Free Bombshell: A BWWM Billionaire Amnesia Romance Suspense Novel by Mia Caldwell Page A

screwing, mostly she just gave him the physical details. She loved describing the hardness and the power of her lover’s thick cocks. His own cock had no power, no ability to satisfy her. Soft and impotent since the hunting accident, it was the constant target of her scorn. The only thing she let him do to her was spank her. She liked to be spanked. Sometimes she’d let him eat her out after he spanked her, but that hadn’t happened now in years. Now all she was willing to do, was masturbate in front of him with that giant black cock ordered from China. She’d pound it in and out of her pussy and tell him about her most recent fuck. Sam, didn’t even have the balls to walk over to her and squeeze her tits. He’d just sit there, on the chair by the bed and groan with pleasure as she cuckolded the fuck out of him.
    He took the security footage out of the player and made a decision. He shoved it under the desk and scooted it out of sight. If the kids said anything to anyone about the footage, he’d claim not to recall anything and act surprised that the video had been lost.
    He called for his wife, but she wasn’t around. Some of his friends still worked on cleanup.
    “You guys, go home – I’m not opening tonight. Maybe not for a few days. I’ve got this.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yeah – thanks, I’m sure.”
    Sam locked the bar and headed out. Florence’s car was gone. She’d be out screwing someone, he had no doubt. She come home afterwards and make him dinner. Then she’d tell him all about her latest fuck, and if maybe if he was lucky, she’d let him spank her.
     
     
    ~~*~~ 
    As soon as her husband took those nosey young people back to this office, Florence hurried backstage. After a moment of hunting, she found a plastic bag, stuffed behind a chair in the corner. Inside the bag, she found some clothes and a woman’s purse. She looked inside and opened the wallet. The ID showed the black women, the one who thought she was such hot shit, she didn’t need to use her real name on the form. What had she called herself? Bombshell?
    Florence stared at the name again. Why did that ring a bell? Then it hit her. The last time she’d seen Harold, he’d dropped by her house – not to give her a quickie, but to show her a picture of a black girl. He’d asked if Florence had seen her. Something about needing to ask her questions about some police business.
    Florence licked her lips, excited to have a reason to encourage Harold back into her bed. They’d had an amazing fling for several months, about a year ago - but then he’d lost interest in her.
    She gathered up the bag and headed back towards the front. Remembering that the young people were looking for their friends things – she made the bag smaller in her arms and turned her body so they wouldn’t see what she was carrying.
    But as she approached the partially opened door to Sam’s office, she heard something that made her stop in her tracks.
    “That’s the sheriff pointing a gun. You’ve got it on tape!” She recognized the faggot’s voice. She needed to warn Harold.
    She’d hurried past them unnoticed and almost ran to her car, anticipation coursing through her body. She stashed the women’s thing in her trunk, then drove out of the lot. Away from the bar, she pulled into a turn out and slowed to a stop.
    She called Harold.
    “What?” he said, he sounded annoyed.
    “I’ve got something important to tell you about that woman you were looking for, and I wanted to warn you about what happened at the bar last night.”
    “Can you meet me, in an hour?”
    “Yes,” she said, breathlessly.
    “Good, I’ll send you the text.”
    “Where is it?”
    “Out of town a bit. Oh, and Florence, wear something special for me – alright.”
    “Yes, Harold.”
    Thrilled beyond measure, Florence sped home to her house in the heart of Misty Falls. She showered and shaved then dressed in an outfit, she was sure he’d enjoy. She switched cars, opting