, that she was a bad girl, and that she was hard to love. All of these things she had all heard before, things she knew deep inside to be true, even if for a short time Lewis had made her believe otherwise.

Night after night dragged on she found herself wrapped in his shirt holding on to his scent, clinging to that last little bit of hope that he would return.

Miranda woke from a sound sleep in need of the bathroom. Earlier that night she decided to drink the entire bottle of wine left in her fridge instead of eating dinner. She spent the evening singing loudly and dancing around her living room. It also meant she passed out on top of her bed with the light still on.

She squinted and grumbled something about bright lights and crawled out of bed on wobbly legs. She made it to the bathroom and only stumbled once in the hall, giggling at herself until she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Miranda froze in her tracks, stunned at the state she was in and thought that it had to be a trick of the light. She flicked the light switch in the hall and walked back to the mirror. What greeted her made her gasp.

Looking back at her was not the intelligent, fun, sexy woman she had once been. This woman looking back at her looked wild, borderline feral. Standing in a wrinkled, over-sized white button up shirt was a wilding; her curly auburn hair standing up in places looking unkempt, make-up smeared down her gaunt cheeks and dark circles under her swollen eyes. Even her eyes had a bit of wildness to them, like a frightened animal ready for fight or flight.

This was the smack of reality Miranda needed to wake her up. She touched her face and turned her head from side to side, then ran her fingers through her hair.

“No more.” Even her voice sounded strange. “What have I done to myself?”

Miranda crawled back in the bed and wrapped her blanket around her. She suddenly felt too hot, so she kicked the covers off then pulled Lewis’ shirt off, throwing it across the room as if it was the reason for her discomfort. Pulling her blanket back up, Miranda did something she hadn’t done in weeks; she slept soundly through the night.

Saturday morning she woke with a new feeling, a new sense of power. Miranda threw her hair in a ponytail and went for a run, something she hadn’t done in a while. The harder she pushed herself the madder she became. She struggled whether to be more upset with Lewis or herself. In the end she realized she was angrier at herself for behaving so weak.

Rounding the corner of her street she said again, “No more.”

Miranda decided what she needed was to stop wallowing. So she ran a bath to shave and buff every inch of her then showered to wash her hair. She was going out.

She was sitting at the bar sipping on her third coconut mojito and watching the crowd. Her short, tight, ass hugging red dress and her four inch high, silver, peep-toed heels left little doubt that Miranda was on the lookout for a rebound. There were a dozen men that she could have hit on and taken home, most of them were eagerly trying to catch her eye, but the one man she was drawn to was not.

He was aware of her because of the sideways glances he kept making. He was the only man in the club wearing jeans, the rest were all in suits and slacks. His button up was clean and pressed, but there was something dirty about him. Not dirty as he needed to bathe, something dirty as in Miranda knew he would fuck Lewis from her mind.

Miranda wanted him and was tired of him not paying her enough attention, so she turned her chair until she was facing him fully. He was sitting right of the crowded dance floor, and except for the occasional person walking by, he had a clear shot of her. She pressed her glass to her thigh and gasped at the cold. Spreading her legs slowly, she ran the glass up her inner thigh.

She could see other men watching her, but her eyes were locked on him and to her complete excitement, he was finally focused on her.

The glass was pressed to her inner thigh; she dipped a finger in it and brought the drop up to her waiting tongue. Miranda licked her finger and then sucked it into her mouth. Her legs spread further apart, exposing herself to anyone on that side of the bar, and she didn’t care.

Miranda moved the glass up higher, spreading her legs further. The glass was the only thing blocking her pussy from the room. Again, she dipped her finger in her glass, licked this drop off and sucked it into her mouth.

Her eyes had been so intent on the man in the jeans she completely missed the other man until he was right in front of her. “Hi, I’m…”

“Not interested, I’m flirting with my boyfriend,” she snapped, cutting him off without even looking at him.

Miranda was only interested in the man that was now walking towards her. She looked him in his eyes, wrapped her lips around the straw, gave him a wink and turned her back to him.

Miranda felt his body heat before she heard his deep voice in her ear. “Hello.”

Her body leaned into his and turned her head so she was inches from his face.

“Hi.”

“You’ve been eye fucking me for the last half an hour.”

Miranda felt wetness flow through her lips at his blunt words. “Yes.”

She felt his breath on her neck. “Is that what you want little girl? You want to get fucked?”

“Yes,” came out in a shaky whisper.

