Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1291

Chapter 1291: Chapter 1291

Her heart beat in perfect time with the stone. "The third," she whispered. "The deep." As she said it, the ground beneath them trembled - not violently, but rhythmically. Like breath rising from the earth. A crack appeared at the center of the circle, narrow and wet, pulsing open like the mouth of a lover. The women circled it instinctively, their movements slow, hypnotic. A scent rose from the opening - musk and heat and something ancient, a sweetness like skin after hours of sweat and moans. Sophie gasped and fell to her knees. "She’s under us. Inside us." The crack widened, and from it, steam poured upward, caressing thighs, sliding along spines. Jude moved forward, his cock hardening with every step. The air was thicker now, and each breath felt like it reached deeper into his lungs, into his chest, down into his groin. From the crack rose a figure - not glowing, not shining. She was dark, slick with moisture, her body naked and glistening with oil, eyes the color of soil. Her hair clung to her skin, long and black and heavy. She didn’t walk. She slithered upward, coiling her legs beneath her, resting on the edge of the crack like a serpent goddess birthed from the deep. "The aspect of root," Rose breathed. "Of submission. Of depth." The goddess said nothing. She reached forward and touched the ground with both hands, pressing her palms flat to the stone. And instantly, every woman dropped to their knees. Every single one. Jude’s knees buckled. He didn’t fall - but he trembled. The goddess looked up at him. Her lips parted. Her tongue slid across them slowly. And then she spoke. "Bury yourself in me." Jude stepped forward. The women watched, breathless. Rose kissed his hip as he passed. Zoey licked his thigh. Lucy ran her nails down his back. He reached the goddess. She lay back for him, legs parting slowly, revealing a core so wet it glistened in the golden light. Her scent hit him like a drug. He knelt between her thighs, his hands shaking. She cupped the back of his neck and pulled him down, guiding his mouth to her. She didn’t moan when his tongue touched her. She shuddered. So did the ground. So did the trees. Her taste was earthy, sharp, intoxicating. He licked slowly, deeply, sliding his tongue into her folds with reverence. She clenched around him like she was trying to pull his mouth deeper. Behind him, he could hear the others panting, moaning, touching themselves in rhythm with his movements. Sophie was the first to touch herself openly, two fingers sliding into her as Emma kissed her neck from behind. Grace followed, bent over with Layla between her legs. Stella rode Scarlet’s mouth like a woman possessed. The stone throbbed with every gasp. The goddess of root gripped Jude’s hair and bucked her hips. "More," she growled. He obeyed. His mouth moved faster, his tongue deeper. She arched beneath him, her thighs clenching around his ears, her cries low and savage. And when she came, she came like a quake. The stone cracked. The flowers shed their petals. The entire island seemed to lean inward. Jude was thrown back from the force of her release, landing on his back, panting, his mouth wet with her nectar. She sat up, eyes glowing black now, her mouth open in a satisfied smile. She straddled him. And rode him. Not with elegance, but with need. Her hips slammed against his with a wet, heavy rhythm that echoed through the clearing. Jude cried out, his hands gripping her thighs, but she was in control. She bounced harder. Faster. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air, timed perfectly with the gasps of the women watching. Lucy came beside him, screaming his name. Rose collapsed, twitching with orgasm. Zoey moaned into Layla’s mouth as she came too, wild and loud. The goddess slammed down one last time - and Jude came inside her with a roar. Her body arched. And she sank. Into the stone. Into the earth. Taking his seed into the roots. The crack sealed behind her, glowing faintly. The moss thickened. The vines coiled tighter around the circle. The flowers bloomed again - this time deep black, velvet soft, dripping with nectar. The stone was complete. The third had been received. And every woman trembled with the knowing. "The root," Rose whispered. "The fire. The light. All joined now." "And us," Lucy added. "We’re more than lovers now." Sophie knelt beside Jude, stroking his hair. "We’re the temple. The altar. The offering." He looked up at all of them - naked, glistening, powerful. "And the goddess?" Rose smiled. "She’s no longer watching." "She’s within us," Emma whispered. "And she’s not finished." The wind returned. And in the breeze, the hum began again. A new song. A new desire. A new ritual waiting to be born.

The song followed them into their sleep.

That night, they didn’t return to the treehouses. No one even suggested it. The clearing had become home. The stone beneath their feet now held the weight of three goddesses, three desires, and a dozen bodies marked by pleasure. Jude lay at the center, chest still rising unevenly, the scent of the root goddess clinging to his skin like oil. Around him, his wives curled in loose spirals - some holding one another, others sleeping alone, hands resting between their thighs or tucked beneath their cheeks like children. But they weren’t children anymore. They weren’t simply women, or even lovers. They were vessels now.

And the island knew it.

When Jude opened his eyes in the middle of the night, he found the trees glowing faintly violet, the vines overhead dripping with soft light like stars had gathered above them in strands. The stone pulsed against his spine. He reached up, blindly, and found Emma’s hand waiting for his. She was already awake, watching him. Her hair was a dark halo around her face, her lips swollen from kisses, her chest bare and rising slowly with her breath.