Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1317

Chapter 1317: Chapter 1317

"It’s not just in us anymore," Emma added. She sat nearby with her legs curled beneath her, hands pressed to the ground as if trying to feel the island’s pulse. "It’s spreading. The whole island feels... alive. Breathing."

Sophie knelt at Jude’s side, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. Her touch lingered, reverent. "It’s not just alive," she whispered. "It’s listening."

And the tree responded.

A slow creak, deep and resonant, vibrated through the grove. The trunk of the black tree pulsed faintly, and more blossoms unfurled along the branches, each one exhaling scent so heady it made Jude dizzy. The moss beneath him shimmered faintly, growing softer, more vivid, like the ground itself was purring beneath their bodies.

Then Rose stepped forward from the circle of keepers. She was radiant - her skin kissed with gold, her eyes glowing softly, and her smile no longer eerie, but utterly serene.

"You’ve crossed," she said.

Jude turned his head, heart thudding. "Crossed what?"

"The threshold," she replied. "You didn’t just give yourself to us. You gave yourself to the island. It knows you now. Loves you. Needs you."

He sat up slowly, feeling the weight of her words. Around them, his wives listened, their bodies still close, their fingers interlaced, as if separation was no longer possible.

Rose stepped closer. She was completely nude, but there was nothing human in the way she carried herself anymore. She was earth and fire, root and bloom, woman and spirit. She reached out and placed her hand on Jude’s chest. "You’ve planted more than seed. You’ve planted presence. Now it will grow."

"Into what?" Jude asked, voice hoarse.

Rose’s smile deepened. "A kingdom."

That word struck something deep inside him.

Around the tree, the keepers began to move again - not with the heat of desire this time, but with purpose. They circled the altar, planting glowing seeds into the moss, pressing their hands to the earth in patterns, whispering words that made the vines rise and twist into small structures - arches, columns, cradles of flowering limbs.

Grace stood, naked and glowing, and walked to a new arch woven from blooming roots. She turned back toward them, her hair wild, eyes soft. "Come see."

Jude rose slowly. His body was exhausted, yet humming with vitality, like he’d been remade from every kiss, every stroke, every moan.

He stepped through the arch.

On the other side, the grove expanded into a hidden chamber, almost temple-like in its symmetry. The roots had formed walls that pulsed with soft light, and at the center was a raised platform draped in moss, petals, and silk-like vines.

It wasn’t just beautiful.

It was throne-like.

Sophie whistled softly. "Is that for you?"

"No," Emma said, stepping closer. "It’s for all of us."

The rest of the wives followed, one by one, bare feet kissing the glowing moss, bodies still glistening from their rites. They gathered around the platform, hands brushing against walls, lips against shoulders, necks, hips.

"Lay down," Rose whispered.

Jude obeyed without thinking. The platform took his weight easily, vines curling up around his arms, legs, hips, not binding him - but cradling him.

Then the women climbed onto the platform.

Not one. Not two.

All of them.

First Lucy, straddling his chest and lowering her mouth to his. Then Zoey, kissing his stomach, biting softly. Grace and Stella came next, lips on his thighs, hands stroking every part of him. Emma lay beside him, wrapping her fingers around his cock, whispering filthy, beautiful things in his ear.

They didn’t take turns anymore.

They moved as one.

A worship.

A claiming.

A celebration.

Sophie kissed his lips as Lucy rode his mouth, moaning his name. Susan and Natalie stroked his chest and thighs while Rose guided Emma onto him, her hands firm, her eyes wild.

Emma cried out as he entered her again, riding him with a hunger that came from somewhere beyond the body. She leaned back against Rose, who kissed her throat, whispering encouragement as Emma fucked Jude with grinding, exquisite rhythm.

Scarlet kissed Emma’s breasts, her fingers stroking Jude’s balls.

He was gasping now - each movement, each touch was pleasure layered on pleasure, wrapped in scent and sound and heat. The vines cradled him tighter, pulsing with the rhythm of their movement, the song rising again in the air - soft, slow, thick with desire.

He came inside Emma.

Again.

And she trembled, crying out, her nails digging into his chest.

But before he could rest, Grace took her place. Then Lucy. Then Sophie. They rode him, one after another, not with urgency but with intimacy - each one using him to write herself into the rhythm of the island.

His mind drifted.

He couldn’t tell when one orgasm ended and another began. His body no longer obeyed the rules he once knew. He was a vessel of pleasure, of energy, and each wife poured herself into him as much as she took.

Zoey licked his ear, whispering, "You’re the root now. We grow from you."

Susan kissed his shoulder. "And you’ll never be alone again."

Natalie moaned against his mouth. "Not in this life. Not in the next."

Rose slid her body along his side, pressing her breasts to his arm, her thigh between his. "Sleep now," she whispered. "Let it settle. Let it bloom."

He came again, this time into Sophie, her cry echoing like a bell through the grove.

And then finally - still pulsing, still glowing - he let his eyes close.

Wrapped in bodies.

Surrounded by love.

Cradled by the island.

And the song continued, slower now, richer - no longer a calling, but a lullaby.

Something had begun.

And it would never stop.

When Jude opened his eyes, the sky above the treetop canopy had shifted to a molten gold, stained with amber streaks and deep orange fire. The light wasn’t just sunset - it was something older, something sacred. The forest shimmered with the residue of touch and breath, heavy with musk and sweetness, like the very air was laced with the echo of moans.