Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1319

Chapter 1319: Chapter 1319

So hard it ripped a sound from his throat he didn’t know he could make. His body arched, pulsed, emptied - but not just into Natalie. Into the altar. Into the island. He felt it being absorbed, carried, echoed.

The women cried out as they felt it too - every one of them gasping, shaking, their bodies connected in waves of shared release.

When it ended, they collapsed around him, a circle of heat and pulse and love.

No one spoke.

No one needed to.

They were one.

And the island bloomed.

The air shimmered with heat and scent, thick with the afterglow of release and the deeper magic that pulsed beneath it. Jude could barely move. Not because he was weak, but because he was full - so impossibly full of everything. Their breaths. Their bodies. Their desire. The rhythm of the island now lived inside his bones. It beat in time with his heart. It hummed in his blood like a second pulse.

Around him, his wives lay entangled in moss and vine and one another. Natalie was still curled against his chest, her thighs sticky with their mingled pleasure, her face buried in his neck, lips warm and damp. Grace pressed herself into his side, her fingers tracing circles on his ribs, legs twined with his like ivy. Lucy had fallen asleep half across his legs, her fingers still wrapped gently around his spent cock, like she couldn’t bear to let him go.

Sophie sat upright, naked and alert, watching the tree’s glow. Her lips parted in awe as the dark bark shimmered, its petals curling inward like it was breathing.

"It’s not just watching us anymore," she whispered.

"It’s feeding," Emma said from behind her. She was on her knees, arms stretched toward the canopy. "Off of what we gave. Off of him ."

Jude tried to sit up, but Rose pushed him gently back down, her touch tender, almost amused.

"Not yet," she murmured, straddling his waist. "You’ve done enough for now."

He was already growing hard again beneath her.

She smiled. "Of course you are."

Her body slid down onto him like he was her throne. There was no resistance - only wet heat, welcoming and hot and aching. He gasped, and her hands flattened on his chest as she began to move slowly, rocking with slow, deliberate control.

The others stirred. Their bodies lifted like flowers to sun. They watched. They touched each other. They whispered.

Rose fucked him like he was a promise she’d waited lifetimes to fulfill. Her breasts bounced with each grind, her breath catching on every roll of her hips. She held his gaze, didn’t blink, didn’t look away. She wanted him to feel it. Not just the physical. The rest of it.

"You’re not just ours," she said, voice low, lips brushing his. "You’re its . You’re the vessel."

He moaned. Her pace quickened.

"The island wants you the way we do. Not for one moment. But forever. It sings to you now."

He could hear it - the hum beneath her voice, beneath their cries. The rhythm. The song.

He was the final note.

Rose cried out as she came, her entire body trembling, her nails digging into his chest. Her pussy clenched around him again and again, and the moment she stilled, Sophie moved to replace her.

No hesitation.

No words.

Just hunger.

Sophie lowered herself onto his soaked cock, moaning loudly as she sank down to the hilt. Her back arched, her thighs trembled, and her fingers gripped his shoulders like a lifeline.

"You’re mine," she said breathlessly.

"I’m yours," he whispered, and she rode him fiercely, her eyes wild, her breasts bouncing with every thrust.

The others moved closer.

Emma lay beside him, kissing his jaw, his ear, whispering filth he never expected from her mouth. Stella and Grace touched Sophie as she rode him, brushing her nipples, kissing her throat. Natalie and Lucy kissed each other, their hands on each other’s slick thighs, watching Jude fuck another wife with reverence and lust.

Zoey crouched near his head, kissed him hard. "Don’t stop."

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Sophie tightened around him and screamed his name as she came, and Jude let go again, releasing into her with a force that felt holy.

She collapsed against his chest, panting, trembling.

And still he was hard.

Scarlet’s turn.

She didn’t speak at all. Just climbed atop him and began to ride. Jude’s breath hitched - her body felt tighter, hotter, like she’d been waiting longest. Her rhythm was slow, sensual, every movement dragging out the pleasure until he felt like he was going to explode.

She rode him until his vision blurred.

Until the moss beneath him pulsed.

Until the tree above them bloomed one final time.

Then, when he couldn’t take more - when every nerve had fired and refired - she bent down and whispered in his ear.

"You’re ready."

The altar responded.

The roots curled upward.

The moss bloomed beneath him.

A golden light radiated from the tree, pouring over all of them, soaking into their skin like sun and honey. They weren’t just making love anymore.

They were becoming.

Jude cried out, his orgasm more than release - transcendence. It roared through him like fire, like light, like the sound of the universe unfolding.

And every wife came with him.

Together.

All at once.

Their moans overlapped into a single, endless sound that echoed through the trees, down to the river, across the entire island. The vines tightened, then loosened. The petals above released a final burst of shimmering light.

Then silence.

Utter, perfect silence.

The glow faded, dimming to a soft, pulsing warmth.

And the women curled around Jude again, holding him, kissing him, murmuring love into every inch of skin. He felt hands brushing through his hair, lips on his chest, thighs pressed to his sides.

They weren’t twelve women anymore.

They were one.

And he was the center.

The vessel.

The source.

The god.

Night came gently, a velvet hush that seemed to caress the canopy and soften every breath.