Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1487

Chapter 1487: Chapter 1487

She lifted herself over him, straddling him slowly, her hair a curtain of silk around his face. "Let’s do it again. Like that night. No magic. No island. Just us."

Jude nodded, hands on her hips.

She guided him into her slowly, moaning quietly, eyes locked on his. There was no urgency, no fire - only the slow, sacred rhythm of two souls remembering how to be one. Her breath hitched as he moved inside her, her thighs tightening around him. The wind sighed. The river glistened.

Their bodies moved like melody and harmony, perfectly in sync.

He kissed her breasts, her throat, her jawline, his hands memorizing her curves again like it was their first time. She rocked against him, moaning his name with every pulse, and when the climax came, it felt like the island itself paused to watch - not to feed, but to witness love for what it truly was.

Afterward, she lay across his chest again, smiling up at the stars. "You’re still you," she whispered.

He kissed her forehead. "So are you."

She turned her face up to his. "But something tells me we won’t be for long."

They slept there, wrapped in each other and the scent of moss and river mist. And in the trees, unseen but not unfelt, something watched. Not hungry. Not angry. Just... present.

Waiting.

The first light of dawn came soft, filtered through mist and curling branches. Jude woke to the weight of Lucy still draped over him, her breath slow and steady, her skin flushed with warmth. The river whispered beside them, and the trees felt nearer than before - as if they’d crept closer in the night, wanting to listen to the heartbeat of two lovers. He didn’t move for a long time. There was peace in the stillness, even if it felt borrowed.

But when Lucy stirred, her lashes brushing his chest, her hand sliding lazily down his side, that peace broke gently into something else - something sensual, grounding, and real.

She looked up at him with a sleepy smile, her voice husky. "You’re hard again."

Jude chuckled, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. "Maybe it’s the cold water."

She grinned, lifting herself just enough to tease his tip with the slick warmth between her thighs. "No. It’s me."

He groaned low in his throat as she slowly sank onto him again, their bodies slick with dew and desire. The second time was deeper, slower, more aching. She moved like a rhythm only he could hear, her moans soft and sacred in the dawn hush. There was no rush, only this - the weight of her above him, the cling of her body, the way she whispered his name like a mantra. When she came, it was with his name against his lips. And when he followed, it was with his hands buried in her hair, tethered completely.

Afterward, they bathed in the river, washing away sweat and sleep. Lucy laughed as Jude splashed her, and for a moment, they were just two people again, untouched by the madness of the island. But it didn’t last.

By the time they returned to camp, the others were awake. The clearing buzzed with low voices, tension pulsing beneath every word.

Sophie approached first. "Where were you?"

"By the river," Jude answered. "We needed space."

Emma stood near the fire, arms crossed, her eyes sharp. "Things changed again while you were gone."

He followed her gaze.

Stella was sitting in the middle of the clearing, legs folded, palms pressed flat against the earth. Her eyes were closed, but her lips moved, whispering something inaudible. Around her, the moss was glowing faintly, just like in the cave. Grace knelt beside her, mimicking the pose, her own eyes glazed in focus.

Natalie stood apart, arms hugging herself, watching with a mix of fear and fascination. "They started at sunrise," she said. "Didn’t say a word. Just sat down and began."

"Are they chanting?" Lucy asked.

"More like... speaking to something," Susan said from behind, her voice uncertain. "Or answering."

Jude moved toward them, crouching beside Stella. "What are you doing?"

Her eyes opened slowly, pupils golden, and she smiled. "Listening. The island is teaching us how to speak back."

Grace opened her eyes too. "It’s beautiful, Jude. Like a language made of feeling."

He stood again, unease settling in his gut. "We need to stay together. Whatever’s happening, it’s accelerating."

Zoey approached next, her movements measured, her face unreadable. "They’re pulling away. Not just mentally. Spiritually. Like they’re stepping into something we haven’t."

Emma shook her head. "No. Like something’s stepping into them."

Rose arrived then, walking into the clearing with wet hair and bare feet. She wore nothing but a thin wrap of white silk that clung to her body like mist. All eyes turned to her.

"We’re not stepping away," she said calmly. "We’re stepping forward. You’re the ones standing still."

Sophie moved in front of Jude, her voice low and hard. "Then say what you want, Rose. Enough of the riddles."

Rose tilted her head. "I want you with us. All of you. But I won’t force it. Neither will the island."

"Then what was the ritual?" Emma asked. "Why the roots? Why the glowing altar?"

"An invitation," Rose answered. "One you already started answering. That night... when we all touched. When we joined."

Jude felt Lucy squeeze his hand.

"It wasn’t just sex," Rose continued. "It was connection. You gave yourselves to each other completely. The island felt that. It responded."

"And now it wants more?" Sophie asked.

"It wants truth," Rose said. "And we’re finally ready to give it."

That afternoon, a storm rolled in - sudden, quiet, and strange. The sky darkened to a deep violet, and mist crept through the trees like smoke. Thunder rumbled without lightning. The air smelled of wet stone and blooming orchids.

Everyone gathered beneath the main platform of the treehouse, huddled together as wind stirred the leaves in melodic patterns.