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  • Writer's pictureRegina Grimm

Just a Taste: Snow White and the Poisoned Apple, The Final Chapter

It's coming! It's finally coming! You've been waiting so patiently! And the wait is almost over! The final chapter in the Snow Series: Snow White and the Poisoned Apple is launching in paperback soon!

To think - in 2020, I picked up a pen (literally a pen) and started writing what - I thought - would be a real-world education on how to self-publish a novel - and just look what it has become! I am so thrilled with all my wonderful readers - sexy, sassy folks that you are! Thank you for your feedback, your support and your time. I know there are lots of hot and steamy, gritty and juicy reads out there, and I am honoured that you spent your time on mine.

Curious what you are in for? I've left a sneak peek below, along with the blurb and the trailer below, just for you.

Heads up - these books are intended for adult audiences - 18plus.

Looking to leave some feedback? I would love to hear from you! Leave a review on GoodReads, or Amazon, shoot me an email or connect with me on social media.




Once Upon a Time…

Deep in the forests, between the seven hills, lies a home twisted into the trees. Snow White, having narrowly escaped the Huntsman and her stepmother’s murderous plot discovered the home and is ready to meet the inhabitants.

Meet the seven thieves who vow to protect Snow and keep her safe while introducing her to boundless pleasure. After a lifetime of isolation and trauma, Snow tumbles eagerly into their open arms.

But the forest is not safe for our princess.

Her stepmother learns that her Huntsman has failed and sets out personally to destroy the only woman who threatens her title as the fairest in all the realm.

Can the seven thieves protect Snow White from the Wicked Queen? Will Snow fall victim to the Queen’s cunning?

Find out in Snow White and the Seven Thieves: Chapter 3

Snow White and the Poisoned Apple - Sneak Peek


A cruel wind lashed Snow White’s raven-wing hair across her face, biting at her cheeks. Snow shivered in the cold. Trees loomed all around, nearly blocking out the black clouds that rolled across the sky. Snow's heart beat hard in her chest, her breath tight and gasping. Her pupils pulled wide as the shadows pressed closer.

Snow White..." A hollow voice, rough and low, curled to her across the wind and Snow’s heart squeezed in her chest.

"Papa?" Her frozen lips struggled to form a sound.

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder, and Snow spun to face the looming shadow of the king. Her heart leapt at the sight of her father's face, even as still and stoic as it was.

"Don't look, girl..." A whisper in her brain urged her to turn away, but Snow could not tear her eyes from her father. She stood, still as death, staring wide-eyed as the weight of his hand crumbled into cinders and ash.

Snow’s mouth fell into a silent scream as she watched her father's face contort, his cheeks hollow, his eyes melt into dark viscera that rolled like tears of pure nightmare down his cheeks.

Terror and memory became one as his flesh dissolved into grey and black. Soot caught in the screaming wind, gnashing his meat from his bones until even his laughing skull collapsed upon itself, disappearing into the storm.

Snow's guts roiled and churned, her heart thundering in her chest.

"Snow White..."

Like a corpse, Snow turned toward the golden whisper, her heart tripping in her chest. The echo of an old warning cut through the fog of terror in her mind. “Run!”

The luminous face of her stepmother, the Queen, blocked out the rest of the world. "Tisk tisk little princess." The Queen's melodious voice slid across Snow’s skin like oil. “You killed your father, naughty girl."

Snow glanced down and watched as the Queen bound her wrists together with a thick length of red ribbon that snapped in the wind before it bit tightly into Snow’s skin. The Queen's tapered fingers tied a pretty bow over the twisting bindings and then gently took Snow’s aching hands in hers.

"Little whore with your seven thieves. I will carve that pretty smile from your lips and feed it to the crows." The Queen lifted Snow’s hands high above her head. When her arms blocked Snow's view, the world shifted and spun. The screaming wind stopped, and the icy bite of the storm eased, and Snow found herself in the garden before the thieves' tree house. Where the Queen had been moments before, a young woman stood, peering at Snow from behind warm chocolate eyes.

"I know you,” Snow whispered, her lips not moving. Snow’s heart thawed as her eyes skipped over the woman's round cheeks, the light sprinkle of freckles across her nose and the tops of her full breasts.

