Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1432

Chapter 1432: Chapter 1432

He turned to them, breath catching as each of them stepped closer - not in seduction now, but in worship. Each of them reached for him with reverent hands, touching his shoulders, his chest, his face. Their love didn’t burn this time - it soothed. And yet, it aroused in a way that defied the laws of lust.

Sophie stepped behind him, her hands on his waist. Lucy pressed her lips to his spine. Emma’s fingers slid down his arms. Stella knelt and kissed his thighs. Grace’s mouth brushed his shoulder. They adored him. They honored him.

And when Rose placed her hand over his heart, everything shifted.

"You are not the last note," she whispered. "You are the first."

The pool behind him rippled.

A platform rose from its center - moss-covered, warm, shaped like a bed of vines.

Jude walked to it as if in trance, and lay upon it. The women circled him, their bodies glowing, their eyes filled with desire and devotion. And then they climbed onto the platform.

One by one.

Not to take him.

To offer themselves.

Scarlet was first. She kissed every inch of his body, her mouth slow and savoring. She straddled him, guiding him inside her with a gasp that echoed through the chamber. She rode him with a rhythm that wasn’t her own - it was the island’s. She climaxed with a cry that shook the walls.

Then Layla. Her lips were soft, her moans like prayer. She made love to him with eyes locked to his, whispering his name until she shuddered against him, her body glowing bright.

Then Grace. Then Stella. Then Susan. Then Natalie.

Each one worshiped him.

Each one was worshiped in return.

And when Lucy climbed atop him, the vines around them bloomed.

Flowers opened.

Light poured from the roots above.

And she kissed him with every ounce of who she was.

She didn’t move fast. She rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, her forehead pressed to his, her eyes filled with tears and love and awe. Jude felt her soul meet his.

They came together, shaking, clinging, moaning through clenched teeth.

And then she collapsed into his arms.

The others gathered around, curling against his sides, their breathing shallow and sated.

Rose stood above them, smiling.

"You’ve become," she said.

Jude closed his eyes.

And the island exhaled.

The breath of the island moved through them like a pulse, slow and tidal, a rhythm older than memory. Jude lay cradled in warmth - naked skin, beating hearts, tangled hair and soft gasps that hadn’t yet faded. The vines beneath the platform shifted gently, like they were rocking them, rocking him , as if he were a newborn in the arms of something divine. The chamber inside the great tree glowed low now, golden like embers under silk, and every inch of his body hummed with lingering pleasure, aching not from exhaustion, but from fulfillment.

No one spoke.

There were only touches - gentle, lingering, reverent. Lucy’s head rested on his chest, her fingers lazily drawing circles around his navel. Stella was pressed to his left, her lips occasionally brushing his shoulder. Grace curled against his right, humming under her breath, something soft and wordless, like the echo of the island’s own voice. Around them, the others drifted in and out of sleep, their bodies tangled in comfort and trust.

Rose remained standing.

She moved now, slowly stepping down from the roots above, her body fluid and unhurried, the light playing across her curves like water across polished stone. Her eyes were softer now - still deep, still glowing faintly - but filled with something more human. Love. Understanding. And something new: certainty.

She knelt beside Jude, her hand sliding up his chest, over Lucy’s shoulder. Jude looked up at her and didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. Their gazes locked, and for a long moment, time didn’t exist. There was no island. No fear. No corruption or transformation or loss.

There was only Rose.

She leaned down and kissed him.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t hungry. It was pure. Her lips pressed to his with the weight of every night they’d ever shared, every secret whispered in the dark, every promise made with breath and skin. She tasted like honey and fire and the wind through wild trees. She tasted like home.

When she pulled back, her voice was soft. "Do you understand now?"

Jude swallowed. "Not fully."

"You will," she whispered. "It’s not about becoming something else. It’s about remembering what we always were."

He reached up and touched her cheek. "Are we still... us?"

She leaned into his touch. "More than ever."

Around them, the others stirred. Zoey stretched and yawned, her hand finding Natalie’s and lacing their fingers together. Emma rolled over, her lips curving in a sleepy smile as she pressed her face into Susan’s neck. Sophie sat up slowly, her back straight, her eyes alert. She was always the watcher, the protector, the one who asked the questions no one dared say aloud.

Sophie’s gaze landed on Rose.

"Is it over?" she asked.

Rose shook her head. "It’s just beginning."

Zoey sat up now too. "Then what happens next?"

Rose turned to Jude. "He decides."

They all looked at him then.

Eleven women - lovers, warriors, companions, soulmates - waiting not for a command, but for a choice. His choice.

Jude sat up slowly, pulling Lucy with him, his arms wrapped protectively around her waist. He looked at them all - each face so familiar, each expression filled with desire and devotion and a question unspoken.

"I don’t want to lose who we were," he said. "I don’t want to forget how we fought to survive, how we built everything with our hands, how we loved each other before all this started."

"You won’t," Rose said. "The island doesn’t erase. It adds."

"But the song," Sophie said. "The humming. The dreams. The way you all changed - it wasn’t just addition. It was... surrender."

Rose smiled gently. "Surrender isn’t loss. Sometimes it’s how we remember how to be whole."