Just a Taste: Snow White and the Seven Thieves, Chapter 3
You've been waiting so patiently! And the wait is almost over! Snow White and the Seven Thieves: Chapter 3 is launching in paperback soon!
I published Snow White and the Seven Thieves exclusively as an ebook back in 2021, and I think I have looked forward to this paperback most of all. I love my seven thieves, each on in their own special way, and I can scarcely wait to have them in my hot little hands!
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.
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 Vicious Curse - Sneak Peek
“I must be delirious,” Snow murmured, so tired and so cold that the words may have just been her chattering teeth against her numb lips. Dark and majestic, watching silently from a branch high in the tree, a crow peered on with obsidian eyes.
Snow White stood, naked and trembling, her body a web of scrapes and bruises, in front of a tree so tall she could scarcely see its top. She craned her head up towards the sky, but the tree was so wide around that it blotted out the rest of the world. Her blurry eyes slid over the twisted knots of bark and vines, catching on edges that were a little too straight and on a glimmer of light that was more firelight than firefly.
Dawn was breaking in the East, but the light had not yet reached her and could not explain the glow that threaded hope between the rough edges of her soul. Nor could it wipe the smell of wood smoke from her nostrils. This clearing with its impossible tree, its flickering light, smelled of her hearth, and though it had been her prison, the only home she had ever known.
With the last of her strength, through the darkest shadows of waning night, her hand reached out and grasped a door handle twisted into the bark. With a jiggle and all of Snow’s weight behind it, the door gave way and opened into a vast room carved into the very centre of the tree.
A fire burned merrily on the stone hearth, and relief flooded Snow as she stumbled across the room towards the flames. Her eyes skipped over seven empty coat hooks, a table set with seven seats, and a half-circle of seven massive chairs facing the fireplace before she collapsed on a giant white fur rug. Holding her hands towards the cheery glow, Snow felt the warmth creep into her fingers, flood into her palms, and rush up her arms.
Sighing with pleasure, she crouched closer to the heat, holding her feet towards the glowing hearth.
When the fire burned low, she glanced around and dragged two more large logs from the woodpile, tipping them into the bank of flames and smiling as the fire licked the wood, engulfing her in heat.
Slowly, the icy numbness in her limbs sparked and pricked with pins and needles as the blood rushed back through her skin.
For what felt like hours, she sat inches from the flames, scooting closer and closer till ash and soot smudged across her scrapes and bruises. More than once, in her eagerness, Snow reached too close and singed her fingers on the fire.
At last, as the first rays of dawn turned the light in the room purple, her body was warm and soft with exhaustion. Snow pulled back from the fire and curled into the overstuffed chair closest to the hearth. Tugging a woollen blanket from the chair’s back over her naked, battered, and filthy body, Snow slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The Queen set her fork aside and wiped the last of the gravy from her plate with one long delicate finger. “Such a tasty morsel,” the Queen sighed around her finger. “Compliments to the chef. Oh, and our Huntsman, of course, for his unerring ability to capture only the finest, sweetest flesh.”
Her gaze locked on the Huntsman, who stood just outside the door to the dining hall. She let her eyes roll back in ecstasy as the last of her dear, departed stepdaughter’s lungs and liver slipped down her throat and sat peacefully in her stomach.
“At last,” the Queen moaned. With patience born of knowing she finally had everything she wanted, the regal woman pushed her fall of blond curls over her shoulder, allowed Tripp, her valet, to pull out her chair, and lifted her wine-filled goblet from the table. Humming, she sauntered out of the room, her hips swaying with satisfaction as the servants scuttled in from the shadows to clear her plate.
Pausing at the doorway, she shot a heated look over her shoulder, catching Tripp staring after her with lust in his eyes.
"Tripp," the Queen's voice was hot and low. “Join me in my chambers. We have much business to discuss.”
Tripp stumbled over his boots in his eagerness to follow the Queen to her chambers. By the time he crossed her threshold and was closing the door behind them, the Queen stood in the middle of the room and watched him in the reflection of a large round mirror.