Snow glanced down, and her eyes fell over her own skin, bare and fully exposed before this gently smiling woman. Her nipples tightened as the soft cool air slid across them. She watched the woman reach forward, her fingers smoothing the dark curls between Snow’s thighs before parting her already soaking lips and pressing deep inside.

Snow moaned loud and long, pushing her hips forward, accepting and demanding more from the women's practiced touch. Her breasts thrust forward, her arms raised high on either side of her face, Snow strained against the tight bite of ribbon still imprisoning her wrists.

The woman’s face shifted as she continued to plunge her fingers into Snow's trembling quim. Her eyes darkened, her mouth twisting in a cruel sneer as she pushed Snow closer to the edge.

Snow writhed against the woman's hand, desperate, as her entire world collapsed upon them, and Snow could see nothing but the shadows that watched from behind the woman's eyes.

Snow opened her lips to beg for more, the last touch, the last thrust that would hurl her into oblivion, but instead, the woman snatched her fingers from Snow’s core. Crying out in dismay, Snow’s pussy gasped around the emptiness that filled her.

The woman laughed, and a chill tripped down Snow’s spine. Then the woman pressed her fingers, wet with Snow’s juices, deep into Snow’s open mouth. Snow’s eyes snapped wide in surprise, then her lips closed over the slick skin, her tongue dancing over the musky honey.

Again, the woman snatched her hand away, leaving the hollow of Snow’s mouth to echo the empty ache between her legs.

“Pretty princess.” Her voice was a cold hiss.

Snow’s lids fluttered, and her eyes caught on the flash and glitter of an ornate hair comb. The twisted gold and web of jewels set off an avalanche of discomfort in Snow’s soul. The woman’s eyes were empty, as cold and hard as chips of onyx, as black and soulless as midnight.

“Pretty, pretty princess.”

Ice water dripped down Snow’s spine, doing nothing to stem her need.

The woman danced the comb before Snow’s eyes, letting the dappled light twinkle off its edges. Snow shivered as the woman dropped the comb’s teeth to Snow’s skin.

“A lovely gift for the beautiful princess.” The woman’s voice shifted, becoming low and sweet as lute music, so familiar it ached in the back of Snow’s mind. But then the woman started dragging the sharp needle teeth of the comb gently across Snow's chest, and Snow’s every thought left her. The edges of the teeth tickled and scraped, threatening and delicious at once.

The woman twisted the comb and brushed it across the curves of Snow’s breast, then lower to scrape against the aching tips of her nipples. Snow gasped as the blades prickled down her belly, then scraped through the curls on her core. Shuddering under the tender assault, Snow watched the intent in the woman’s eyes shine black and deadly, but her touch with the comb’s points was almost too tender against Snow’s swollen, aching folds.

The woman stepped back. Her chin came up, revealing a split in her pale skin where a seam of gold shone through. Snow stared at the golden skin beneath, and comprehension dawned. In the same heartbeat, the woman pulled back her arm and slashed Snow violently across the throat with the comb’s teeth. Watching the rich satisfaction crawl across the woman’s round face, her inky eyes crinkling at the corners, Snow’s mouth filled with the iron tang of blood.

“Be a good girl now, princess, and stay dead.”

Snow burbled and choked, her lungs filling with thick, red death.


With a gasp, Snow lurched up from bed, her hands scratching across her throat, her breathing harsh and strangled as her eyes shot blindly around the room.

“Hey, hey—” Olin’s olive skin and hazel eyes loomed before Snow’s wild gaze in the darkness. “Easy princess. Easy now.” His artistic hands closed over her wrists and tried to pull her scratching nails away from the already scored and red throat.

With the strength of pure terror, Snow yanked against him, gasping, “No, no. Please, no,” over and over as she scraped her nails again down her naked chest before Olin’s face darkened, and he tightened his grip, forcing her hands away from her throat.

“Ransford,” Olin snapped, his voice a mock whisper intending only to rouse the man sleeping on Snow’s other side. But his brother in arms was already awake, thick forearms, dusted with dark hair, clamping firmly around Snow’s rib cage, sliding against the undercurve of her breasts and locking her elbows against her sides.

