Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1320

Chapter 1320: Chapter 1320

Night came gently, a velvet hush that seemed to caress the canopy and soften every breath. The stars above blinked through the tree gaps, but even they felt closer now - more intimate, more aware. Jude lay in the center of the moss altar, a tangle of bodies around him, skin against skin, limbs draped across his chest and thighs, soft sighs threading through the warm air like sacred incense.

He didn’t remember falling asleep. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe sleep was irrelevant now. His body didn’t ache, though it should have. It felt charged, alive, like the rhythm they had created still lived inside his blood. The forest was pulsing in time with his heart.

Emma stirred first, the soft curve of her breast pressing to his ribs as she turned and looked up at him. Her lips, swollen and still glistening, parted in a sleepy smile. "You didn’t break," she whispered.

"I thought I would," he murmured, brushing her hair back.

"You’re not just a man anymore," she said, kissing his chest. "You’re what we made you."

Sophie rolled over, her arm wrapping around Jude’s waist. "What it made him," she corrected. "We were only the conduits."

Lucy shifted closer, her leg sliding possessively over his hip. "He was always the center. We just helped him remember."

The others were waking too - Grace nuzzling into his shoulder, Zoey stretching like a cat across his feet, Scarlet kissing the inside of his wrist. Susan, Natalie, and Stella curled into each other nearby, their bodies glowing faintly in the low starlight.

Rose stood at the edge of the altar, the black tree looming behind her. She was naked, but her skin shimmered with thin lines of gold, like the island had drawn runes along her body while they slept.

"It’s not finished," she said.

Jude looked at her, heart already racing.

"You thought this was the climax," she continued, stepping barefoot across the moss. "But this was only the first opening. The first unlocking. Now we begin again."

Sophie sat up slowly, naked and proud, her skin damp with sweat and moonlight. "How many openings are there?"

"As many as the island needs," Rose answered. "It’s hungry. And now that it has you - " she looked down at Jude, a smile tugging at her lips " - it will keep blooming."

The vines moved under them.

Jude gasped as a soft tendril brushed his inner thigh. More vines rose from the moss, not binding, not restraining - just touching. Stroking. Exploring.

Lucy moaned softly as one slid along her spine. "It’s like it’s flirting with us."

Natalie arched her back as another coiled around her ankle and trailed up her leg. "No," she breathed. "It’s asking for more."

The women looked at each other - no fear, no shame - just heat and knowing. The same wild instinct that had driven them to worship Jude was blooming again, this time hotter, deeper, more primal.

Jude sat up.

They surrounded him, kneeling, crawling, touching. Hands on his chest, his thighs, his cock. Lips pressing to his neck, his stomach, his hips. They didn’t take turns. They shared him. Mouths overlapping, fingers tangling. Lucy kissed him as Zoey sucked him slowly, her tongue lazy and deliberate, while Emma moaned against his chest, her breasts crushed to him.

"I want him first," Scarlet whispered, climbing into his lap.

"You had him last," Zoey growled, but her voice was playful, lustful.

"There is no first," Rose murmured, stepping close, her fingers stroking Jude’s jaw. "He is infinite now. And so are we."

Scarlet sank onto him with a sigh so soft and full of longing it made his vision blur. Her pussy was wet, warm, and tight. She began to move, slow and hard, grinding him into the moss, her nails raking down his back.

Susan kissed her as she rode him, their tongues tangled, their moans joined. Lucy pressed against Jude’s back, whispering filthy praise into his ear. Emma and Grace knelt on either side of him, stroking his thighs, kissing his arms, breasts brushing his skin.

Scarlet gasped. "I can’t - He’s too - "

She came with a scream, clenching hard around him. But Jude didn’t stop. He didn’t soften. When Scarlet slid off, panting, Sophie took her place.

No hesitation.

She straddled him, sunk down with a hungry cry, and rode him fast and fierce, her hands braced on his shoulders. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, her eyes never leaving his.

"You’re mine," she growled, biting his lip.

"All of yours," he gasped, gripping her waist.

She came hard, bucking and trembling, collapsing into his chest.

And then Emma mounted him, gentle but insistent. Her body was soft and slick, her thighs trembling from the start. She held his face as she rode him, kissed him as she moved, like she needed to fuse herself to him completely.

They came together, bodies shaking, breaths shared.

But the need didn’t end.

Stella. Natalie. Susan. Lucy. Each wife climbed on, used him, loved him, worshiped him. His cock stayed hard, insatiable, powered by something not entirely human. The vines pulsed in rhythm. The island sang louder. Their moans became music, their pleasure a spell.

Rose watched.

And when Jude had filled every wife again - body, soul, womb - she finally stepped forward and knelt.

The forest held its breath.

She straddled him with slow grace, sinking down onto him with a sound so deep and desperate it echoed through the trees. Jude held her hips as she moved, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths perfectly synced.

Rose kissed him, slow and aching. "This is the moment it all changes."

And when she came, the tree above them split.

Not breaking - but opening.

A new blossom unfurled, vast and glowing.

From it, golden light spilled like dawn reborn.

And in that light, Jude saw visions.

Children.

A temple of vines.

A circle of lovers.

And a throne made of roots.

The island was giving them a future.

And they were making it with every thrust. Every kiss. Every scream.

And it was only beginning.