Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1622

Chapter 1622: Chapter 1622

They reached their clearing. The place where the great tree had first bloomed. Where they had first laid themselves bare, in every sense. Now the tree stood taller than before. Fuller. Its trunk was broader, limbs stretching into the sky like fingers reaching for gods. Its blossoms had changed - from simple petals to shapes more intricate, like soft skin wrapped in light, like lips parted in ecstasy.

Sophie stepped toward the base, where a new structure had formed - a natural cradle, shaped from bark and moss and stone, clearly not shaped by hand, but by purpose. It pulsed faintly.

Natalie tilted her head. "It looks like a bed."

"A nest," Stella corrected. "For gods."

Jude stepped forward, drawn by something deep and primal. The cradle shimmered as he touched its edge. Heat rushed through his arm, down his spine. The others gasped softly as the glow spread from his skin into the bark, lighting the structure from within.

He turned to them.

And they came.

Not because he commanded.

Not because he asked.

But because they needed to.

Rose was first, slipping off the last remnants of fabric like shedding skin, her body glistening with golden sweat. Lucy followed, cheeks flushed, eyes glazed with desire. Zoey and Grace kissed as they approached, tangled and already lost in the rhythm. Stella dropped to her knees before she even reached him, her hands on his thighs, her mouth hot against his skin. Emma and Natalie moved in sync, silent and breathless, their eyes never leaving him.

Susan climbed behind him, hands trailing his shoulders. Sophie watched from a few steps back, chest rising and falling, uncertain.

Jude reached for her. "We only do this if you want it."

Sophie hesitated - then stepped forward and pressed her lips to his.

The answer was yes.

The cradle accepted them.

They moved together in a rhythm older than language. There were no roles. No turns. Only bodies, joining. Melding. Glowing. The heat of the island joined them, wrapped around them, pulled moans from lips and gasps from throats. The moss didn’t itch. It caressed. The bark didn’t scratch. It kissed.

Jude was at the center of it all, every nerve alight, every touch magnified by ten others. Lucy rode him first, her body slow and wet and trembling, her cries soft and sacred. Then Zoey climbed over his face, panting, grinding against his mouth as she held Stella’s hand and begged to come. Rose wrapped around him, guiding him into Grace as Natalie kissed her neck. Susan and Emma touched each other above him, their fingers trailing down to brush along his skin with every stroke.

There were moments when it was too much - but never in a way that pushed him back.

Only forward.

Deeper.

More.

Every climax lit the nest with bursts of gold. The tree responded. Blossoms opened wider. Vines reached down, curling lovingly along thighs, hips, backs. They didn’t bind. They danced .

When it was Sophie’s turn, she came to him last - already shaking, already wet, already crying. She straddled him slow, and as he entered her, she sobbed once, loud and helpless. His hands caught her hips. Guided her. Worshipped her.

She leaned in, her mouth finding his. "This... this is what it means."

He nodded. "All of it."

Her orgasm hit her like a breaking wave. His followed seconds later, and the golden light exploded out from the nest in a pulse that rocked the trees and split the sky above in a radiant crack.

The wind roared. The ground trembled.

Then everything stilled.

For a long while, no one moved. Bodies tangled. Limbs resting. Sweat cooling. Breath shared.

Then the tree spoke.

Not in words.

Not aloud.

In their blood.

Each of them felt the sentence form inside them - etched behind their eyes, pulsing behind their ribs.

"You have become the island."

Jude blinked up at the branches above, the words still echoing inside him. "What does that mean?"

He didn’t expect an answer.

But Rose whispered it beside him anyway. "It means we’re no longer just part of this place."

Lucy smiled sleepily, stroking his chest. "We are this place."

Zoey propped herself up on one elbow. "So what now?"

Jude looked around the clearing. At the women he loved. At the golden air. At the blooming trees and singing roots.

He smiled.

"We live."

They stayed in the nest until dusk. Not because they needed to. But because they wanted to. The sun above the canopy was no longer ordinary. It set in streaks of purple and fire, painting their skin with softness. As the last light faded, the island pulsed once more, and in the distance, a new flower bloomed - its petals forming a circle of radiant fire.

A door.

Not back to the world.

Not away.

But deeper in.

They would go.

But not tonight.

Tonight, they would rest.

And the island would dream with them.

Jude awoke in darkness - not the absence of light, but a velvet twilight that felt alive, thick with the hum of dreams. The air was warm against his skin, scented with flowers that hadn’t existed the day before. He lay still for a moment, surrounded by the sleeping breaths of the women curled against him. Rose’s arm draped across his chest, her fingers twitching in her sleep as if touching something even now in the dreamworld. Lucy’s leg was hooked over his hip, her skin still aglow with faint golden dust, her breath slow, even, sensual. Around them, the nest pulsed with a soft light, holding them in its cradle like a secret the island refused to let go.

He shifted, trying not to wake them, and sat up. The glow from the moss beneath him brightened slightly in response. His skin shimmered faintly with every movement. The change was still inside him. He didn’t need to see it to know it. He could feel it in his breath, in the way his pulse matched the rhythm of the forest.