All You Can Handle (Moments In Maplesville Book 5)

by Farrah Rochon

  She hopped up from the sofa and got in this face. “I did not spill that nail polish on your stupid Chevy. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

  “When I came home from tutoring, my car was fine. You walk through the door and, ten minutes later, the car is covered in bright pink nail polish. We don’t need a CSI team to figure that one out.”

  “That ugly ass car needed a paint job, but I didn’t give it one.”

  “Oh, my God, would you two please stop?” Kiera screeched. “What is it with the two of you? You’ve been this way since high school.”

  “He’s the one who starts with me,” Jada accused, pointing her slim finger at his chest. Her own chest rose and fell with her labored breaths, pulling her fitted T-shirt taut across her breasts. As it had been way too often during their legendary arguments over the years, Mason had an overpowering urge to pull her against him and kiss the rest of the breath from her lungs.

  Instead, as always, he took several steps back, giving himself some much-needed distance.

  Kiera’s cell phone rang, creating a fissure in the thick tension hovering over the room.

  “Oh, it’s my building’s management office. Let’s hope my place is okay.” She answered the phone, but seconds later said, “Can you wait just a minute. The service here is spotty.” Covering the mouthpiece, she hissed, “Why’d you have to build a house so far away from a dang cell phone tower?” as she headed for the front door.

  Mason turned his attention from his sister’s retreating back to find Jada giving him the evil eye again.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Forget it. Not worth it,” she said before returning to her spot on the sofa.

  Mason blew out a tired breath and headed for his room. He went straight to his walk-in closet, which was bigger than the combined bedroom and bathroom in the modest starter home he’d lived in for years before finally building this house.

  He shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it in the closet, then toed off his Tom Ford loafers, not bothering to put in the shoe trees. He’d probably wear these tomorrow.

  There was a knock on the door to his master suite.

  “Come in,” Mason called. Kiera entered the room, and Mason could tell by her dour expression that she didn’t come bearing good news. “Let me guess. Your entire condo was built using Chinese drywall.”

  “Every single inch,” Kiera confirmed.

  Mason shrugged. “It could be worse. You could also have termites.”

  “If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re failing,” his sister said. “Are you okay with me having an extended stay?”

  “Yes, Kiera.” It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Ask me again and I’m putting you out on your ass.”

  She laughed as she wrapped him up in a hug.

  Mason would never admit it to her, but he’d pumped a triumphant fist in the air when Kiera had called this morning asking if she could stay at his place. It had been such a long time since she’d come right out and asked him for anything. He’d spent a fair portion of his adolescence and adulthood taking care of his sister; he missed her needing him.

  “Oh, there’s one other thing,” Kiera said. “I was supposed to host a party at my place next weekend.” She put both hands up, as if expecting him to protest. “It’s nothing big. About ten or so women, and only for a few hours.”

  “Fine,” Mason said.

  “Great!” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “We were afraid we’d have to hold it at Jada’s. Her place is so tiny you can hardly move around in there.”

  Mason almost added the caveat that Jada couldn’t attend, but he didn’t have the energy to be that petty. He just knew that he would have to stay the hell away if she was going to be there. Not that he had any desire to hang around with his baby sister and a group of her friends, but he sure as hell didn’t want to hang around that particular friend. The woman got off on rubbing him the wrong way.

  Kiera’s cell phone rang again.

  “Why are you so popular today?” Mason asked.

  She looked at the screen and scrunched up her nose. “I need to take this.” She gave him another peck on the cheek, and said, “Thanks again,” before leaving the room.

  Mason unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves up on his shirt. After sliding his feet into his L.B. Evans slippers, he went to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, smiling at the chopped peppers, onions and other ingredients for Kiera’s pasta, portioned in plastic baggies. Apparently, he was that predictable.

  Sipping from his water bottle, Mason spotted the usually bare dining room table through the arched doorway that led from the kitchen. It was cluttered with boxes and packages. He went into the dining room and frowned as his eyes roamed over the collection of items strewn about the table.

  He picked up a lavender box, his eyes widening in horrified surprise as he inspected the package.

  “G-Swirl Vibrator?”

