Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1420

Chapter 1420: Chapter 1420

He looked to the others - Lucy’s eyes glassy with love, Emma’s hand pressed to her heart, Sophie smiling with quiet pride, Zoey biting her lip like she already knew what was coming. They didn’t speak. They waited.

Jude brought the fruit to his mouth and bit.

It was sweet. Unbearably sweet. Like honey from the core of the world, thick and golden and filled with stars. Juice ran down his chin, and when he swallowed, everything changed.

The world fell away.

He wasn’t in the shrine anymore.

He stood beneath the massive tree Lucy had dreamed of - its roots woven into oceans, its branches stretched into galaxies. Beneath it stood the twelve women - his wives - naked, glowing, more beautiful than he’d ever seen them.

Rose stepped forward and touched his chest.

"You’re the bloom now."

The island opened around them.

And the song began again.

The song echoed not in sound, but in sensation - a vibration that rolled through Jude’s bones like thunder underwater, resonant and deep, calling not just to his body but to something even more ancient inside him. The tree above shimmered, leaves glowing with celestial light, as though each one carried a piece of a forgotten sky. The air hummed with power. And his wives - his twelve - moved toward him like gravity drawn into form.

He stood breathless in the heart of this impossible vision, golden juice still on his lips, the taste of the fruit saturating every breath. Rose reached him first. Her hands slid up his chest, warm and silken, her eyes glowing not gold, not black - but something in between. A blend. A balance.

"You’re blooming," she whispered, and her lips kissed his throat, his jaw, his mouth with reverence. Not lust, not hunger - but awe. "You’ve become."

Lucy stepped in behind him, pressing her body to his back, her arms curling around his waist as her mouth found his shoulder. "You’re not alone anymore."

One by one, they circled him. Layla with her fierce, hungry eyes. Zoey with her quiet fire. Grace with softness like dusk. Stella, lit from within, her fingers twining through his hair. Emma, trembling but steady. Natalie, wild and pulsing with curiosity. Sophie, firm and grounded, her lips brushing against his temple. Susan, serene, glowing like moonlight on the sea. Scarlet with her wicked grin, biting her lower lip as her hands slid down his sides. And finally, Serena, her eyes bright as dawn, reaching for his heart like she’d always known how to hold it.

Twelve bodies. Twelve souls. And him.

The thirteenth note.

The circle around him was heat, breath, rhythm. No words were spoken - only the soft gasps of flesh meeting flesh, the moan of skin against skin, the soft laughter that bubbled from lips that kissed without fear. They undressed him gently, reverently, as if peeling away the final layer of separation.

And when he was bare, they pressed close.

Their hands moved in concert. His back met Rose’s breasts. His lips met Emma’s. Scarlet’s fingers slid between his thighs while Lucy kissed his spine, and Stella’s mouth was already traveling lower, her tongue tracing ancient symbols into his hipbone.

He cried out as Layla’s mouth took him whole, not hungrily but slowly, with long, aching movements that made his knees buckle. They held him up - Zoey’s arms beneath his, Natalie’s chest flush against his back, Sophie’s hands gripping his hips. They held him, worshipped him, devoured and remade him in the same motion.

He spilled in Layla’s mouth, and she swallowed him with her eyes locked to his, fierce and satisfied.

But it wasn’t over.

The bloom had just begun.

Rose pushed him gently down to the moss-covered earth, cool and soft, petals of the massive tree drifting down around them. Jude lay there, chest heaving, arms spread. They climbed onto him - two at a time, four, six - touching, tasting, kissing him and each other, their limbs tangling until it became impossible to tell who moaned first.

Emma lowered herself onto him, slow and breathless, her nails raking across his chest, her hips grinding in slow, circular patterns. Scarlet rode his mouth, fingers in his hair, her voice like thunder every time she called his name. Stella kissed Emma as she moved, and Lucy kissed Scarlet’s spine.

The rhythm built like a drum, faster, tighter, hotter.

Jude groaned, every inch of him fire and pulse and need. They made love to him like waves on the shore - one crashing over the next, then retreating just long enough for the next to fall. When Emma came, her cry echoed into the canopy above, and the tree answered - its branches blooming with light.

Zoey was next, her thighs straddling his chest, her hands guiding his mouth where she needed it most. She gasped, hips jerking, and Rose pulled her back to kiss her deeply as Jude’s tongue brought her to a shuddering climax.

Lucy slid onto him next, and he clutched her hips like he’d drown without her. She bent low, her forehead pressed to his, whispering, "You were made for this. For us. For this island."

He came again, shaking beneath her, and she kissed him as she rocked through it, moaning into his mouth until her cries mingled with his.

It was wild. Sacred. Eternal.

They all came, and came again, as if time had collapsed and there was nothing left but pulse and skin and joy. When finally, finally, their bodies could no longer move, they lay tangled around him - limbs entwined, heads on chests, breath syncing like the rise and fall of waves.

The tree above shimmered once more.

A voice - not spoken, but felt - rose through the earth, into them, into him.

You are the bloom. You are the beginning.

Rose rested her head on his shoulder, her lips brushing his collarbone. "It’s only starting, Jude. We’ve unlocked something... more."

Sophie lifted her head, her eyes wide. "I felt it too. Like something else is waking up."

"The heart of the island," Emma whispered. "It’s been waiting for this. For us."