Erotic Snow White Novels & Stories

When he turns back to face me, my lips tremble, and I stammer out a single word: "Vivaldi." His eyes gleam with amusement as he licks the Hunter's blood from his fingers, raising an eyebrow in a playful waggle. "It is I, Snowboy," he says with a smirk, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar—or in this case, the blood.

He was handsome in every way June could have ever imagined and those black eyes of his, gazed at her thoughtfully and it was at this that June noticed she was still staring at the man that she looked away and pretended she was cleaning the bar her mind still wandering on the man. She felt like she had known him or she had seen him. “Mr. White! You came!” the woman, now revealed Clara exclaimed and June immediately knew where she knew him. Of course the best celebrity tycoon. Miles White. Flawless and spotless plus daringly handsome, more than the magazines had portrayed.

“Even though we haven’t managed to find Ms. Riverra’s corpse, based on the amount of blood we found at the scene of the crime, we believe she was dismembered.” “Dismembered?” “Yes. We also found severed hands and legs in the snow, but we didn’t find her torso or head.” “No… Impossible… It can’t be her. I’m sure it’s not her… You must be mistaken.” “Mr. Clark, I hope that you’ll accept the truth. We’re also sorry that such a thing happened to Ms. Riverra, but the more important thing now is to catch her murderer. Mr. Clark, please think: when was the last time you contacted Ms. Riverra. Was there anything strange about her?”

Even as an adult, Aella always felt small whenever she stood close to him. He was putting on a cape of wolfskin around his shoulders. Underneath the cape, he had on a black turtleneck and black pants with large combat boots. His mouth was set in an unforgiving line as the both of them regarded each other. He raised a hand and caressed her sweaty face, pushing a strand of her hair to the side. "Poor thing. Poor, precious White Wolf." He murmured without any hint of sympathy in his voice. "Too bad you'll die soon. I really did like you."

His thoughts were a whirlwind of desire thrashing into my mind like a tsunami while lightning danced through the storm. He pulled away briefly to look into my eyes, and there was so much passion and need swirling through his neon green orbs. “I love you so fucking much, Snow.” He purred. “Then take me.” I moaned. He lifted me up against the glass, causing me to wrap my legs around his torso as he forcefully entered me.

Still, she doesn't have time to think about it because Xavier's tongue is already spinning and playing on hers, and the pleasure it gives her is even better than eating delicious food in the castle. Snow mumbled, "Oh, Xavier, it feels good," as Xavier's lips moved down her neck and onto her breast. Getting her to arch in happiness. And what's even crazier is that Lyca is still wearing her clothes, but the way she feels is making her lose her mind.

Claire asked. "Did White ever tell you how he got to charm you?" Harriet asked, turning to Claire. "Of course not. He was so blinded with his love for the cold, and I was just a girl tending to her gardens. He wanted the most beautiful flower to charm the storm, and he wanted to be kissed by her. It was all from pure emotions as of then. Well, till power corrupted him." "I forbid you to speak," White said.

But the moment I looked up, I froze completely at the reflection in the mirror. The bizarre wolf ears from last night were gone, and my eyes had returned to their original black. However, my hair... all of my previously black hair had permanently turned a stark, snowy white. Not only that, it had abruptly grown a significant amount—thick, voluminous, and flaring out with a wild, untamed nature.

I strip off the janitor’s jumpsuit, feeling the bite of the winter air on my skin. I’m too thin. Every rib shows. I look like a person made of glass, always one tap away from breaking. I crawl into my bed, pulling the thin, scratchy sheets up to my chin. I’m exhausted, but my mind won't shut up. It keeps replaying the way Alan Voss looked at me. Not with disgust. With something… different. I close my eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. I’m not that lucky. The mood changes. It’s not the chilly, beer-smelling air of my dorm anymore. It’s the scent of fancy leather and that strong, sweet cologne.