Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1287

Chapter 1287: Chapter 1287

The moss gave way to stone, and beneath them opened a basin carved into the land itself - a shallow bowl of black marble lined with veins of gold. The inside shimmered with steam. Water, warm and thick like milk and honey, bubbled gently.

It was a bath.

A pool.

A womb.

Rose turned to Jude and held out her hand. "Come. Be reborn with us."

He stepped in first, the heat wrapping around his ankles, his calves, then his thighs. The water slid over his skin like satin, fragrant and heavy. When he sank fully, it welcomed him like an embrace.

The others followed.

Sophie and Lucy on either side, their legs entwined with his.

Stella curled at his back, her breasts pressed softly to his spine.

Grace, Emma, Susan, and Natalie slipped in together, their fingers intertwined, their mouths already finding each other again in reverent hunger.

Zoey sat in front of Jude and leaned back, pulling his face between her thighs. "Drink."

He obeyed.

She tasted of the island - earth and wind, honey and fire.

She moaned, one hand buried in his hair, the other clutching Sophie’s hand as Sophie kissed her.

Lucy turned to Rose, who still stood at the edge, watching. "You’re not joining us?"

"I’ve already merged with her," Rose whispered. "This part is yours."

"Then guide us," Lucy said, sliding onto Jude’s lap, her body lowering over his length again, slick and tight and aching.

And as she rode him, slow and controlled, Rose stepped into the pool and began to sing.

It wasn’t words.

It was tone.

Sound.

Echo.

The kind that reached inside the soul and twisted gently until the listener cried from somewhere deep.

The water glowed.

The stone pulsed.

Jude thrust into Lucy in perfect time with Rose’s voice, and the women responded around them - hands moving, mouths opening, thighs parting. No one held back anymore. Their bodies had become instruments of worship, and Jude was the center. Not as master. Not as god.

As offering.

He surrendered to them.

And they consumed him.

Lucy came first, crying out and shaking in his arms.

Then Sophie, from Emma’s fingers and tongue.

Then Stella, grinding against his leg, moaning into Susan’s shoulder.

Zoey leaned back against the marble, letting Natalie ride her fingers while Grace kissed her neck, both of them trembling with shared need.

And Jude was still inside Lucy when the water overflowed.

It rose, crested, and spilled down the stone edges as if the pool itself had climaxed.

And with it came light.

Blinding.

White.

Pure.

It filled the grove.

The trees.

The sky.

The bodies.

The mouths.

Every leaf sang.

Every vine quivered.

The Source - though unseen - breathed.

When it passed, they collapsed into each other.

The pool cooled.

The glow dimmed.

And the silence that followed was warm, content, whole.

Jude lay on his back, Lucy curled on his chest, Sophie draped over his legs, Emma nestled at his side, and the others close - some sleeping, some still trembling from aftershocks of pleasure.

Rose stood again at the edge of the pool, her eyes now pure gold.

"She’s awake," she said softly.

"She’s always been awake," Sophie replied, her voice dreamy. "We just weren’t listening."

"She’s part of us now," Lucy whispered, her breath warm against Jude’s chest.

"No," Rose corrected gently. "You’re part of her."

And from somewhere deep beneath them, the roots laughed.

Jude didn’t dream that night.

There was no need.

The dream had become the waking world.

When he stirred again, he was still surrounded - by warmth, by skin, by the scent of jasmine and salt and sex. Lucy’s breath was soft against his neck. Sophie’s fingers were tangled in his, their palms pressed over his bare chest. Emma’s lips were still parted where they’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, her hair damp with sweat and river mist.

The pool they’d loved each other in had gone still, its surface now black and reflective like glass. The water no longer glowed, but something shimmered faintly just beneath its surface, pulsing with their memory.

He sat up slowly.

The women around him stirred but didn’t wake.

And that was when he noticed Rose.

Standing again.

Watching.

But this time, she wasn’t alone.

Beside her stood Layla.

And Zoey.

And Grace.

But also... someone else.

A shape he didn’t recognize at first - taller, shadowed, hair long and silver, skin pale and humming with light.

She was beautiful, but not human.

Not entirely.

Her eyes were solid gold, her lips full and dark, and her body shimmered faintly with the same essence that had coated them all the night before.

She stepped forward.

And the others dropped to their knees.

Even Rose.

Jude’s heart thudded in his chest.

He stood, naked and wet, the moss soft beneath his feet, and stared at the goddess now given form.

"You..." he began.

She tilted her head. "You opened the door."

Her voice was layered - dozens of voices in one, some male, some female, some ancient and wordless. It wasn’t just heard. It was felt. Like a chord struck through the soul.

"You were inside them."

"I was waiting. Until they were ready. Until you were."

He swallowed hard. "What happens now?"

Her eyes flicked toward the pool. "You loved. You let go. You surrendered."

He nodded slowly. "So what are you?"

Her smile was soft. "The part of you that you buried. The hunger you were told to shame. The power you feared. I’m not a god. I’m the truth of what you could be - unbroken."

She stepped closer.

He didn’t move.

Her fingers brushed his face, trailing to his lips, and down his chest. When she touched the mark Rose had drawn the night before, it ignited again - glowing like a coal under skin.

"You felt it," she whispered. "When Sophie sang. When Lucy opened. When Emma let you in. You all called me."

He exhaled slowly, the heat spreading down to his thighs.

She leaned in. Her breath was warm against his ear. "Do you want to know what it means to become more than a man?"