Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1313

Chapter 1313: Chapter 1313

Jude’s body ached in the most exquisite way - as if pleasure had carved itself into his muscles, into his spine, into the very rhythm of his breath. He sat slouched on the root throne, cock soft but twitching with memory, his skin glazed with sweat and cum and kisses. Around him, his wives lay tangled together in the aftermath of worship: some dozing, some lazily stroking one another, all of them glowing. Literally glowing now, as if the island had marked them with stardust and sap.

The root beneath his back pulsed gently, like a second heartbeat echoing his own. The tree was changing again. He could feel it. Something beneath the bark moved - coiling tighter, brighter, deeper. His hips still ached from Emma’s ride, but it wasn’t over. Not yet. Not close.

Thalia rose first.

Her steps were silent over the moss. Her body glistened, thighs shining, her lips still swollen and parted from her last climax. She came to him and straddled him with slow reverence, brushing the sweat from his chest.

"Rest," she whispered, pressing her forehead to his. "But do not close your eyes. You need to see what comes next."

He nodded, breath shallow.

She kissed his mouth gently - not a kiss of hunger, but of awakening.

Then she turned to the others. "The next wave begins."

The grove shifted. The wind picked up, not harsh but warm, fragrant. The roots stretched, unfolding part of the forest floor like opening a wound. From it came light. And from that light... women.

Twelve.

Each completely unique. Each naked. Each moving like they had known Jude in a hundred past lives.

The first was bronze-skinned and tall, her hair braided in golden cords. She walked straight to Grace and kissed her deeply, as if they were lovers reunited. Grace gasped into the kiss, then moaned as the woman slid to her knees between her thighs.

The second had eyes like frost and hair like midnight. She crawled to Zoey, licking her from knee to hip, then kissing her sex like she was tasting holy fruit.

The third went straight to Lucy, crawling into her lap, wrapping around her with a possessive hunger that made Lucy groan and grind against her before their mouths even met.

And still more came - one to Sophie, one to Stella, one to Scarlet.

Jude’s breath quickened.

Each of his wives now had a mirror - an equal, a match.

Only Emma remained apart. She stood at the altar’s edge, golden and perfect, watching Jude.

"They’re not replacements," she said quietly. "They’re amplifiers."

"Of what?"

"Desire," she murmured. "Love. Power. They’ll bring out what’s already in us. They’ll make it impossible to lie to ourselves anymore."

He swallowed. "Why now?"

"Because you’re ready."

Jude didn’t move. He watched as the bronze woman slid two fingers into Grace and sucked on her clit, making her sob and writhe in Stella’s lap. The midnight-haired one made Zoey cry out as she licked her expertly, fingers pinching her nipples. Lucy’s partner was grinding against her now, both moaning, rubbing each other’s soaked thighs as they kissed desperately.

It was worship again - but layered.

Emma climbed into Jude’s lap, not to ride him, but to hold him.

"They won’t come to you until you’re full again," she whispered, hand stroking his chest, trailing lower. "You need to fill one more of us. To complete the cycle."

"Who?" he asked.

She turned and nodded toward Sophie.

Sophie stood tall. Her eyes were calm, burning. She walked forward with slow certainty, unbothered by the bodies writhing around her. Her gaze never left his.

Jude’s cock stirred again.

Emma kissed his cheek and rose, giving Sophie her place.

Sophie said nothing as she straddled him.

She guided him into her with a single thrust, her body hot and tight, her breath catching. She didn’t moan. Didn’t whimper. She just stared into his eyes as she began to ride him with steady, rolling movements that made his blood sing.

"You’re not a god," she whispered.

He nodded.

"You’re ours."

He nodded again.

She leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep, her hips moving in an unbroken rhythm, wet sounds filling the space between their skin.

She clenched around him, drawing him deeper.

He groaned. "You’re so... fuck..."

She smiled faintly. "I know."

He came hard inside her, his cry swallowed by her mouth. She held him close as her own orgasm took her, a quiet, intense quake that made her shudder and cling to him.

The moment she collapsed into his chest, the air around them changed.

The new women turned - every single one of them.

And began crawling toward Jude.

Emma stepped in front of them. "One at a time."

The frost-eyed woman came first. She mounted Jude before he could recover, his cock still hard from Sophie, and rode him with a hunger that made him gasp. Her body was cold and hot at once - like fucking fire wrapped in snow.

When she came, she bit his shoulder, her cry like thunder.

Then the next.

And the next.

Twelve new bodies. Twelve new songs.

And he filled each one.

By the time the last sank down onto him, the entire grove was glowing. The roots throbbed. The altar moaned. The sky above had turned red-gold.

They lay across him, over him, beside him.

Jude lay still, used, worshipped, aching and full of love.

His cock still twitched.

And in the trees, more light began to bloom.

Twelve more.

The light from the trees pulsed like breath, deeper now, slower, as if the island itself had climaxed and lay in a moment of post-orgasmic stillness. The air was thick with scent - earth, skin, nectar, sweat. Jude’s body was heavy, his muscles trembling with a pleasure that bordered on pain, exhaustion curling through his limbs like vines. But he wasn’t done. The island wouldn’t let him be done.

Around him, the women moved in reverence and ease. Rose lay against one of the glowing roots, her body half-draped in vines that seemed to move with her breath.