Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1315

Chapter 1315: Chapter 1315

Around them, the others moved slowly, sensually. Not out of urgency now, but out of reverence. Sophie lay across Zoey’s lap, her mouth open as Zoey fed her ripe fruit, juice dripping down her chin, her breasts rising and falling with lazy breaths. Grace and Stella were face to face, their bodies still wrapped in a cocoon of limbs and kisses. Scarlet and Susan bathed in the shallow pool beneath the altar tree, their laughter soft, erotic, made of steam and touch.

The keepers had not left.

They stood in a half-circle around the altar, their bodies coated in gold-lit sweat, their eyes never blinking, watching Jude with silent understanding. One of them stepped forward - tall, pale, with raven-dark hair that spilled over her breasts like ink. She knelt before him and pressed her forehead to the base of his spine.

He flinched, but she only breathed there. Deep. Slow.

"She’s listening," Rose said from the roots above, her voice like velvet in the night. "To the seed inside you. To the echo of what you gave."

The keeper looked up, eyes wet. "He’s not alone anymore."

"No," Emma said, kneeling beside her. "He never was. But now we can hear it."

"Hear what?" Jude asked, voice cracked and low.

"The pulse," Lucy answered softly, kissing his shoulder. "The same one that lives in us. It was always there. You just opened it."

He sat up, the movement slow, his limbs heavy like stone kissed by waves. The roots shifted beneath him, lifting his body slightly as if the island itself was helping him rise.

When he stood, the keepers bowed as one.

His wives did not.

They rose and came to him.

Susan first, her wet skin shimmering as she reached for him, took his hands, and brought them to her breasts. "We want more," she whispered. "Not because we’re empty. But because we’re full. "

Grace slid her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her body flush against him. "You planted something in all of us. And it’s blooming."

He could feel it.

Not just lust. Not just need.

But growth. Deep, slow, sensual. Like a thousand petals unfolding inside each of them.

Sophie stepped into the circle, her fingers already sliding between her thighs. "Touch me," she said. "Don’t fuck me yet. Just touch. I want to feel what you’ve become."

He obeyed.

His hand moved down her stomach, tracing the curve of her hip, sliding lower. Her breath caught the moment his fingers brushed her clit - like he’d struck a chord that vibrated through her bones. Her knees buckled, and Lucy caught her, guiding her gently to the mossy ground.

Jude knelt with them, stroking her slowly, tenderly.

Sophie writhed under his touch, moaning low and long, her legs parting wider. "It’s different," she gasped. "It’s... deeper. Like the island’s touching me through you."

He smiled, his fingers moving in perfect circles.

Sophie came with a sharp cry, her body arching. Lucy leaned down and kissed her mouth, absorbing the sound. Susan kissed Jude’s neck from behind, whispering praises in a language she didn’t know she knew.

Zoey pushed Jude back gently, straddling his thighs. "You gave your seed," she said, taking his hand and guiding it to her breast. "Now let us give back."

She ground against him, slow and clothed in heat. Her cunt was soaked, the slick heat of her making him hard again, impossible again.

Scarlet moved in, kissing his other side, while Natalie knelt between his legs, her mouth so close to his cock he could feel her breath. But she didn’t take him yet. She kissed his thighs. His hips. The base. Worshipping.

"You’re not a man anymore," she whispered. "You’re ours. A root. A tree. A god."

"No," Jude murmured. "I’m yours. That’s all."

And then Zoey lowered herself onto him.

She was tight and trembling, her body hugging his with a perfection that made them both gasp. She rode him slow, deliberate, her fingers tangling with Lucy’s as she leaned in to kiss her while moving. Natalie licked Jude’s chest, her tongue tracing the sweat, the muscle, the place where his heart pounded like thunder.

Around them, the wives circled.

Each touch became part of the rhythm.

Susan’s fingers in his hair.

Stella’s kiss on his shoulder.

Grace’s hand between Lucy’s thighs as she moaned.

It became a symphony of love and heat.

Zoey came hard on him, her whole body trembling as she collapsed forward. Scarlet took her place instantly, her lips on Jude’s neck, her hips moving fast, wild, reckless. She used him, moaning against his ear, whispering dirty, desperate things. When she came, she bit his neck, sobbing his name.

He spilled inside her, filling her, and she purred as she curled up beside him.

The night deepened.

But the light didn’t fade.

More vines curled around them, warm and alive.

The tree’s branches bent lower, heavy with fruit and nectar.

The keepers began to hum again.

The wives turned to one another, kissing, fingering, licking, needing more, always more. And Jude, still hard, still pulsing, was pulled back into their circle, taken again and again.

Until there were no names.

No moments.

Just heat.

Just pleasure.

Just worship.

And the pulse of the island blooming in every kiss, every moan, every drop.

By the time dawn bled pale gold into the sky, the entire grove was trembling with life. It wasn’t just the roots beneath them or the branches swaying with more awareness than wind could cause - it was the rhythm. Everything moved to it now. Jude lay beneath the canopy of tangled limbs, lips, and breath, his body claimed and re-claimed, not in conquest but in communion. He had been filled, emptied, worshipped, and reborn, and still the desire burned like sacred fire in his core.

Emma sat astride his waist, not moving, just resting her hands on his chest as she looked down at him. Her hair was damp with dew, her thighs streaked with the traces of all their shared pleasures. Her eyes were calm, but hungry.