Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1610

Chapter 1610: Chapter 1610

Literal vines bloomed in real time under their steps. Every kiss made petals open. Every thrust between them sent a new row of blossoms blooming.

She laughed as they moved, tangled in each other in a swirl of heat and color, moaning into his neck, dragging her fingers down his chest. Their lovemaking was playful, breathless, sweaty. She came twice before he did, gripping his face and whispering, "Again. I want you again."

Scarlet waited in a space filled with mirrors - smooth obsidian walls that reflected a thousand angles of their bodies. She touched her own reflection while he touched her, then turned and offered herself to him, kneeling with her hands on the wall.

She didn’t say a word. But when he took her from behind, slowly, reverently, her reflection moaned back in perfect synchronicity, glowing golden with each thrust. Her pleasure was voiceless and full. She shivered when she came, and leaned back into him like a cat seeking warmth.

Sophie’s room was nothing but starlight.

Floating particles surrounded them, gravity forgotten. They drifted together, suspended in the air, his body meeting hers in slow motion. She cried as he entered her, not from pain, but from release. From the years of holding back. From all the weight she finally let go of. She kissed him again and again, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, pulling him in deeper. They floated while they made love, silent and glowing like stars reborn.

Emma didn’t wait for a chamber. She dragged him into a corridor between spaces, slammed him against a root, and kissed him like she was drowning. "You’re mine," she growled, biting his lip. "Say it."

He laughed against her throat. "I’ve always been."

She scratched his chest as she climbed him, and he caught her thighs as she wrapped around him. Their rhythm was wild, desperate. She didn’t hold back. She swore when she came, trembling as he slammed into her harder. When he came too, she bit down on his shoulder and whispered, "Still mine."

Lucy waited for last.

She had waited through all the others, watched, smiled, held space. But now she stood at the center of the dream, glowing like the moon, her chamber surrounding them both.

"Come home," she whispered.

Jude walked into her arms.

Their kiss was eternal.

There was no urgency. No hunger. Only knowing.

They made love slowly, deeply, never looking away. She pulled him in, wrapped around him, moved with him in a rhythm that felt like the world itself. The island pulsed in time with their breaths. The sky bent toward them. Their hearts beat in perfect unity.

She whispered his name like it was creation.

And when they came together, the entire grove erupted with light.

The walls of every chamber disappeared.

The chambers became one.

They lay tangled, twelve women and one man, on a bed of glowing moss, their breath joined, their skin glowing with a hue beyond gold - something ancient and new.

Jude opened his eyes.

Above him, the stars spun faster.

And then he heard the sound again - the tone.

Calling.

Beckoning.

But not from the sky this time.

From beneath.

Rose sat up, eyes glowing, mouth parted.

"You feel it too," she whispered.

Jude nodded.

Lucy rose beside her. "What is it?"

Rose looked down at the moss. "The roots."

"They’re ready," Jude said.

The women looked at him.

Twelve eyes.

Twelve lights.

Twelve flames.

"What do we do?" Grace asked.

He smiled, took Lucy’s hand in one, Rose’s in the other, and said, "We go deeper."

And the ground opened beneath them - softly, lovingly.

Inviting.

They stepped forward.

And descended.

The descent was not a fall but a surrender.

The moss beneath their feet parted like silk, revealing a spiraling passage bathed in lightless glow - neither cold nor warm, but thrumming with welcome. Jude led the way, flanked by Rose and Lucy, their fingers woven with his, anchoring him in body and soul. Behind them came the others, barefoot, bare-skinned, gleaming with the sacred aftermath of all they had shared. No one questioned. No one hesitated. The call had reached them all.

The walls around them pulsed like muscle, like the deep arterial chambers of something vast and ancient, something alive. Vines climbed the tunnel in tangled beauty, glowing faintly with the gold and violet hues of their union. With each step, the tunnel responded - petals opening, stone softening, light blooming with their passing.

Sophie was the first to speak, her voice hushed and reverent. "This isn’t just the island."

Emma’s voice was close behind. "It’s beneath the island."

"It’s the source," Rose whispered.

Grace reached out and brushed her fingers along the wall. "It’s been waiting."

"For us," Jude said softly. "For all of this."

At the bottom of the spiral, the passage widened into a vast chamber so grand it silenced even Zoey. The air was thick with musk and floral sweetness, the scent of deep places and blooming secrets. In the center of the space stood a tree - not like the others above, but massive and low to the ground, its limbs sprawling in all directions like veins, covered in black bark that shimmered like obsidian. But from its base glowed a soft, pulsing heart, golden and wet and alive, encased in roots.

"It’s a womb," Lucy breathed. "A root womb."

Natalie stepped forward and dropped to her knees, staring at it, enraptured. "It’s alive."

"It is life," Rose murmured.

They gathered around it in a circle again, instinct guiding them into the same formation they had taken aboveground. But this time it was different. Jude was not just their center. He was the conduit.

The root-womb began to pulse faster.

"Do you feel that?" Stella whispered. "It knows we’re here."

The air thickened. Their skin flushed. A wave of heat swept through the chamber - not external, not environmental. It was arousal. From the tree. From the roots. From them.

Their connection had stirred something deep, and now it responded with equal hunger.