A Warm Thanksgiving

By: Victoria Bleu

“Getchall sorry ass up from this table, nigga!” Tony hollered, slamming his winning spade down like he was cashing a check. The card table wobbled in the corner of his living room—right next to the half-decorated bookshelf and the good lamp nobody was allowed to touch—while his mom and aunties turned his kitchen into a whole soul-food symphony. Pots clanking, grease popping, Aretha playing somewhere under all the talking, laughing, arguing… it was Thanksgiving!

Tony had the spades table on lock in his brand-new home, the one with the calm pond view that made him feel like he finally had grown-man money. Bachelor pad or not, today it was the family house, the memory-making house, the everybody-put-their-coats-in-the-back-room house. And Tony was feeling himself. He wasn’t about to lose on his own damn turf.

“Girl, your cousin Tony swear he's the king of spades,” Jirah said, cracking up as she leaned into CeCe.

Tony stood up slow, savoring his victory. “Jirah, any time you want this work, just say the word! I’m tired of beatin’ on these niggas anyway. Me and my potna takin’ a break. Let us know when the real spades players sit down!”

Jirah and CeCe burst out laughing.

“Oh shit, I ain’t even know he heard me!”

“You know Tony can hear forty miles away,” CeCe said, shaking her head.

“Damn right, cuz!” Tony shot back, grinning before heading through the sliding glass door.

He walked out to the patio like a man with a purpose—grill tongs in hand, smoke curling up from the ribs like they were on a set of a commercial. After flipping the meat and brushing on more sauce than necessary, he came back inside… and locked eyes with Jirah. He hit her with that smile—the smile—beautiful, dangerous, charming… the type of smile that made you forget what you were supposed to be doing.

“Tony, give me a tour of the house,” Jirah said, brushing her braids over her shoulder. “Congratulations again.”

“Preciate it. Yeah, come on.” He walked over, offering his hand to help her up from his thirty-inch dark-brown leather sectional—the kind that swallowed you whole if you sat down wrong. CeCe been to her favorite cousin’s house a million times already. She immediately sank into the comfy couch and surfed from social media app to social media app as her bestie got a house tour.

Jirah and Tony started toward the front of the house, weaving through kids, toys, and one baby walker that clearly had no business being in the middle of the walkway. Laughing and dodging obstacles, they finally made it to the foyer.

Ding-dong. The doorbell sounded like it had an attitude.

Tony opened the left side of his oak-colored French doors and in stepped a tall, brown-skinned man.

“Cuzzzz! Congrats, man!” Dre said, pulling Tony in for a hand slap, shoulder bump, half-hug.

“Thank you, thank you,” Tony grinned. “This is Jirah. Jirah, this my cousin Dre and his wife, Sabrina.”

“Hi, nice to meet you two,” Jirah said warmly.

Sabrina stepped in closer, her eyes doing a full elevator ride from Jirah’s braids to her heels. Jirah couldn’t tell if sis was admiring her, sizing her up, or simply wondering if Jirah was here for Dre’s community-dick havin’ ass. Either way, the stare was loud.

“Hi, Jirah,” Sabrina said, smirking just a little too long. “The pleasure is all mine.”

Sabrina was undeniably bad. Short, stacked, and shaped like she had been poured into her clothes on purpose. Jet-black pixie cut, skin smooth like cocoa butter on fresh legs, round face soft enough to make anybody blink twice. The streets could never figure out why Dre stayed cheating on her—honestly, she was a solid ten without trying.

“Go ahead and get comfortable,” Tony said to Dre and Sabrina as he slid an arm around Jirah’s waist—subtle but intentional; he could sense Jirah was uncomfortable so it was just enough to put space between the women. “I’m givin’ Jirah a tour. We’ll be back down in a minute."

“Fasho, cuz!” Dre grinned. “Let me go hug my auntie and sneak one of her pies before she cut my damn hands off.”

Everyone laughed.

“Yeah, you go do that,” Tony said. “I’m takin’ my ass upstairs so I ain’t a witness to your murder.”

As Dre and Sabrina started down the hall, Sabrina glanced over her shoulder—one more lingering smirk aimed straight at Jirah. A slow, knowing look that made Jirah’s eyebrow jump.

Tony and Jirah hit the stairs, walking side-by-side like friends but close enough for his hand to graze her back. Once they reached the landing, Jirah’s patience snapped.

“Did you see that? What the fuck was that?” she whispered sharply.

“Oh, I saw it,” Tony said, low and casual. “She gon’ try to shoot her shot before the night’s over.”

“But she’s married to Dre!” Jirah hissed. “How she eye-fuckin’ me like that?”

Tony snorted. “’Cause they got an open marriage. Everybody think Dre a dog-ass nigga, but really? They both doin’ their thing. His mess just comes out more ’cause the chicks he smash be thinkin’ they hurtin’ Sabrina… but baby girl be busy herself.”

Jirah’s eyes widened. “Damn. I really thought he was a fuck-nigga. This explains so much. But why would she agree to all that?”

