Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1324

Chapter 1324: Chapter 1324

The sound echoed like a drumbeat made of breath, soft and rhythmic, pulsing through the trees in waves that matched the lingering throb in Jude’s body. He lay still, surrounded by his wives, their bare bodies tangled with his beneath the glow of the black tree. The golden blossoms above pulsed faintly, their light fading to a gentle shimmer, satisfied - for now.

But the island wasn’t done.

They all felt it. In the air, in the trembling of the moss, in the shift of wind that moved through the grove like a whisper too ancient to translate. Jude’s fingers twitched as he exhaled, and Rose stirred beside him, her lips trailing across his chest.

"You feel it, don’t you?" she murmured.

He nodded. "Another tree."

"Another gate," Grace whispered from where she rested her cheek against Jude’s thigh. "It’s calling."

"Not for us," Emma said, propped on one elbow. "Not yet."

"No," Zoey agreed. "It’s for him. Again."

Jude sat up slowly, the glow in his veins still burning low but steady, like an ember waiting for breath. His body ached - not from pain, but from too much pleasure, too much giving. And still, when he looked at his wives - naked, flushed, wet and warm and watching - he felt himself respond.

He was changed.

The island had taken him further than he thought possible.

And now it wanted more.

Sophie stood first, silent and graceful. She walked to the edge of the grove, her body gleaming with streaks of gold, and turned back toward them. "It’s not just calling Jude," she said. "It’s testing all of us."

Natalie stood next. "Then we go. Together."

Rose nodded, rising. "But not clothed."

Jude blinked. "Why?"

"Because we belong to it now," she answered. "Skin is the offering. Our pleasure is the ritual."

Without hesitation, the wives followed.

Naked and glorious, they moved into the forest.

Jude followed them, his arousal still growing in slow, impossible pulses. He walked behind Emma, watching the sway of her hips, the way the moss clung to her calves, the scratch of leaves across her thighs. The island didn’t seem to resist them anymore. It opened, vines parting, mist rising like silk.

They reached a new clearing.

In the center stood a second black tree - larger than the first, its bark glistening with golden sap, its roots stretching wide. It was already blooming. And beneath it, a pool of water shimmered, lit from below by something unseen.

The moment they stepped into the clearing, the air changed.

Wet.

Sweet.

Desperate.

The island’s hunger pressed against their skin like heat from a fire. Every breath tasted like sex, like longing, like sweat and salt and sweetened moans. The petals from the tree fell slowly, drifting down onto their bodies, melting into skin and flesh with warmth that made them tremble.

Jude’s cock ached again, thick and heavy and harder than it had ever been. The wives circled him slowly, like dancers preparing for a sacred rite.

"Who goes first?" Stella whispered.

But none of them moved.

Instead, Lucy stepped behind Jude, her arms slipping around his waist. "All of us," she said, her breath warm against his neck. "Together."

Rose stepped forward and lowered herself onto the moss, parting her legs.

"Lie down," she said to Jude.

He obeyed.

The moss was warmer here, pulsing beneath his back, as though it recognized him. The moment he lay down, Lucy kissed him. Long, slow, and possessive. Her lips curled against his, and she moaned into his mouth as she straddled his chest, her folds slick and swollen.

Rose crawled between his legs again, and this time she didn’t hesitate. She guided his cock to her entrance and sank onto him in one smooth motion, her breath catching, her hands splayed on his thighs.

Above him, Lucy rocked her hips over his chest, grinding her wetness against his skin, using him as a pillow of heat and strength. Her moans became sharper, matching the rhythm Rose built below.

Stella and Sophie knelt beside them, their fingers teasing Lucy’s breasts, kissing her neck, their mouths moving from one curve to the next. Susan and Scarlet lay beside Jude, kissing him, stroking his arms, his face, his sides. Emma slipped behind Rose, gripping her waist and matching her rhythm with rocking thrusts of her own hips, like the pleasure passed between them.

Zoey kissed Natalie.

Grace kissed Zoey.

Their bodies moved in layers, a wave of heat and sound and sensation building on all sides. Jude lost track of who touched him, who kissed him, who came first - only that the heat didn’t stop, the pulsing didn’t fade.

He came inside Rose again, and she sobbed against his stomach, her body twitching with release.

Lucy followed seconds later, crying out as Sophie licked her from behind.

But no one stopped.

The wives took turns on him - Natalie next, riding him slow and deep, her body shuddering. Then Grace, eyes locked on his as she sank onto him, whispering his name like a prayer. Then Zoey, wild and ravenous, clawing at his chest as she fucked him, coming again and again as he filled her.

They drank his pleasure.

But they gave it back, too.

Every kiss.

Every moan.

Every climax shared.

It was never about possession - it was about worship.

Emma came last.

She didn’t ride him.

She lay beside him, kissed his lips, and whispered, "You’re not alone."

Then she took his hand, placed it between her thighs, and guided his fingers until she was trembling beside him. Her moans filled the clearing, and when she came, the tree above them bloomed in a sudden burst of light.

The pool at its base began to glow.

The second gate had opened.

Jude sat up slowly, covered in their scent, still hard, still burning.

The water shimmered brighter now, glowing like gold set aflame.

Rose smiled, curling against him. "The island is ready."

"For what?" he asked, his voice raw.

"For us," she whispered. "All of us. Together."

They entered the pool as one.

Naked.

Spent.

Full of each other.

And the island welcomed them.