Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1337

Chapter 1337: Chapter 1337

He stood quietly and stepped away from the sleeping circle. The flower at the center of the moss pulsed as he passed, its soft glow casting a shimmer over his skin. He touched its petals lightly. It was warm, pliant, living. It beat like a heart. His fingers came away glowing faintly, silver dust settling on his palm like sacred ash.

The beach was still. The water lapped quietly. He walked the shoreline, letting his thoughts stretch like the tide. Everything felt full - his body, his mind, his soul. But not overwhelmed. Not burdened.

Enlightened.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked, but eventually a presence stirred beside him.

Sophie.

She padded barefoot across the sand, wearing only a thin wrap of mossy cloth that clung to her curves. "You’re thinking too loud," she said with a faint smirk.

He smiled, slowed, and let her fall into step beside him. "Just... letting it settle."

She walked with him in silence for a while, the sea brushing their feet. Then she asked, "Do you believe it now? That this is real?"

"I think I do," he said. "But it’s still terrifying."

"Good. That means you haven’t lost yourself in it."

He looked at her, at the soft defiance in her eyes, the fire that still hadn’t dimmed even after all they’d been through. "You haven’t changed."

"I have," she said. "Just not like the others. I still remember how it felt to question everything. To want to run."

"But you stayed."

She stopped and turned to face him. "Because I love you. Because I love them. And because the only thing scarier than surrendering to the island... was losing all of you."

He reached out, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "You keep me grounded."

She leaned into the touch, then smiled. "Then let me remind you who you are."

Their mouths met softly - no urgency, no fire, just heat slowly building like the tide climbing the shore. Jude pulled her close, his hands exploring the familiar curves of her waist, her hips, the small of her back. She sighed into him, her fingers sliding into his hair.

He lay her down in the sand, the sky above them blushing with morning. She spread her legs around his hips, her thighs brushing his sides, her breath catching as he pressed himself into her slowly, reverently.

Sophie moaned low, wrapping her arms around his back, anchoring him as he thrust gently. Her body met his with knowing rhythm, her eyes locked on his, and he saw her - truly saw her - in that moment. All her strength. All her fear. All her love.

"You’re mine," she whispered. "And I’m yours. Always."

He kissed her deeply in answer, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her into each movement. The sand clung to their skin, cool against the fire building between them. She arched beneath him, breathless, the pleasure rising steadily, cresting like a wave.

When she came, it was quiet, a tremor that rolled through her and into him, making him spill inside her with a groan, their bodies shuddering together, caught in something deeper than lust.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the dawn light, her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing shapes on his chest.

"We’re still us," she said softly.

He kissed the top of her head. "Yeah. We are."

They returned to the circle of bodies as the sun crested the horizon. The others were stirring, stretching, smiling in that slow, lazy way that came with peace and satisfaction. Lucy sat up and watched them return, her eyes full of knowing. She rose to meet them, kissed Sophie gently, then kissed Jude longer.

"You both smell like the ocean and each other," she murmured.

Sophie smiled against her. "Good."

Emma pulled Lucy into her lap and nuzzled her neck. "What now?"

Jude looked out at the flower, at the roots spreading farther across the sand. "We build."

Zoey yawned, rubbing her eyes. "Build what?"

"A life," Rose said from behind him. "Not a home. A life."

They stood together, all thirteen of them, and watched the sun rise.

And then they began.

By midday, the clearing near the beach had changed. The vines, attuned now to their will, helped raise soft platforms from the ground. Fronds stitched together into sheltering canopies, and the mossy bed beneath the bloom grew thicker, wider, shaped by their touch. They worked in harmony - no arguments, no division. Everyone knew what to do, as though the island whispered instructions through instinct.

Grace and Natalie gathered smooth stones from the river and lined them in elegant spirals near the root lines. Susan and Stella created braided paths of sand and shell, marking sacred spaces for gathering and resting. Emma and Lucy sang while they worked, their voices weaving a melody that encouraged the trees to bow inward and offer shade.

Sophie and Zoey wove netting for hammocks. Layla drew symbols in the dirt with Rose, sacred patterns that pulsed softly once completed. Jude moved between them all, offering hands, kisses, and praise, his heart swelling with something more than love.

It was belonging.

It was becoming.

That night, they feasted on fruits they hadn’t seen before - new blooms, sweeter than honey, tart and energizing. The vines delivered them in woven baskets, as if understanding the celebration.

And when the stars returned, brighter than ever, they made love again - not in frenzy this time, but in worship. They took turns. They touched slowly. They whispered truths and licked moans from one another’s mouths. They fell asleep between orgasms, in laps and arms and mouths, only to wake and begin again.

It was not a ritual.

It was communion.

When the third day came, the bloom opened wider, and from its center grew a new fruit.

Glowing brighter.

Rose cupped it in her hands. "There will be others."

"What do we do with them?" Jude asked.

"We plant them," she said.

"Where?"

She looked at the horizon. "Everywhere."

They were no longer just survivors.

They were sowers.

And the island was just beginning.