“She didn’t ‘agree.’ It was her idea,” Tony corrected. “She love Dre, but she love fucking women too. She just makes sure the women ain’t messy. You just—” he paused, giving her a look—“you just make sure she don’t try to fuck you.”

“And why can’t she fuck me?” Jirah challenged, crossing her arms.

Tony’s voice dropped to that tone—the one only she got to hear. “Watch out. You know who you belong to.”

He opened the laundry room door, pulled her inside, and shut it behind them. Before Jirah could get another smart word out, Tony picked her up and set her on top of the counter top—claiming his spot, claiming his woman, hidden right in the middle of Thanksgiving chaos.

Laughter filled the laundry room.

“Tonnyyyy…” Jirah sang, her voice playful.

Tony grinned against her neck.

“What are you doing?” she giggled, trying—failing—to sound innocent.

“Shit,” he murmured between slow kisses down her jaw, “apparently I need to mark my territory. There’s a whole lioness downstairs preyin’ on my woman.”

Jirah laughed, breath catching as his lips found her collarbone.

“Speaking of…” Tony lifted his head, eyes serious now, thumb brushing her waist. “I think it’s time we tell CeCe about us. We been together six months, baby. I got you here with my family on Thanksgiving. This our first holiday as a couple, and we still hidin’ like we sneakin’ out after curfew or some shit.”

Jirah groaned. “Ugh, I know. But you know how CeCe get when her friends date her people. I just don’t feel like hearin’ her mouth. She’ll swear I 'violated the code' or some dumb shit.”

“I get it. I do.” Tony cupped her face gently. “But we’re exclusive now. Keeping it quiet was cool when we were figuring things out. But we ain’t guessing anymore—we know.”

Her lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “Come here.”

Tony stepped deeper between her thighs, hands sliding up the back of her legs as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She brushed her tongue across his lips—soft, teasing, deliberate.

“You know…” she whispered, eyes sparkling, “we’ve christened every inch of your house except this laundry room.”

Tony chuckled, hands squeezing her hips. “That’s ’cause I finally finished installing these cabinets your fine ass sittin’ on. I was working all morning while you were in bed snoring.”

“I do not snore,” Jirah protested, poking his shoulder.

Tony smirked. “I know exactly what sounds you make.”

His hand slipped down underneath her skirt, thumb circling her clit through her panties, the other gripping her thigh firmly. Her breath hitched, her body arching into him as the door clicked softly behind them—two people hiding everything from the world, except each other.

“Babyyyy…” Jirah moaned, voice trembling.

She scooted to the very edge of the counter, offering herself to him—open, ready, wanting. Her skirt rode up her thighs as she spread wider, her breath catching as Tony dropped to his knees like he was worshipping something sacred.

He lifted her skirt higher, pulled her panties down, allowing them to fall on the floor. his hands slid up her warm thighs, and then—His tongue.Thick. Hot. Hungry.

He dragged his tongue from the top of her clit down to the slick opening between her folds, slow and deliberate like he was tasting dessert before dinner.

Jirah’s head fell back with a sharp gasp.“Mmmmmm… Tony, yes…”

He pushed his tongue inside her, fucking her with it—deep, steady strokes that had her inching closer and closer to the edge of the counter. Soon the bottom of her ass was practically resting on his Adam’s apple, and she didn’t give a damn.

Her hips started to roll—slow, sensual circles matching the rhythm of his tongue. One hand wrapped in his waves, tugging, guiding, grinding herself onto every stroke he gave her. Her body demanded more, screamed for it, thrived on it.

Tony pulled back just long enough to seal his lips around her pussy, sucking her like she was a honey dripper flipped upside down on a scorching summer day. Loud. Messy. Intentional.

Jirah lost herself.

She pulled a breast out of her top, squeezing the soft mound, rolling her nipple as her hips rocked into his mouth.

“Shiiitttt… Tony! You eat my pussy so good!” she whined, voice cracking under the pressure of pleasure.

Then—Knock Knock Knock the sound shattered the moment.

Tony jerked up. Jirah damn near fell off the counter.

Panic hit them both like a bucket of cold water.

Tony yanked the door open without thinking, still wiping his mouth. And there stood Sabrina. Smirking. Knowing. Hungry.

Her eyes immediately dropped past Tony… right to Jirah’s exposed areola.

Tony whipped around—saw her titty out—eyes went wide as hell. He tried to slam the door but Sabrina slid her foot right into the frame like she lived there.

Jirah’s face flushed as she shoved her breast back into her top, avoiding Sabrina’s stare that lingered way too long.

“Your mom needs a case of soda,” Sabrina said, eyes never leaving Jirah. Her smile slithered across her lips. “Uncle Ray left them.”

“Aight! We coming,” Tony said quickly, trying to close the door.

But Sabrina leaned sideways one last time.“Jirah… if you need help with anything—and I mean anything—let me know.”

Jirah’s mouth fell open. She shot Tony a what the entire fuck look.

“She good, Sabrina!” Tony snapped.

“Yeah—thanks, girl!” Jirah added, forcing a sweet tone. “We’re headed out to get the sodas.”