“Your majesty,” Tripp bowed low, his gaze locked on his Queen.
“Come to me,” the Queen’s voice rolled low and warm across the room. Tripp rushed forward, stopping behind her, his breath hitching behind his pounding heart. “I am in need of your services. It has been a very successful day, and I wish to celebrate it.”
Tripp bowed his head. “Of course, your majesty. And how would you like me to arrange a celebration? A ball, perhaps? Or a lavish party?”
The Queen’s smile turned Tripp’s insides to mush. “I want you to lift my skirts and fuck me like the lowly creature you are until I am satisfied.”
Tripp’s mouth fell open, and his voice failed him. His mouth became as dry as ash.
“Do you feel like that is something you can manage? Must I instruct you every step of the way?” A shadow crossed the Queen’s radiant face, and her mouth turned down in boredom.
Tripp shook his head and fought to recover himself. “N-no, your majesty. I mean—yes, your grace. I can manage that. You do not need to instruct me…” He stepped closer, so his boots nudged the hem of her wide skirt, then and then he hesitated. His hands shook with desire he had long denied, forcing it down when the king lived and letting it simmer all the years since. The Queen had teased and tormented him in her cold-hearted way for years as she carelessly carved her way through the staff— male and female alike. Tripp had seen many sturdy servants leave the Queen’s chambers at any hour of the night, exhausted and dishevelled, but had never dared dream that he would join the ranks of her lovers.
The Queen sighed in frustration, propping her hands on her hips, her golden gaze frosty when it met his in the mirror. “If I had wanted an uncertain virgin, I would have plucked a stable boy from his duty. If you cannot act on the heat I see in your gaze, then leave me to my fingers.”
Tripp gritted his teeth and let go of his control. Both hands gripped the Queen’s wide skirts and lifted them sharply. The layers of crinolines and underskirts folded in his hands until they were bunched between their bodies, and the Queen’s luscious ass with her golden skin came into view. With an animal groan, he stepped in against her, cupping the twin globes with hot hands and squeezing her roughly.
The Queen sighed. “Better, but I asked for a fuck, not a chaste mauling.”
Trip bit back a curse and lunged forward, pressing the rock-hard bulge in his trousers against the crack of her ass. He wrapped one arm around her ribs and grabbed at her bodice with the other. A snarl broke from his mouth as he tore the fabric aside, pushed the Queen’s corset out of the way and palmed the gilded weight of her breast. Sliding his thumb over her nipple, he thrilled when it tightened beneath his touch.
“I have wanted inside you since the first night you came to the castle,” he growled against her throat. “Not a day has passed that I have not imagined my cock locked inside your sweet pussy.”
The Queen smiled serenely, her face luminous in the mirror. “And yet I have handed you the opportunity on a platter, and still you hesitate. Must I draw you a map?”
Tripp bit down on her neck, the fingers on her breast clamping down tighter, his other hand shoving her skirts aside and slipping between her legs. Her slick folds were swollen and so wet he nearly lost control as his fingers slid inside her. The Queen groaned, her eyelids fluttering as she pressed back into his hands.
“Is that what you want, your majesty?” Tripp growled as he slid a second finger inside her wet lips, then followed it with a third, relishing in how her inner muscles clamped down upon him.
“You fuck like your cock doesn’t work,” the Queen let out a strangled gasp as Tripp slid his fingers free, untied the laces of his breeches, and slammed his cock inside her hot depths. “Yesssss—” the Queen hissed as Tripp tipped her forward, planting her hands on a table before the mirror and finally took control.
She could see the glint of anger blending with lust in his eyes and revelled in it. He was such fun to torment. His wide hands grabbed her hips and yanked her back against him repeatedly. Her ass pounded his thighs, his cock driving deep and hard.