  Mason marched into the living room and held the box up to Jada. “What in the hell is this?”

  Jada looked up from the legal pad she was scribbling on—one of his legal pads—and peered at the box.

  Like a saleswoman imparting the qualities of a new and improved product, she said, “This is the G-Swirl Vibrator, praised for its ability to elicit powerful orgasms quickly and effectively by stimulating a woman’s G-Spot.”

  Mason choked back the instant rush of lust that lodged in his throat. Her matter-of-fact recitation had turned him on way more than it should have.

  “I know what a vibrator is,” he bit out. “What is it and the rest of that stuff doing on my dining room table?”

  “It’s for Kiera’s party.”

  “What the hell kind of party is Kiera having?”

  Releasing an exaggeratedly loud breath, Jada pushed herself up from the sofa and plucked the purple package from his fingers. “You may want to put this back,” she said. “You break it, you buy it; and I doubt you’re ready to handle something like this.”

  Mason followed her into the dining room where she set the vibrator on the table. Gliding her fingers along the collection of erotic toys, she picked up a box containing a silver egg-shaped device and held it out to him.

  “You may want to start with this. It’s popular with both males and females for stimulation of the erogenous zones. There is also an array of oils and gels designed to heighten sexual pleasure.”

  It took some effort for Mason to swallow as she went from one product to the next, her voice dropping to a sultry purr as she expounded on the benefits of each toy. Knowing Jada, the sole purpose of her little presentation was to make him uncomfortable. She’d succeeded, but Mason doubted she knew just what part of him in particular she was making uncomfortable.

  “This, of course, is just an overview of what’s available. If you’re interested in products for a specific purpose, I’m sure we can find something that will work.” She picked up a bright blue dildo and strolled over to him. With a decidedly wicked smile, she said, “Just so you’ll know, personal demonstrations are extra.”

  Mason’s entire being was immediately overwhelmed with a barrage of heat. He willed his body to fight the onslaught of arousal that rushed through him.

  Folding his arms over his chest, he drilled her with a hostile look. “Why are you hell-bent on corrupting my baby sister?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Mason.” Gone was the seductive lithe to her voice. It had been replaced with familiar ire. “You do realize your baby sister isn’t a baby anymore, right? Brace yourself, but she isn’t a virgin anymore either,” Jada shared in a mock whisper.

  He was in no mood to be mocked.

  “What kind of party is this, Jada?” Mason asked in a voice that brooked no further bullshit.

  She blew out another exasperated breath. “It’s called a Naughty Nights party. It’s not some orgy free-for-all, so lay off the crap about me corrupting Kiera. It’s just a group of women having drinks and learning about sex
ual enhancement products.”

  “And you’re the ring leader.”

  “I’m the sales consultant,” she corrected. “This may come as a shock to you, Mason, but some women actually like sex.” She wielded the dildo. “Maybe you should join us for the party. I’m sure your puritanical ass can use all the help you can get when it comes to the bedroom.”

  Mason stared at her for several moments before reaching over and pulling the sex toy from her slim fingers. Flipping it around, he said, “It goes this way. If you’re going to offer private demonstrations, you may want to learn how to use your products first.”

  He drained the remaining water from the bottle and left her standing in the middle of the dining room.

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  About the Author:

  A native of south Louisiana, Farrah Rochon officially began her writing career while waiting in between classes in the student lounge at Xavier University of Louisiana. After earning her Bachelors of Science degree and a Masters of Arts from Southeastern Louisiana University, Farrah decided to pursue her lifelong dream of becoming a published novelist. She was named Shades of Romance Magazine's Best New Author of 2007. Her debut novel garnered rave reviews, earning Farrah several SORMAG Readers' Choice Awards. I’ll Catch You, the second book in her New York Sabers series for Harlequin Kimani, was a 2012 RITA ® Award finalist. Yours Forever, the third book in her Bayou Dreams series, is a 2015 RITA® Award finalist.

  When she is not writing in her favorite coffee shop, Farrah spends most of her time reading her favorite romance novels or seeing as many Broadway shows as possible. An admitted sports fanatic, Farrah feeds her addiction to football by watching New Orleans Saints games on Sunday afternoons.