Page 28 of Snow White

“Thank you,” I whisper, shifting in my chair.

“Why are you scared about not being good enough?” she asks, sitting across from me.

I look down at my cup, focusing on how the tea leaves swirl in the liquid. “I have never been good enough before.”

“Why do you say that?” she asks.

I look up at her. “You are my first friend.” I take a sip of my tea. It is warm and soothing. “Clearly, I wasn’t good enough for anyone before.”

“Snow,” she scoffs.

“Yes?” I sigh softly.

“Why do you think people’s poor taste reflects on you?”

“Would it not?” I ask, blinking a few times. “There must be something wrong with me.”

And if there is something wrong with me, if people don’t like me, can I ever be a good queen like my mother?

You can never be like your mother.

My throat tightens at the thought.

Azura scoffs, looking at her nails. “Please.”

My lips curve in a small smile, her words comforting me once again. “Thank you, Azura.”

“For what?”

“For making me feel better.” I let out a long sigh and say, “Tomorrow will be a new day, and the three of us should start fresh.”

No jealousy. No improper thoughts.

“The three of us?” Azura asks, tilting her head.

“You, Belle, and me.”

“Ah.” Azura places her teacup down and stands.

I smile brightly at her as an idea comes to mind. “I will see you tomorrow?”

“If you wish.” She nods.

“Yes! Please!” I squeal, hugging her quickly. Thank the gods my thoughts don’t wander. “Inform Belle that we shall all meet in the tearoom tomorrow. Alright?”

“If that is your wish,” Azura repeats.

I nod again. “It is.”

Azura hums, moving to the door. “Sleep well, my dear Snow.”

“Goodnight, Azura!” I call out as she leaves.

This is good. Tomorrow we will start anew, and everything will be back to how it was the other day.

The soft sheets drag over my nipples, making them grow hard. They ache, and I slide my hands over my stomach, caressing my ebony skin and rolling my hips. I sigh in relief as I pinch them hard, needing something more than just my hands on me.

Then I feel the warm breath on my inner thigh, soft lips trailing higher and higher. A moan catches in my throat, and I grip the sheets as cool air washes over my clit. I ache to be touched there, rubbed, kissed, licked.

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