Nick
I decrease my aperture and increase my shutter speed as I line my viewfinder up with my right eye. The trees are flocked with snow, the juxtaposition of the dark green creating the most beautiful contrast in the glaring afternoon sun.
We turn into the Christmas Tree Farm just outside of Crescent Bay.
When we file out of the van, there are cars with license plates from Virginia, Maryland, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania.
I can see why — the place is huge. The farm seems to go on for acres, and there’s a barn that’s been converted into a restaurant and bar just off the side.
Sat between two enormous, decked-out Christmas trees is a man dressed as Santa taking pictures with children.
Michael Bublé’s rich voice croons about a holly jolly Christmas through speakers I can’t see.
The holiday spirit burns inside me. I look over at Krystal, angelic in her white turtleneck and leather miniskirt.
Her legs are swaddled in thick fleece leggings, and I frown a smile at her high-heeled boots.
“Are you going to be comfortable on this scavenger hunt?” I ask, waving the flyer Gayle passed out while we were on the shuttle over here.
She raises a curious brow at me. “Presumptuous of you to assume I planned to participate.”
“Hmm,” I hum. “What were you planning to do here?”
Her shoulders rise and fall with an apathetic shrug.
I could have sworn she was warming up to the holidays. There’s no excitement in her eyes, no wonder in her voice. I power my camera down and let it swing by my side as I turn my body towards her. She instinctively leans towards me, and I bite back the smile threatening my mouth at this observation.
“I was gonna take a couple cute selfies, then go get a hot toddy at the bar,” she explains, nodding her head towards the barn with an invitation sparkling in her eyes. I sigh, dissatisfied with the image of her sitting alone by the bar while the rest of us go on this scavenger hunt.
“What if I add an extra prize?” I suggest.
“Go on,” she hums.
The corner of my mouth turns up in a smile.
“What if,” I say, resting my hand on her hip and pulling her body flush against mine.
Her hands slide into her back pockets, her pulse flutters under the heat of my gaze.
I dip my chin so I can whisper in her ear.
“What if for every item you find, I owe you an orgasm?”
Her face flushes with a rosy blush as she blinks up at me.
“Do you think you can deliver?” She asks.
“Snowflake,” I chuckle, “the question is, can you?”
With a sly smirk crawling across her face, she snatches the list of items to find out of my hands. There are things like a pinecone, mistletoe, and tinsel listed. I cast a look over her head at the bar, wondering if I should get myself a redbull or something for the night ahead of me.
We head toward the rest of the group, just catching the tail end of Gayle’s instruction to meet back up at this spot in an hour and thirty minutes.
“Okay, everyone! Have a ball! Remember, the bar is open for all Emerson B&B guests, just show them your flyer and you should be good to go!” The crowd disperses in a flurry of eagerness.
When Krystal walks by me, I hook an arm around her waist and kiss her on the top of her head. “See you in an hour and a half, Snowflake,” I say, inhaling the bubbly scent of her perfume.
She snorts, slapping a playful hand against my chest and pushing me away.
“You’re cheating!” She exclaims, wagging a warning finger at me as she struts away.
Her hips sway artfully as she walks. The soft ground seems like tile under her stiletto heel.
I make quick work of getting my camera ready and bringing the frame to my vision.
Zooming in, I catch the sunlight bouncing off the flyaways of her hair.
I snap once, already pleased with the outcome, when she turns, offering me a sultry look over her shoulder.
My jaw slackens as I watch, hypnotized by the molten look in her eyes.
Saliva fills my mouth as I stand there, transfixed. I almost forget to trigger my shutter.
Almost.
Immediately after the lens closes, I hit the playback button to look at the picture. Everything about it is perfect. Her hair dancing in the sunlight, the shadow on her face being the perfect brightness for my exposure, the glint that sparkles in her eye.
This one is getting framed for sure.
I step into the forest of trees, looking for more moments to photograph.
I get the hands of two little ones dragging across a tree as they chase each other. A couple, kissing, perfectly framed by the branches of two trees touching. Then, footprints in the snow that start with a pair and end solo.
“Following me, Santa?” Krystal’s voice startles me. Goosebumps rise under my knit turtleneck when I turn to face her. She holds a singular pine cone and nothing else. My face lifts with a bright smile.
“I think we’ll always be bound to meet again,” I say, stepping into her space.
She gasps when I pull her against me, this time, not concealing the bulge between my legs.
Her arms skate around my shoulders when she pulls me in for a kiss.
I groan against the feel of her, kissing her deeply as my hands slide down her back.
I’m not the touchy type, but I can’t seem to get enough of her.
My touch craves the feel of her skin, my hands yearn to be overwhelmed by all her soft curves.
Her tongue slips into my mouth, feathering mine as she moans greedily.
I consider how long it must have been for her since the last time she was touched like this, kissed like this — and how lucky I am to be the one knighted with the honor.
When we separate, her red lipstick is blurred around her mouth. “Oh,” she chuckles, cupping my cheeks and rubbing the transfer from my face. Then, after wiping the edges of her mouth, rubbing her fingers together to get rid of the stain on her palms, she backs away.
Promise and mischief swim behind her amber eyes.
“You’re distracting me,” she accuses, waving her pine cone back and forth. “No more cheating,” she laughs.