Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1280

Chapter 1280: Chapter 1280

He lay on the moss, surrounded by bodies - limbs tangled, breasts pressed against his chest and face, thighs over his legs, hair covering his skin like a blanket of wild silk.

The island hummed.

And he heard it clearly now.

It wasn’t just a song.

It was a heartbeat.

And he had become part of it.

Rose leaned over him, her face glowing with sweat and joy. "Now you understand."

He nodded. "It’s not possession. It’s communion."

She kissed him again, slow and deep.

"We were never lost," she whispered. "Just asleep."

The others curled around them, sighing, smiling, kissing each other lazily.

They were no longer a group of lovers.

They were a single living thing.

That night, they didn’t return to the treehouse.

They stayed in the clearing, bodies wrapped around one another in patterns of touch and tenderness. Jude held Sophie in his arms, Lucy curled on his chest, Emma’s head resting on his thigh. Scarlet and Natalie were pressed together beside him, whispering in each other’s ears. Zoey stood watch for a while, but even she eventually came back and laid between Grace and Stella.

The moon rose.

And they sang.

Softly at first.

Then louder.

One voice, then two, then twelve.

The same melody the island had been humming for days - but now it wasn’t just the island. It was them.

They belonged.

Jude sang too.

His voice joined theirs, warm and low, and the forest shifted around them. Leaves curled toward the sound. The ground pulsed with light. The roots glowed faintly beneath their bodies. The tree in the center stretched higher.

And from the dark edge of the clearing, something massive watched.

Not threatening.

Just listening.

Then it bowed.

And vanished into the trees.

Jude closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks as Lucy kissed them away. "We’ve become the dream," she whispered. "And the dream has become us."

Rose laid beside him, pressed her palm over his heart. "You were always the anchor."

"I don’t know what I am now," he said.

Her smile was radiant. "You’re ours."

The others murmured their agreement. Twelve voices in one breath.

Jude kissed her.

And then kissed them all.

By the time the stars bled through the canopy again, he had loved each of them.

And they had loved each other.

Not in halves.

Not in fragments.

But fully.

Endlessly.

Together.

And somewhere far below, in the deepest roots of the island, the black tree bloomed.

The morning after the bloom was warm and wet, dew collecting on every leaf, every inch of bare skin, and every kiss left on the moss. The black tree at the center of the clearing now pulsed faintly with gold veins running up its twisted bark, like veins through onyx, alive and glowing with the energy they’d poured into it during the night. At its base, where they had made love - again and again - the moss had turned violet, lush and fragrant like crushed fruit and wild flowers.

Jude stirred slowly, half-draped in Zoey’s arms, her leg over his hip, her lips still pressed lightly to his neck. Lucy lay curled against his chest, her hand resting on his heart, fingers twitching faintly in sleep. Susan was pressed to his back, breath warm and steady, while Emma was draped across his thighs, skin sticky with sweat and satisfaction.

They had become a tapestry of heat, breath, and want.

And the island had responded.

He opened his eyes and looked toward the tree. Rose stood beneath it, alone and silent, her back to him. The wind caught her hair, lifting it like it was underwater. She wore nothing but the wild - feathers in her hair, dirt on her feet, and sunlight licking across her spine. She turned slowly, sensing his gaze, and smiled with a radiance that made his breath catch.

"Come," she said softly.

Jude slipped from between the bodies, careful not to wake them. His skin was marked with fingerprints, scratch lines, dried sweat, and love bites - twelve different women had claimed him in the same night, and he felt all of them still lingering on his soul. He padded across the soft moss, and Rose opened her arms, welcoming him wordlessly.

He walked into her and she wrapped around him, their bodies meeting with a kind of aching familiarity that had transcended speech. Her kiss was deeper than breath, her hands sliding across his back, her hips grinding up against his hardening length.

"We’re not done," she whispered into his mouth.

"No," he breathed, "we’ve just begun."

She sank to her knees before him, her eyes locked to his, reverent and hungry. Her lips met him with slow, deliberate worship, her hands stroking the backs of his thighs as she worked his length into her mouth. Jude groaned low, hips trembling. She took her time - wet, hot, soft - and when she finally rose again, her mouth glistening, her fingers guided him inside her without hesitation.

Rose straddled him against the base of the black tree, her thighs clenching tight around his hips, her head thrown back, eyes shut, singing.

Actually singing.

A low, wordless moan that vibrated through his skin.

The moment he thrust up into her, the tree lit again - gold streaks pulsing up its bark with every movement of their bodies. She rode him slow at first, then harder, faster, her hands tangled in his hair, her cries turning to gasps of his name and sacred nonsense.

Jude lost himself in her.

In the tree.

In the island.

When he came, it wasn’t just in her - it felt like he poured himself into the soil, the roots, the very breath of the earth beneath them. Rose cried out with him, and the tree pulsed a final brilliant white, before settling into a slow, rhythmic glow.

Their bodies stayed tangled together as she whispered, "It’s time to show the others."

He looked past her - and saw the rest waking.

Twelve women, nude and radiant, rose one by one from the moss.