“Shh, shh, precious. You are safe. We’ve got you.” Ransford’s deep voice rolled into her ear, his lips against flesh.

Snow fought on a moment more while Olin struggled to hold her hands away from her body.

Ransford pressed his lips against Snow’s throat, whispering promises as she gasped, “No. Comb, no,” her voice hoarse and fading.

Then, in the shadows of the night, naked in the heat between two strong, comforting thieves, her bright green eyes cleared. The shadows of lingering nightmares faded from her gaze.

“Olin?” Snow choked, her fingers closing over his.

“Yes, Snow. I’m here. We’ve got you.”

Snow turned her head slightly, pressing her cheek to Ransford’s short dark hair as his lips slid against her shoulder. His hold around her ribs softened slightly.

“You’re safe.”

Snow shuddered in their arms. “I wasn’t safe.” She blinked, and twin tears glittered down her white cheeks. “I was bound. I was frozen. I was slashed with the comb. The comb you pulled from my hair. I saw her.” Snow’s voice was hard as bedrock, betraying the terror that turned a sliver of her soul to stone.

Ransford pulled back. “You remember what happened? You remembered the attack?” His voice was low and sharp, his speckled blue eyes flashing in the shadows.

“No.” Snow's voice was an echo, but two more tears overflowed her eyes and followed the trails of the first, down her throat and between her bare breasts. “I saw her face, I think, but my dream was all wrong. She took the blades of the comb to my throat, not my hair. And her skin—” Snow stuttered to a stop, the dream sliding through her fingers like fog. “Her skin was splitting, falling away. There was gold underneath—” But the image was gone, leaving only a hollow ache in the icy chill that had settled around Snow’s heart.

Ransford kissed her shoulder. “It was just a dream, princess. Just a dream. You are safe now. The person who tried to hurt you thinks they succeeded. They left your cold body on the grass, remember? We’ve got you. You don’t have to worry anymore.” He kissed her again, slowly, gently, his lips lingering against her chilled flesh until her tight breath came out in a sigh.

Olin pressed his lips to Snow’s frosty fingertips, caressing the angry red marks he had left around her wrists, whispering his apologies and feeling the skin warm slightly under his touch.

After a long while and hundreds of careful, soothing kisses, Snow’s posture thawed, her tense shoulders dropping as she slumped back against the hot wall of Ransford’s chest. Her hands opened and slid along Olin’s jaw and into the long unruly waves at the back of his head. Her skin was a sea of gooseflesh under the hot stroke of their combined breath.

“Like ice,” Olin murmured as he pressed his lips against the inside of her elbow before Snow tugged him closer.

Ransford released his hold on Snow’s ribs, smoothing his calloused hands across the quickly warming skin of her hips and stomach. “Oh, yes. Frozen little bird.”

A low chuckle fell from his full lips as Snow’s skin heated further under his hands. Snow whimpered as her eyes fluttered shut. She tightened her grip on Olin’s hair and pulled his mouth to her breast. He leaned in, sucking eagerly on her nipple until Snow cried out under the pull and tug on her tender flesh. Those graceful, talented hands slid up her legs, his touch tender and thrilling all at once.

When his palms skimmed over the satin flesh of her thighs, he knelt closer, holding her open with his own wide-spread knees. Snow whimpered. Olin pulled away from her breast, pausing only to stroke the hot, wet swollen tip with his tongue before moving to the other breast, and pulling it into his mouth.

Snow cried out, and Ransford slid one rough hand over her mouth, pressing her head gently back against his shoulder. His voice was bright and sharp with lust when he whispered into the pink shell of her ear, “Quiet now, little bird. If you wake the others, they will want to share you.”

Snow moaned against his hand, and he nipped sharply at her ear. His other hand slid between her legs, fisting the curls there and tugging them firmly. “What did I just say?” he snarled, but Snow could hear the hot laughter in his words.

His hold on her mouth tightened as he pressed scorching kisses against her throat and parted her wet and swollen lips with his fingers. Snow gasped when he found her swollen pip and stroked it gently.

