Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1438

Chapter 1438: Chapter 1438

At dawn, the light broke differently. It didn’t pierce through the trees with its usual pale gold - it glowed from within them, as though the trunks had drunk in the night’s secrets and now exhaled radiance. The clearing shimmered softly with dew that sparkled like tiny stars, and the leaves above barely stirred, as if not to wake the sacred stillness they all now belonged to.

Jude woke slowly, his body warm beneath the tangle of limbs and blankets. Lucy’s leg was still hooked around his, her breath slow and even. Emma’s hand rested over his heart, and Rose’s fingers were woven through his hair, possessive and tender even in sleep. Around him, the others shifted gently, sighing, stirring, not waking fully but drawn toward consciousness like petals slowly turning toward the sun.

He stayed still, soaking it in - the peace, the unity, the way their bodies fit like pieces of something divinely shaped. He didn’t know what they had become, but he no longer feared it. The island wasn’t a threat. It was a mirror, and they had chosen to see.

Sophie stirred first. She propped herself up on one elbow, her hair a soft halo, her eyes searching his. "You didn’t dream?" she asked softly.

"I did," Jude said. "But it didn’t feel like dreaming. It felt like remembering."

Her fingers brushed his cheek. "I saw you. In the forest. With them."

He didn’t flinch. "And?"

"You looked like you belonged."

"I think I did."

Sophie exhaled, then leaned down and kissed him. Not possessively, not out of need or dominance - but softly, reverently. "Then show me. Show us. "

By the time the sun reached its full height, they were already moving. The grove called again - not with urgency, but with inevitability. Their feet knew the way. No one led; no one followed. They walked as one. Twelve women and one man, barefoot and bare-hearted, trailing through the woods like something holy.

When they reached the grove, the stone still glowed faintly, but it wasn’t the center anymore.

They were.

Rose stepped into the clearing and raised her arms slightly. The others spread out around her in a wide circle, their feet sinking gently into the moss. Jude stood in the center again, but this time not alone. Lucy came first, pressing her body against his from behind, her arms winding around his waist, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades. Emma followed, facing him, her eyes molten with desire and understanding. Sophie joined too, pressing against his side, and then the others filled in, not to crowd, but to complete.

They undressed each other with ceremony, not haste. Cloth fell like petals. Skin greeted skin with reverent touch. Jude’s breath caught as Zoey knelt and brushed her lips down his abdomen, not to claim, but to worship. Stella kissed his spine, slow and sure. Natalie took his hand, guiding it to her breast as if reminding him they were already his.

And then they began again.

Not just passion.

Not just heat.

But ritual.

Sophie was first this time, sliding onto his lap as he lay back against the moss. Her hips rolled with purpose, her eyes locked with his. Around them, the others moved - stroking, kissing, chanting softly in the same hum the island had first sung into them. Grace and Stella made love in tandem nearby, their sighs harmonizing with Sophie’s moans. Susan and Emma touched each other with the patience of artists painting each other’s pleasure. Lucy straddled Jude’s face as Sophie rode him, her fingers tight in his hair, her gasps drawing fire through his veins.

They rotated - again and again - not in frenzy, but in flow. Every woman took her place atop him, around him, within the spiral of their joined hearts and mouths and limbs. Each orgasm built upon the last, not wiping it away but layering it, until the air itself felt thick with heat and unity. Jude lost track of time. Of motion. He was everywhere - inside Rose as she clenched around him, his mouth devouring Natalie’s trembling cries, his hand gripping Zoey’s thigh as she shuddered, bent backward over his lap. Every moment layered with the last. A braid of ecstasy.

And then, in the center of it all - Sophie again.

Her body slick, her eyes wild and clear, she took him one last time and held nothing back. Their bodies crashed together like waves. She screamed his name into the sky, and he poured himself into her with a groan that shook the trees.

The moment they collapsed - spent, breathless, tangled - the earth beneath them pulsed once.

Then again.

And then the stone burst with light.

Not fire. Not flame.

Life.

A tree sprouted from the center.

Small, dark, glowing faintly violet at the tips of its delicate leaves. Its roots twined through the stone, up through the moss, wrapping gently around the lovers without binding them. A gift. A marker.

They had created something.

Together.

Lucy sat up slowly, her body still shivering. "It’s alive."

"So are we," Emma whispered.

Rose leaned back on her elbows, her face flushed, her thighs trembling. "It’s begun."

Jude could only nod. His chest heaved. His lips were raw from kisses. His skin still hummed. But his heart was steady. Rooted.

Sophie curled beside him, and the others followed, pressing into his sides, over his legs, around his shoulders. They breathed as one. Their bodies warm, their souls lit from within.

The tree’s light pulsed with the same rhythm.

Jude rested his head against Lucy’s shoulder, his hand tangled in Grace’s, his thigh pressed to Zoey’s. And he whispered, "Whatever comes next... we’re ready."

And the island, always listening, sang back its answer.

A soft, slow lullaby of roots and stars and love.

The lullaby continued into the evening, woven through the trees like wind made sound, settling into their skin and bones. No one spoke for a long while. They remained in the grove, their bodies a gentle tangle of limbs and breath and afterglow.