The Queen moaned and slipped a hand into the bodice of her gown, pulling her breasts free and running her fingers over the smooth skin as he pushed her higher. Her vision narrowed as he increased his rhythm, darkening around the edges until all she could see was her reflection. Her shining hair coming loose from its pins and sliding over her shoulders like a fall of gold coins, her breasts bouncing with each lunge. Her stunning face lashes lowered, cheeks glowing pink, mouth soft and swollen.
“I am so beautiful,” the Queen cried out, her inner muscles clamping down hard on Tripp’s thrusting cock as she came, hard and fast, her breath crushing from her chest, her legs buckling as the pleasure broke through her like a shot.
Tripp yanked her slumping body harder against him, shoving her across the table so he could maintain his leverage. With one last volley of hard fast strokes, he came with a roar and pulled back before he collapsed upon his Queen.
“Where is she?” The Huntsman loomed over the footman in the dining hall.
“I—I don’t know, sir,” the young man paled before the rugged hunter glowering at him.
“How can you not know where your Queen is? Is that not your job?” The Huntsman’s heart started to race. He realized that the Queen’s satisfaction would be short-lived, and soon, she would be returning to her black stone room to consult with the demons in her mirror.
The mirror will know the truth. It will know Snow White lives, the Huntsman thought. There was little hope of surviving the Queen’s wrath once she discovered his deception. But if I can distract the Queen long enough for Snow White to escape the Kingdom, this might not all be in vain.
“She is in her chambers, sir,” a maid, young and pretty, looked up at the Huntsman with nothing but fear in her eyes. The Huntsman nodded and turned to stalk his way to her rooms. He knew the way by heart after many late-night visits, and no one stopped nor questioned him on his way.
Not bothering to knock, the Huntsman opened the Queen’s chamber doors and stepped into the shadowy room. “Mistress,” he whispered as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
“Mmm, Huntsman,” the Queen’s voice curled like smoke around him, hooking him deep in his core and sparking primal lust into flame. “Have you come to play?”
The Huntsman’s eyes fell on the Queen’s bed, where she lay sprawled across the tangled sheets. Her golden hair shone in the gloom, and the Huntsman’s hands itched to touch it. As his pupils pulled wider, he noticed that the Queen was not alone. Tripp was beside her, pale in the meagre light.
“I have come to serve, m’lady,” the Huntsman dipped his head in a bow, but it appears that you have everything you need—” The Huntsman’s voice dried up as he turned to leave.
“Wait,” the Queen’s quiet command was as powerful as a shout. It froze the Huntsman mid-step and turned his chin to face her. The Queen was sitting up, naked and splendid, the shadows caressing her skin like smoke. The Huntsman’s mind filled with memories of her skin, her mouth, her eager sex swelling beneath his tongue. His cock twitched against his trousers. “Come to me, Huntsman,” the Queen lifted one regal hand and beckoned him forward.
Like a moth to flame, he was drawn in, his breath hitching as he stepped close enough to smell her skin, the scent of sex still lingering in the room. He reached out to take her hand, then bowed over it, pressing his lips lightly to her knuckles. At the touch of her skin, a jolt shot through him, and he knew he was lost. Should she ask him to throw himself upon his blade, he would not hesitate. The stone in his chest where a heart had once beat turned colder.
“Darling is everything—” Tripp sat up, the sheets sliding from his lean torso, pooling across his lap. He stopped, his eyes flashing with jealousy when he saw the man standing at the side of the bed.
The Queen turned her head to look at Tripp. “How sweet,” she murmured. “You are jealous.” Her laughter was brittle and barbed. “To think you have the right to something you do not own. Foolish boy.” The Queen pushed herself to her feet, miles of gleaming skin catching the sparse light in the room and amplifying it to blinding.
She crossed the room away from the two men still sizing each other up and stopped with her hand on the handle to her late husband’s door.
“If you two can manage it, I would like you both to take me in my husband’s bed,” she glanced over her shoulder, glittering gold eyes piercing the two like twin harpoons. Tripp slid from the bed, the sheet and his jealousy forgotten as he followed his mistress across her room. The Huntsman hesitated a single breath before he too crossed to the second doorway—the one that led to the late king’s apartments.