His fingers delved deeper sliding through the wetness pooling between her legs. His breath was hot and urgent against her ear. “Look how ready you are for me, princess.”

Snow’s mouth fell open behind his hand as his other arm snaked around her waist and lifted her against his chest.

Olin sighed against her skin and held her knees wider as Ransford shifted his thick cock against her entrance and filled her completely from behind. Hands falling back to cup Ransford’s lean hips, Snow shuddered as he guided himself in and out of her core. The girth of his cock stretched her wide, then eased completely free as her nails dug into him, urging him on. Behind his hand, she gasped and moaned, his firm grip at once confining and deliciously exciting.

As she rocked up and down on Ransford’s cock, Olin sucked hard at her nipple, sending long shudders down through Snow’s clenching core as she spiralled towards tantalizing release. With a loud pop, Olin’s mouth came free, leaving both nipples tender, swollen and as red as rose petals. Then his short dark goatee ticked its way down her ribs, her stomach, passed her naval before he pressed a scorching open-mouthed kiss to Snow’s pubis. Snow trembled as he blew a breath across the swollen, slick skin wrapped around Ransford’s cock, then his tongue darted out and stroked the aching bud of pleasure pulsing between her lips. His mouth was upon her, in earnest, wrapped around her clit, his calloused fingers spreading her wide.

Snow went rigid as he pulled the swollen pearl into his mouth and alternated between sucking and humming. Ransford drove his cock home as Olin’s mouth tipped Snow into the abyss, and she cried out against Ransford’s hand, her nails digging into his hips as he followed her clenching pussy over the edge with a grunt.

As Snow relaxed, Olin finally pulled back, his lips shining with her passion and Snow tumbled forward into his arms.

“You have such a talented tongue,” Snow murmured, her nerves still singing with her release. Olin watched her from under dark lashes.

“Your body is an instrument I want to learn to play.” He sucked his full bottom lip between his front teeth and admired her flushed face as one might admire a painting. Snow sighed, the lethargy of her sexual satisfaction ebbing slightly as Ransford lay back down, his eyelids heavy, one arm tucked under his head.

Then Olin raised his hands, and Snow turned her full attention to him. His fingertips stroked Snow’s temples, and she relaxed into his touch. He drew tiny swirls across her cheeks, then traced her lips, her throat, and her shoulders. As his fingers danced across her skin, like a sculptor exploring his sculpture, Snow’s eyes twinkled mischievously.

Sliding slightly up Olin’s chest, Snow found the head of his hard cock and positioned it carefully against her centre, then slid slowly down, taking him completely with the same slow exploration, mirroring his fingers.

Biting his lip, Olin continued his careful study of her body. Snow set their pace, rising and falling on his cock, as slow and sweet as the tide.

“Bend forward, beauty,” Olin whispered, and Snow complied, gasping slightly as his angle inside her shifted, nudging new, intense depths. Olin’s hand reached around to explore her back, the curves of her hips, her ass and thighs, then he flatted one palm between her breasts and pushed her gently back up so his fingers could play across her breasts and belly.

“I want to hear you.” Olin’s eyes were twin opals, dark and glittering behind half-open lids. Cheeks burning, Snow released a soft moan as his fingers stroked the heated skin between her legs. He moved deeper, and she stretched around him. “Let them hear the music you make.”

Snow whimpered and shook, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Look at me,” Olin commanded softly, and Snow struggled to comply. “Don’t close your eyes. I want to watch you finish.”

Shifting the pace, Snow gasped when the head of Olin’s rod pressed against something urgent inside her. Soft mewling noises slipped from her lips as she rose and fell above him. His fingers slid through her juices, discovering every hidden inch between her thighs.

She gasped and sighed, pleasure mounting as his fingers circled closer to the white-hot point at her centre. Snow’s hands crept up her own sides, fingers tracing the invisible trails his touch hand carved into her skin. Eyelashes fluttering, Snow cupped her breasts in her palms. Running her thumbs over her own nipples, Snow purred as Olin’s eyes darkened and his jaw worked.

