Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1579

Chapter 1579: Chapter 1579

They arrived at dawn, just as the dew clung thick to the moss and the golden mist hovered low between the trees. Three this time - two women and a man - emerging slowly, blinking as though they’d stepped from sleep directly into paradise. Their clothes were tattered. Their bodies lean from travel. But their eyes burned with the unmistakable glow of dreamers.

Jude was already there, waiting beneath the great tree that crowned the Gate. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He only watched, calm and bare, his skin catching the morning light. Behind him, the others began to stir from their resting place, limbs stretching in lazy pleasure, kisses exchanged, whispers traded between tangled hair and warm skin.

Lucy rose first, silent beside him. Then Rose, brushing moss from her thighs as she approached. The others gathered like petals drawn to the same sun. They stood behind Jude, all twelve wives, quiet and radiant, as the newcomers stepped fully into the clearing.

The man dropped to his knees without a word.

The taller of the two women blinked once, then twice, and whispered, "We dreamed this."

"Yes," Rose said. "And the island listened."

The shorter woman took a step forward, tears slipping down her cheeks. "We thought it wasn’t real."

Jude finally moved, walking slowly toward them. "Most dreams aren’t. But this one waited for you."

The man looked up, eyes wide and stunned. "We saw the heartstone. The light. We followed it."

Lucy knelt beside him, cupping his face in both hands. "You didn’t follow. You were called ."

The taller woman reached out, fingers brushing Rose’s wrist. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Rose smiled. "Feel."

Sophie stepped forward then, draped in pale silk, her gaze cool but welcoming. "You’ll stay here first. We’ll feed you. Cleanse you. Then you’ll decide."

"Decide what?" the shorter woman asked.

"If you want to become part of the bloom," Jude said gently.

Stella and Grace stepped forward, taking the newcomers’ hands. Natalie offered water, Zoey brought fresh fruit, Scarlet draped warm cloth over their shoulders. No one was rushed. No one demanded.

Only invitation.

Only breath.

Only touch.

The three newcomers sat in the moss at the edge of the circle, watching the twelve wives move like sunbeams between the trees, their laughter like wind chimes. They asked no questions. They simply watched. And the island whispered to them, low and insistent, a voice made of leaves and water and heat.

Later, when the sun was high and the fire crackled in the center of the sanctuary, Jude sat with them. Naked. Open. The mark on his chest glowing faintly.

"You’re not just visitors," he said. "You’re pieces of something older. You wouldn’t be here otherwise."

The taller woman - Asha, she had whispered her name - studied him closely. "What happens if we say yes?"

Lucy moved behind her, brushing her fingers along her shoulder. "Then you wake up."

The man - called Elian - watched the fire flicker. "And if we say no?"

"Then you dream again," Sophie said, her voice soft. "But you’ll always feel what you left behind."

The shorter woman - Mira - touched Jude’s knee. "And what if we don’t know yet?"

Rose leaned down, kissed the corner of Mira’s mouth. "Then we wait with you."

And so they did.

The day passed like honey dripping slow from the comb. The newcomers watched as the wives danced through the trees, gathered fruit, bathed beneath the waterfall. They watched Jude and Lucy kiss in the long grass, their bodies slow and reverent, not with hunger but with depth. They watched Grace and Zoey tangle together in laughter and lust by the stream, their pleasure echoing through the woods like birdsong. They watched Susan and Stella tease each other near the edge of the pool, then slip into the water, their sighs carried on the wind.

And when night fell, the three sat at the edge of the moss again, watching the others lay down together - limbs tangled, mouths open, moans rising like incense.

But they didn’t join.

Not yet.

The next day, Asha helped Grace gather wildflowers. Mira walked barefoot with Emma in silence, their hands brushing. Elian listened to Zoey’s laughter like it was a song from home. They began to move differently. Softer. Slower. As if their bodies had begun remembering something ancient. Something true .

Jude watched.

Waited.

Trusted.

By the third night, Mira stood at the edge of the firelight, eyes shining.

"I want to join," she said.

Sophie stepped toward her, undressed with a single motion. "Then come."

Mira crossed the moss barefoot, her breath shaking, her fingers trembling. Jude met her in the center, his hands gentle on her hips. He didn’t pull her. He didn’t push.

He waited.

She leaned in first, her lips pressing to his with the weight of hunger and longing and surrender. Her moan caught in her throat when his hands slid along her back. Lucy kissed her neck. Grace cradled her thighs. Scarlet held her hand.

They undressed her slowly.

Laid her down.

And welcomed her.

Jude slid inside her with reverence, every thrust matched by kisses from the wives, their mouths on her skin, their breath on her breasts, their fingers tangled in her hair. She cried out when she came, sobbed like she was being undone, rebuilt, reborn.

When it was over, she curled into Lucy’s arms and whispered, "I didn’t know I could feel like this."

Lucy kissed her forehead. "You’re only just beginning. We are gonna have it all."

The next night, Elian joined.

And the night after that - Asha.

One by one, they were welcomed.

Touched.

Opened.

And the island pulsed brighter.

The Gate shimmered with constant light now, a beacon through the trees. Jude could feel others stirring beyond it. More dreamers. More wanderers.

And now they were ready.

Because the circle had grown.

The pulse had spread.

The bloom was no longer just twelve.

Now it was fifteen.

And the island was still hungry.

Still opening.

Still dreaming.