Finally, the door shut.

Moments later, Tony and Jirah hurried downstairs, not making eye contact with a single soul, and headed straight toward the garage.

“Going to get the sodas!” Tony called out into the house like nothing absolutely wild had just happened behind a laundry room door.

There was so much commotion inside—Tony doubted anybody heard a damn thing. His cousins were back on the spades table talking loud and reckless. CeCe and the aunties were dancing in a soul-food-induced trance, belting out old-school R&B like they were headlining Essence Fest. Kids were sprinting in and out of rooms like their feet were on fire. His mom and grandmother were in the kitchen conducting Thanksgiving orchestras—opening ovens, closing them, tasting things, fussing at people.

And then there was Jirah—her tiny, perfect booty bouncing ahead of him as she sprinted toward the garage, mortified and turned on at the same time.

Tony knew she was embarrassed. She never got in the car without waiting for him to open the door. But not tonight—tonight she flew into the passenger seat like the car was about to pull off without her.

He barely shut the driver’s door before Jirah climbed into his lap, pussy watering, eyes wild.

“Let’s finish what she interrupted,” she whispered, kissing him hard.

Jirah snatched a condom from the console, pushed the seat back, and Tony’s pants were down before the door even clicked closed. She rolled the condom on him with practiced, hungry hands.

Seconds later he was buried deep—all the way—inside her warm, dripping pussy.

Her hips rotated over him in slow, perfect circles. Tony groaned, grabbing her ass in both hands, guiding her rhythm as he squeezed her cheeks like they were made for his palms. Jirah braced on his shoulders, riding him like the night owed her something.

She leaned in to kiss him—but the pleasure hit too hard. Her teeth nipped his lip as her cream slid down his shaft, hot and thick.

Tony’s head dropped back. Soft ass in his hands. Warmth milking him. Her lips trembling against his.

He wasn’t even sure if he was conscious anymore.

The Wrangler’s interior filled with nothing but fog, slick sounds, and breathy moans.

When her pussy started squeezing in uncontrollable pulses, Tony lost all sense of restraint. He gripped her waist and bounced her on him—fast, short, hungry strokes that set her whole body shaking.

Jirah collapsed onto his chest, clutching him like she was about to levitate. Her breasts pressed into him, her breath hot on his neck as Tony fucked her like he was carving his name into her soul.

She leaned back suddenly—giving him a new angle, a new slide, a new heaven.Tony met her movement, lifting his hips and holding her by the small of her back.

“JIRAH—DAMN! BABY THIS FEEL SO FUCKIN’ GOOD!” he growled.

Jirah screamed, “TONYYYYY! RIGHT THERE!”

“Bae—stop squeezin’—I’m finna bust,” Tony begged.

“I CAN’T—BABYYYY—” Jirah whined, body trembling.

He slammed up into her harder—faster—deeper—in and out, in and out, in and out—no space, no mercy, no air left between them.

“SHIT! JIRAH!” Tony shouted, giving one last brutal thrust—and they exploded together.

Her scream tore out of her. His body jerked upward.Their climax hit like a damn earthquake

—and that’s when it happened.

HOOOOOOONNNNNK!

A deafening blast of the horn ripped through the garage. Neither noticed until the garage door sensors lit up, flooding the car with a burst of white light—just in time for the entire family to storm out.

They both froze.Tony’s eyes snapped open.Jirah’s head whipped toward the windshield, hair sticking to her sweaty cheek.

Tony’s mom rushed to the passenger side, tugging the handle.Thank God Tony was fast enough to hit the lock.

“My Baby! Tony? Are you ok?!” His mom yelled.

Foggy windows. Steamy air.The horn blaring like they were calling 911.

Tony panicked but kept his voice steady––yelling through window he refused to let down, “Yeah, Ma! We—we about to head to the store!”

“Boy you scared the mess outta me layin’ on that horn like that!” she fussed.

Before Tony could respond, CeCe stepped forward, squinting, wiping condensation off the fogged windshield with her sleeve. The second her eyes adjusted—she realized the shape of Jirah straddling Tony—her whole face dropped into slow-motion shock.

“Now wait… WAIT A DAMN MINUTE!” CeCe yelled, walking towards the car. “Is that—TONY—AND JIRAH—IN—THE—CAR—?!”

The aunties gasped. The cousins hollered. The kids giggled and everyone turned around to walk into the home.

How embarrassing.

Jirah shifted off of Tony just as he finished taking the condom off and pulling up his pants. Watching the crowd drift back into the house, Jirah cracked her window for a bit of air. That’s when she noticed Sabrina.

Standing off to the side of the garage. Hands crossed. Leaning against the wall. Head tilted. Smirking. Like she’d been watching. For a while. Long enough to know exactly what they were doing.

Her eyes met Jirah’s over the slightly rolled down window.

Sabrina mouthed: “I DM'ed you—call me!” right before she turned around to walk back into the home.

And that’s when Jirah’s soul left her body.

vibrate

*Text from Cece*

“Bitch you fucking my cousin?”

Until The Next Spill,

Victoria Bleu