Trembling pleasure arched higher, and Snow chased it, her breathing, her sighs, her moans filling the air. Olin bit his lip again, his pulse racing visibly under the olive tan of his throat. Snow rolled her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, mimicking how her men had touched her, then fine-tuning the pressure. Olin’s eyes went hot as he watched her, his hips rising up to meet every measured fall of her body. Then he paired those artist thumbs over her clit and the skies shattered, and the world came apart at the edges. Snow cried out as she came, her core clamping convulsively down, milking his release from him with a shudder.

When Snow’s eyes came back into focus, Olin had collapsed back on the bed, his head cradled in his hands, his eyes soft and calm again.

Snow moved to slide his length free when her eyes snagged on Ransford’s. He was propped up on one elbow, cheek braced in one hand, his fascinating blue eyes snapping with heated laughter.

Snow froze, her cheeks flushing. Another wave of pleasure trembled through her, and she clamped down again on Olin’s slackening cock.

“She puts on quite a show, doesn't she, boys?” Ransford’s voice was warm, a rumble of laughter in his chest.

“I don't know how anyone is supposed to sleep with all that racket going on,” Lupin’s growl snapped Snow’s head to the side where she saw the gruff, half-wild man glaring hotly down at her, massive arms crossed over his scarred bare chest.

“She sings like a songbird.” Studs’ rumbling voice broke over Snow’s skin, and she turned to peer up into his cherubic face, so out of place atop his hulking form.

Kieon’s satin purr followed. “I’m really very proud of you two. Our little princess looks utterly satisfied.”

Snow trembled, and her core tightened.

“She doesn't look that satisfied,” Alcott huffed, and Snow craned her head to look at him, shifting against Olin, who sucked in a breath, his cock twitching back to life inside her.

“I think we should take her away before Olin gets his second wind.” Twin arms slid around Snow’s middle, lifting her off Olin’s cock and spinning her, so she hung face down over one broad shoulder. Snow squeaked, her face inches from a round pale ass cheek. Twisting her head, she peered up at the salt and pepper hair on the back of Belden’s head and laughed in surprise as he turned and walked her down the stairs.

Four of her thieves followed hotly as Snow’s mass of dark curls swept at the floor, her knees pressed tight against Belden’s broad chest.

“Put me down,” Snow chirped.

“No,” Belden growled, his free hand landing a few hot, soft slaps playfully across her bottom. Snow squealed and kicked her legs, but Belden held tight until he was standing in the middle of the wide fur rug.

Where was the man who had fainted upon seeing me naked for the first time?

Snow worried momentarily that she had desensitized him for good. Then all thoughts left her as Belden finally bent at the waist, setting Snow gently on her feet. Blood rushing from her head, Snow swayed before she caught her balance. Belden steadied her with a solid hand until she could stand on her own.

Stepping back, Belden left Snow in the middle of a small circle of men, five thieves standing so close she could feel their heat radiating off their naked bodies. Close enough that she could reach out and close her hand around any of the five hard, jutting cocks. Her body was soft and pliant from her recent orgasms, but the heated looks on their faces sped up her pulse and had her wanting again. The petals between her legs ached and swelled, pressing against each other and pulsing like a tiny heart between her thighs.

“Do you trust us?” Belden’s deep rumble rolled like rocks through her chest, and Snow turned dilated pupils towards him. The room held its breath as she considered the question a long moment.

“Yes,” she finally answered and knew as the sound rolled from her lips that she had never spoken a truer word. She felt them relax, every broad, strong shoulder dropping visibly. Belden stepped forward, jade green eyes slightly unfocused without his spectacles as he raised a long soft length of cloth. Snow frowned and stepped back slightly.

“Are you afraid?” Belden’s whisper caressed her lips, and Snow trembled, her skin hot and hungry to be touched. She shook her head and met his gaze. “Will you let us blindfold you?”

Snow hesitated. She liked watching their bodies move and flex, the play of muscle and sinew under flesh.

“Without your vision, you’ll feel more.”

Snow giggled, and Belden’s eyes crinkled. “You could not possibly give me more pleasure than you already have.”

Belden’s smile turned wicked. “Challenge accepted.” He raised the length of dark satin again, and Snow bit her lip, her breath hitching as she stepped forward and he tied the darkness tightly around her head. Snow trembled as thick shadows pressed against her eyes, viciously aware of the sounds and smells of the men around her, the heat of their skin, the rush of their breaths.

