Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1562

Chapter 1562: Chapter 1562

Just a wide pool of still silver water, and above it, a dome of living branches whose leaves shone with a constellation of every night they’d ever seen.

Sophie gasped. "This is..."

"The island’s heart," Rose said softly.

Lucy floated her child to the water’s edge. "They wanted us to see this."

The children hovered, one by one, around the pool. Then - together - they drifted over it, glowing brighter with each breath. The water stirred. Reflected them not as infants, but as futures. Twelve figures of radiant light, tall, graceful, powerful.

The mothers held their breath.

"They’re showing us what they’ll become," Emma whispered.

Jude stepped to the water’s edge and gazed at their reflections.

He saw a world where love ruled without shame. Where families were bound by choice and trust, not law or blood. Where islands bloomed under the feet of the brave, and hearts spoke louder than war.

And in the center of it all... them.

The thirteen.

He turned to his wives - twelve goddesses with fire in their eyes and softness in their hands.

"We created the future," he whispered.

Rose touched his face. "No," she said. "We made it worthy. "

And under the dome of stars not yet born, with their children floating in light above holy water, they pressed their bodies together again - not just in lust, but in renewal. One kiss. Then another. Then a storm of them.

They didn’t strip - they merged. Skin to skin, mouth to mouth, arms reaching, thighs tangling. The island welcomed it. The temple welcomed it. Even the children, glowing softly above, pulsed in harmony, as if blessing their parents’ sacred reunion.

The stars danced.

The water whispered.

And the future sighed in delight.

Their bodies moved like flame and shadow, curling together under the temple’s canopy as the silver pool mirrored their union. There was no beginning, no end - just rhythm. Breath. Surrender. The grass beneath them softened, warmed by their heat, cradling limbs that glided and gripped, mouths that sought, hands that worshipped. Jude was everywhere, and so were they - twelve women who had given him everything, and claimed him with equal hunger. He kissed Grace’s throat as Stella moaned softly beneath him, her hips rising to meet his. Lucy brushed against his side, pulling his mouth to hers, her fingers already tracing along his ribs, her legs sliding across his thighs.

Natalie gasped as Zoey’s fingers danced between her legs, her head thrown back against Susan’s breast, while Emma knelt behind them, her breath hot and slow against their skin. Rose watched from the shadows, eyes molten with pride and want, before slipping into the circle like smoke, her lips brushing Sophie’s collarbone, her tongue teasing the hollow between Jude’s shoulder blades.

"I feel everything," Jude whispered. "All of you."

"You always have," Sophie said, pushing him gently onto his back, straddling him with a soft, commanding smile. "You just didn’t know how to hold it."

"I do now," he said, voice thick.

Sophie lowered herself onto him with aching slowness, her head falling back, breasts heaving as their bodies locked. His hands gripped her hips. Around them, the others closed in, kissing, watching, touching, pressing. Susan leaned down to kiss Sophie as she rode Jude, their moans merging like waves. Emma’s mouth found Jude’s jaw, her teeth grazing skin, her fingers threading into his hair.

And the children - still floating above - glowed more brightly, not disturbed but lulled by the energy of their parents. They pulsed gently, golden and warm, tethered by invisible strings to the bond that deepened below.

Stella kissed Natalie while Zoey claimed Grace with a slow, insistent rhythm. Lucy and Scarlet moved together in silence, tangled limbs and laughter breathless in their throats. Rose finally slid into Jude’s arms from behind, her breasts pressed against his back, her tongue licking a path along his neck as Sophie’s movements grew faster, more desperate.

Jude couldn’t tell whose hands gripped him now, whose mouths fed on his skin. They were one body, one breath. Time bent around them, stretched, dissolved. It wasn’t lust anymore - it was worship. Every kiss was a vow. Every moan a promise.

And when Sophie cried out, her body shuddering, trembling around him, Jude followed with a groan that echoed in the heartwood of the temple. He held her tight, trembling, as the others moved over and around them, kisses exchanged in quiet reverence, caresses drawing out the afterglow like silk drawn through water.

They collapsed again into a nest of limbs, hair, and pulse, chests rising and falling together. Rose rested her cheek against Jude’s stomach. Lucy traced circles along his chest. Zoey curled beside him, stroking his thigh absently while Grace spooned behind her, pressing kisses to her spine. The temple dimmed slightly, leaves shifting above as if sighing.

For a time, there was only breath.

Then the children began to descend.

One by one, they floated lower, small arms outstretched. The moment their skin touched their parents’ bodies, a pulse rippled outward - not visible, not sound, but a feeling. Connection. Memory. Understanding. Each child pressed their glowing palm to a mother’s chest. A father’s jaw. A lover’s throat.

And knowledge flowed.

The children didn’t speak, but they spoke.

Not in words, but visions. Each adult closed their eyes as waves of meaning crashed through them. Jude saw forests blooming at their footsteps. Rivers parting for their daughters. Mountains bowing to his sons. He saw future homes shaped from song. He saw the island reshaped - not ruled, not tamed - but guided.

"You will not die," the vision whispered. "You will become."

Sophie trembled, holding her child tightly. "Are we changing again?"

"Yes," Rose whispered, stroking her daughter’s golden curls. "But this time, we know it."

Susan was crying now, silently, holding her son to her heart. "Will they leave us?"

"They are us," Emma murmured. "Even when they’re more."

And then the children pulled away, floating back into the air. Twelve stars over twelve hearts. A pattern that pulsed once - and then flared.