The Queen smiled angelically, and both men’s hearts skipped a beat. “The king’s bed has been cold far too long.”
A cacophony of noise woke Snow from a dark pit of sleep. Before her mind could make sense of the racket, she noticed that the fire that had roared merrily when she had fallen asleep barely smouldered now. Instead, the flames burned down to a handful of cherry coals.
Instinctively, she pulled the blanket over her head and listened.
It sounded like a herd of wild boars with crass mouths, and booming voices were stampeding through the front door. There was a crash of metal on wood, and Snow shuddered. Have I climbed from the frigid death the forest promised into a far more dangerous situation?
"—bastard surrendered so quickly I didn't even get to land one blasted punch!" A voice like crashing rocks rolled over Snow, bringing up the hairs on her neck as she hid beneath the soft folds of the blanket.
Two more thunks of heavy sacks falling, the clink of metal against metal, then another voice, this one smooth as silk. "You can't just go around punching people who don’t fight back, Lupin, no matter what your instincts want."
"Shut it, Olin. If you can write a fucking song about some nancy nobleman abandoning his loot at the first glimpse of us, I should be able to crack a few skulls."
Hearing a scuffle closer to the door, Snow snuck a peek from under the blanket.
Men filled the room.
Two were locked in an aggressive grapple while even more struggled through the door. Each one carried something heavy: a sack, trunk, glinting plates and cups, framed paintings, or stacks of books. The items were discarded beyond Snow’s sight to her left.
"Take it outside! We don't have time to patch up the furniture that you two asses will destroy."
The larger of the grappling men wrapped his arm around the neck of the smaller, turning to face a short man with a handsome face. He had blue eyes so stormy Snow could see their cloudy glint across the room. The larger man, his partner still trapped and struggling beneath his arm, made an aggressive gesture at Blue Eyes.
"Shove it, Ransford," the tall man snarled.
Ransford returned the gesture with both hands and spun away. "You're one step short of a wild beast, Lupin. We’ll build you a pen outside if you cannot behave yourself indoors."
Snow peered on. Lupin dragged the struggling Olin outside, shoving past more men who had stopped at a wooden bench beneath the coat posts to kick off their boots. The door slammed shut behind them, and the sounds of fighting resumed, muffled by the walls.
A man with silver hair at his temples and a grey and black beard stumbled through the doorway. “What now?” Snow could hear the exasperation in his stiff, cultured voice as he shoved a pair of spectacles up his nose.
A huge hulking man stood from his seat on the bench, filling the doorway behind the gray-haired man.
"Olin is helping Lupin burn off some energy, Belden." The giant’s voice was overly loud, his words plodding but concise.
Belden pulled his glasses from his nose and polished them on a tidy white handkerchief. "Thank you, Studs."
Studs’ cherubic face split into a huge smile. He clapped one gigantic hand on Belden’s shoulder, and Belden almost collapsed beneath the weight. Then Belden and Studs moved towards the kitchen out of Snow's line of sight. She heard someone filling bowls and plates, liquid glugging from a jug, and a delicious aroma flowed from the kitchen into her nose, making her stomach rumble loudly. She pressed a fist to the hollow ache below the ribs and prayed they hadn't heard her.
But the loud conversation from near the table, the continuing commotion from outside, and the clank and clatter of dinner being served surely drowned out her grumbling guts.
Snow glanced longingly at the door and began plotting her escape. She looked down at her naked body shielded by the blanket.
If I can hold onto the blanket as I run, I’ll be better off than when I arrived, Snow thought. She tried not to focus on her aching feet, the leather slippers she had lost in the mud days ago. Her eyes slid over the length of the room before her. The distance to the front door stretched for miles, and a wave of hopelessness washed over her. So long as the two men were fighting outside, she knew she could not safely make a break for the exit.