“Hands up.” Belden’s voice was thunder against her temple.

Snow slowly raised her arms until her fingers were high overhead. Two strong, calloused palms slid deliciously up her sides, up her arms to gently clasp her fingertips, then coax her to spin. Slowly at first, Snow turned, like the ladies in fine dresses she remembered watching as a child in the castle.

Beyond the edges of her space, she was vaguely aware of the thieves shifting and moving around her, disorienting her to where they stood. Swiftly Snow turned, the eye in the storm of lust and testosterone, until her head spun, her foot stumbled, and she was snatched from the air by a pair of strong arms. Then the storm broke, and Snow was hurled into the melee.

Everywhere, hands pressed, caressed, stroked and touched. Clean-shaven mouths sucked at her lips while stubble scratched at her cheeks and beards prickled against her chest. Snow’s hands clutched at strong necks, balanced herself against thick arms, gripped hard muscle under smooth skin.

Mouths she could not identify clamped over the aching peaks of each breast, and Snow cried out against the jaw that held her kiss. Teeth dug into the tender flesh at the nape of her neck, making Snow gasp and tremble as the hot length of a hard cock was pressed firmly between her buttocks.

Iron arms wrapped around her tightly, crushing her back against a wall of burning chest. She was thrown off balance and held in perfect safety as her thighs were lifted and spread apart. Thumbs wove through the curtain of curls, exposing pink flesh and opening her wide an instant before an eager mouth descended upon her. It sucked, licked, and nursed her sensitive flesh until she lost track of anything beyond the tidal waves of pleasure sweeping across her from the tangle of fingers, mouths, tongues, and touches.

Something shifted, and Snow’s legs were wrapped around a pair of lean hips. With one thrust, she was filled roughly to the hilt with a long cock and cried out against the sensation. The head of a second shaft nudged gently at her rear passage. She strained against the sensation, opening and pressing back until the pressure slid past the tight ring of muscle and into the shuddering depths of her body.

Trapped deliciously between two of her thieves, Snow urged them on, arching and pressing against their rhythm as they emptied her and then filled her completely. Snow sighed her satisfaction, clutching at her two lovers, one arm thrown around each of their necks, holding them close.

With a trembling wave, Snow cried out as the thief who had claimed her ass groaned against her neck and filled her with his spent passion. A heartbeat later, the thief buried in her pussy and pumped furiously into her until his muscles went tight, and he emptied himself into her core.

Before the stars behind Snow’s covered eyes stopped spinning, the two men who cradled her slipped free of her burning flesh. Snow felt the dig of thumbs under her arms as she was caught and carried, then laid across the hard expanse of what could only be the dining table. A warm, wet cloth was pressed between her legs, the rough scratch of the fabric almost unbearable against her sore and swollen flesh.

“Allcott? Studs?” Snow whispered, curious of the identity of the man washing her so carefully, but he did not answer. The cloth wiped away the evidence of spent passion from her thighs and slit before, with one mighty thrust, Snow was filled again.

Snow gasped, then let the hard, steady slap of the thief’s thighs against her aching core carry her higher again.

“Shift her this way.”

Through the fog of pleasure, behind the blindfold, Snow felt the relentless fucking slow then stop. Four hands cupped her hips and shoulders, sliding her across the table until her head hung lazily over the edge.

Blind to her surroundings, Snow raised her hands and found the hard lines of a man standing close to her face. The rough pounding between her legs resumed, and Snow moaned at each sharp jolt of pleasure, her breath coming out in sharp puffs with each thrust.

A smooth wet weight slid across her lower lip. Snow’s tongue darted out, tasting the precum spread across her mouth.

“Open for me.” The command was soft but firm, and Snow's nipples tingled in response. One gentle finger stroked across her cheek as the round dome of the thief’s shaft nudged again against her lips.