Without a word the man took her by the elbow, led her through the crowd and into the men’s room. His body and mouth pressed into her, pushing her against the back of the bathroom door. Her leg came up and wrapped around his leg. His hand wrapped around her thigh lifting it higher.

“You are a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“How dirty?”

Miranda’s hand came between them and gripped his cock through his jeans. “Find out.”

With a low growl he released her and turned her towards the door. Then raised her arms above her head and pulled her hips back. “Don’t you fucking move.”

“No,” she whispered.

He lifted her dress over her hips and around her waist showing that what he saw in the bar was accurate, she didn’t have panties on. “Oh you are a dirty little slut aren’t you? You came here to get fucked like a dirty little slut didn’t you?”

Miranda looked over her shoulder and nodded.

“You need to feel alive again don’t you, slut? Some man hurt you and now you need to wake up?”

Miranda continued to nod, unable to speak.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, his hands pressed on the inside of her thighs already pulling them apart.

He leaned along her body and bit her hard on her neck and growled again, sending shivers down her spine. “I’m going to fuck you like a slut, like my little slut. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she moaned.

His hands were rough and squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples through the thin material. With his hand cupping her left breast his right hand moved down her body, over her ass and between her legs.

“So fucking wet.”

His fingers pressed between her lips and slid up across her star making her arms slide down the door. His hand smacked her ass hard causing her to cry out.

“I said don’t move.”

Her arms went back up and his fingers were back between her legs. His hands were hard and rough, working man hands, and each callous felt amazing along her over heated body. Fingers pressed hard on her clit, rubbing back and forth then sliding down her length dipping slightly into her and dragging up along her bottom. She would feel the pressure of his finger dipping ever so slightly into her star then he would run it back down starting the process over again.

Miranda whimpered loudly and pressed her bottom back against him, silently begging for it like a cat in heat.

“What’s a matter, slut? You want to get fucked now, is that it?”

“Yes,” she whined.

“Wrong response,” he said and began patting her swollen dripping lips.

“Oh God.” Her knees buckled and he caught her waist.

“What do you want?”

She whimpered again, “Please.”

His fingers smacked harder and faster on her pussy.

“Oh please,” she cried out.

The man’s finger slipped between her lips circling her opening. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He dipped his finger deep inside her, pulling it out then slowly back in. “Fuck you like this? Nice and slow, is that what you want?”

Miranda frantically shook her head back and forth; she thought she was going to explode with need.

“Then tell me how you want to be fucked. Say it. You know what I want to hear. Say it!”

“Please fuck me! Please fuck me like the dirty little slut I am.”

“Good girl.” And with that she felt the head of his cock push fully inside her.

“Oh God!” she cried out over the thumping sounds of the bass.

He grabbed her hips and began fucking her hard and fast the way she needed it. His cock pounded in and out of her, the door was rattling and anyone on the other side knew exactly what was going on, but Miranda didn’t care. All she cared about this cock deep inside pussy.

She turned over her shoulder at this stranger behind her, “You like fucking me don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You like fucking my slutty little pussy, does it feel good?”

“God yes, you are such a fucking slut. You are my slut.”

Miranda felt the orgasm coming it was building fast and she wanted it, she wanted to cum on this man’s cock.

“Fuck my pussy. Come on, make this dirty whore cum on your cock.”

His fingers twisted in her hair pulling her head back and his fingers dug deep into her hip. “You want to cum on my dick? Then do it slut, cum on my dick. Give it to me.”

He slammed harder and Miranda couldn’t take it anymore, the pressure broke and she came hard, pushing back into him crying out, “Oh fuuck!”

“That’s it you dirty fucking whore,” he growled through gritted teeth.

Miranda felt his fingers tighten in her hair as he pulled it back further seconds before she felt him cumming deep inside her. He slammed into her a few more times and held still. They were both collapsed, leaning on the door.

After a few minutes there was a knock on the door. “Are you done?”

Miranda flushed and pulled her skirt down turning in time to see him tucking his now limp cock back inside his jeans.

“Thank you baby,” he said giving her a gentle kiss.

She grinned, “No, thank you.”

With that Miranda opened the door and passed a line of men waiting to get in. Cum was sliding down her thighs, her faced was flushed and her hair disheveled. She knew what they were thinking and it excited her. She stopped at the bar, retrieved her bag and coat then walked out of the bar knowing she was going to be just fine.

There is nothing a little rebound sex can’t fix.