Maybe if she was quick and they were still locked in a testosterone-induced grapple, she could slip past them. Snow had almost talked herself into trying while the other three were busy in the kitchen when yet another man came through the door.
Snow’s mouth dropped open. This man had skin the colour of caramel, with shining black hair cut so short on the sides she could see his scalp, the hair on top long and falling over one eye. His black eyes crinkled at the corners over a too-wide mouth, but something about him stirred a heat deep inside Snow. The heat was foreign, new, and tugged at something primal inside her. It reminded her of her time with the Huntsman before the boar attacked, but it was different too. Soft and warm and just hers. The feeling rasped against her need to escape. She needed to run before one of them saw her.
What if it was just the Queen’s magic that had protected the Huntsman? Just because he survived, her touch didn’t mean she was no longer dangerous.
"All right, boys, where should I drop the rest of it?” In each of his hands, the copper-skinned man held a large leather sack, tied closed and sagging under the weight of its contents.
"Dump it on the floor, Kieon. Alcott is putting the loot away."
Kieon laughed, a sound as warm and rich as chocolate, as he set the bags off to Snow’s left, beyond where she could see. Then he crossed her view again to join the others in the kitchen, raising the noise level to deafening heights.
Shaking her head to gather her wits, Snow turned her eyes to the door again. The space between her chair and the front door appeared insurmountable. The house was so large it could easily have hosted a ball, where people would dance before the massive stone fireplace. Snow weighed her options. Her best hope was to take advantage of the element of surprise.
If I leap up suddenly and run for the forest, surely I could get away before they think to chase me, Snow thought, especially if I wait till they are all seated at the table.
She paused, taking mental stock. Two were still outside. She could still hear the grunting and muffled curses coming from beyond the front door.
Taking in slow deep breaths, Snow eased herself farther under the blanket and slid up the back of the chair until her eyes cleared its overstuffed back.
From her new vantage point, she could see into the kitchen. Belden, his silver hair glinting in the candlelight, was ladling heaping portions of stew onto large tin dishes. Ransford took the filled plates and spread them out on the table, one in front of each of the seven chairs. Studs meaty paw was clutched tightly around a tapered candle which he was using to light the many lanterns around the room. Kieon was already seated, his sock feet propped up on the table. His husky voice slid through the racket and tingled down Snow’s spine.
“— but that lady. Oh, the fun we could have had with her. That precious pout, those wicked hazel eyes. She would have been worth ten times the gold we took from that milk toast fop —”
Ransford shoved Kieon’s feet off the table, cutting him off mid-sentence. Kieon jumped from his chair.
“What is your problem?” Kieon snapped, glaring at Ransford.
“No one wants your filthy feet on the table, and no one wants to hear your half-baked sex stories about women you could have fucked,” Ransford growled, scowling at Kieon from under dark brows.
Between heartbeats, both Ransford and Kieon raised their fists, eyes glinting before Belden snapped, "Enough! Supper is ready."
Ransford and Kieon slowly lowered their fists but kept sneering at each other as they fell into their chairs. Studs and Belden followed suit, taking their seats at the huge table.
Snow considered her odds, tucked the blanket lower over her eyes, and was priming herself to leap up and run for the cold night when a strange thought struck her.
She counted the men again. Four at the table. Two fighting outdoors. Six total. But there were seven coat hooks. There were seven chairs. Seven plates of stew spread across the table.
"There's something in my chair."
Continued in Snow White and the Seven Thieves
Want to catch up? Snow White and the Wicked Queen, Chapter 1 and Snow White and the Vicious Curse, Chapter 2 are available now in paperback, or, as my gift to you, grab your favourite eBook format for FREE here!
Regina Grimm is the author of erotic fairytales written for the uninhibited readers 18+.
Check out her books:
Snow White and the Wicked Curse: Chapter 1
The final chapter, Snow White and the Poisoned Apple.
Prefer to read the whole story at once? Grab your copy of Snow: The Complete Erotic Series now! All five books are coming soon in Paperback.