With a wanton grin, Snow grabbed the thick hard flesh in one hand and guided it into her mouth. Taking her pace from the man between her thighs, Snow sucked and swallowed around the delicious length with long, hard pulls. With her hands, she clutched at his hips, urging him forward until he started thrusting into her mouth. The two men moaned and grunted as their cocks filled and emptied her, and she drowned in the pleasure they poured across her skin. With a flex of her thighs and a long, gulping shudder, Snow choked out her release, swallowing one offering and feeling the other fill her, hot and urgent.

The heat of their bodies was removed, and again Snow lay, empty and sated, but new hands found her and placed her before the roar and crack of the fire. Snow was set on her knees, her legs pressed apart as she was again filled from behind, the ache in her tender flesh drowned out by the pleasure of the firm length spreading her wide.

Snow went limp in the arms that held her high and tall against his chest. The thief’s mouth on her throat, whispering praise, spun with the intoxication of pleasure. In the fog of intensity, Snow was left a shell of sensation and hunger.

Clutching at his neck and arching her back, Snow instinctively welcomed him deeper, running towards the urgency that swelled inside her. And he chased her relentlessly.

Will this fucking never end? Snow wondered, lost in the last sliver of conscious thought. Will I die at their hands, crushed under the weight of such ecstasy?

As the fire cracked and her blood roared in her ears, when she was sure that her legs would collapse and unsure that she would survive another climax, he drove himself deep and hard into her center, clutching and holding her still with strong hands.

His hips pistoned against her, his width stretching her wide and claiming her completely. Her mind spiralled away from conscious thought, becoming a bottomless well of sensation. Pleasure bordering on pain flooded every nerve ending, invaded every cell of her being. The emptiness that pressed against her eyes thickened even as she became the slide of the thief’s skin against hers, his breath on her neck, his arms holding her tall. She leaned into him harder, eager to drain the last of the pleasure he could pour into her body.

Her shifting hips heightened the pressure of her depths against the head of his cock, and he groaned as he exploded within her. She felt his passion spend, pulsing inside her, hot and molten. He crushed her tighter in his grip, gasping to catch his breath against her shoulder.

She waited to be released. She waited for the wet empty feeling as he slid his cock free, but he did not move.

Eventually, his arms shifted, then rough fingers spread her sore and puffy lips. Snow moaned against the pressure, the blending ache of satiation battling her ever-present need. Practiced strokes danced along her inner skin, stoking her ebbing flames hotter. He held her pliant body against his, pushing her knees wider with the press of his thighs.

“I can’t,” she whispered, even as she pressed against his hand, her hips shifting against him, her pulsing core milking the last drops of his cum.

She felt him smile against her skin and struggled again to recognize him when his voice filled her ear. “I think you can.”

A mouth clamped down on one burning nipple, and Snow cried out, her fingers twisting into the second thief’s hair. She pressed him closer, revelling in the firm rhythmic tugs on her aching bud. Then more hands were on her thighs, spreading them wider still, so her peach was meer inches from the rug. She felt new fingers stroke the engorged labia, tugging on a curl of hair, spreading her lips wide. Snow bit down a groan as pressure spiked inside her. She thrust her hips forward, demanding, desperate, lost in a world of sensation, devoid of words.

Finally, one blessed finger found her throbbing clit, stroking the scarlet pip and sending her spiralling into oblivion. A hoarse scream cut from her throat before she collapsed amidst the sparks of light shooting behind her eyes.


In a round black room, before a mirror framed in charred bone, the Queen knelt, facing her reflection.

“You are the fairest… You are the fairest…” it whispered, the drone of its voice a trembling promise that should have offered comfort, but instead, there was only pain.

“You promised…”

The Queen looked down. The golden skin was soft on her hands, her knuckles smooth and cool.

“You failed…”

Something was wrong. I smashed the mirror. I remember smashing it...

“So she lives…” The mirror’s voice shifted to a hiss, the threat permeating the icy air that wrapped tightly around the Queen’s burning flesh.

The Queen raised her eyes to the mirror’s inky surface, watching the shadows twist and writhe beyond the glass. Though she fought to look deeper, no reflection appeared. The mirror’s surface flickered between flat perfection and a web of shattered glass.

“She lives…”

The Queen looked down again to find her hands red with blood, a shard of broken mirror cutting brightly into her palm. Wincing, she moved to set it down, but a rasp behind her brought her head up with a snap.

“My Queen,” a vision huffed, an unrecognizable twist of flesh and bone shimmered in the mirror’s surface. The Queen twisted her head, peering into the murky expanse that stretched out behind her. “Old Queen.” The shadows shifted, and Snow White’s angelic face materialized from the darkness. “Ugly Queen.” The girl’s face twisted and snarled, a seething void filling her eyes like spilled ink.

The Queen trembled as terror rushed through her.

Snow White opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was filled with midnight, staining her teeth black. The darkness rolled over her tongue and overflowed her mouth, running down her chin as the girl hissed, “Ugly. Ugly. Ugly…”

Fear and rage spun into one aching wave of power, and the Queen lurched forward. A jagged shard of mirror clutched suddenly in the Queen’s hand sliced into Snow’s right eye, sticking from her socket like a winking icicle. Black lips curled back, exposing black teeth, and Snow White lurched forward.

Desperation swelled to bursting in the Queen’s chest, and she lurched toward the nightmare vision of her stepdaughter, wrapping her bloodstained hands around the girl’s throat and crushing down with all her might.

Blinding tears of horror and pain spilled over the Queen’s lids as Snow pressed forward, her ice-white skin tinted blue, the smears of blackness on her chin and throat slipping under the Queen’s crushing grasp.

“Die. Please, die,” the Queen screamed into vacant black holes where eyes should be, the thrusting shard of mirror that rattled hollowly against bone.

When her arms burned with exertion, when she knew there was not one more ounce of strength in her body, the Queen felt the snap of something beneath her hands. Princess Snow White went limp, collapsing away from the Queen’s stained fingers and dissolving into nothing.


In a sheen of cold sweat, the Queen pushed herself to her knees. All around her, shards of broken glass peppered the black stone floor. Her arms, legs, hands and face were scored with lines of jagged cuts, smears of blood and dirt.

The Queen stared into the one remaining edge of the mirror that clung to the charred bone frame. Her reflection, small and crooked, stared back, unaffected by the destruction the Queen’s rage had wrought.

“How could I have failed? The comb was perfect. The poison infallible.” The Queen blinked hot tears down her icy cheeks, remorse and confusion stealing the edges of her strength. She wanted to give in. She wanted to collapse at the foot of her shattered mirror and wait for death to take her.

“You failed before when you misspoke. Your Huntsman, his own word he broke. Each spell you cast will take its toll unless, at last, you reach your goal.” The reflection preened in its perfection while the Queen stared down at the dried blood on her hands, the tattered bandages that covered the cuts and scrapes.

Like a soothing fog, her dreams from the night before rushed back, the terror wiped away, leaving only the last and final image. Behind her waking eyes, the Queen watched again as Snow struggled for breath, then lay terribly and perfectly still.

A horrible smile cracked her dry lips as the Queen staggered to her feet. First, she stumbled and limped, then walked, then raced about her workshop, collecting ribbon and bone, strips of iron, lace and silk.

Through the rest of the day and all through the night, as her fingers bled and her hands ached, the Queen stitched her revenge into the fabric with a needle carved from a murderer’s finger bone. As the darkness shifted and deepened, the Queen whispered curses and wove terrible magik into each seam of a garment as red as blood, as perfect as the night sky and as deadly as a rabid wolf. In the night’s darkest hour, the Queen raised her gift to the sky, and the torches trembled and sputtered in their holders, bowed by the wickedness the Queen had created.

“Survive this gift, my dear, damned stepdaughter. It is long past time you joined your father in the grave.”

Moments later, the Queen swept from the castle, her torn dress thrown carelessly back over her injured legs, her fists bandaged with strips of torn cloth. She pulled the hood of her filthy robe high over her tangle of golden curls as she wove between the shadows.

“You die this time, pretty one,” the Queen laughed to herself as she walked back out into the frigid cold. The icy wind bit at her cheeks, and, in her mounting madness, she bit back.

Continued in Snow White and the Poisoned Apple: The Final Chapter

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With Love,

Regina Grimm is the author of erotic fairytales written for the uninhibited readers 18+.

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