Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1641

Chapter 1641: Chapter 1641

No one spoke. They didn’t need to. There was a quiet reverence in every motion, every glance, every brush of fingers. Susan’s hand lingered on Stella’s lower back as they walked. Natalie and Emma walked with arms laced, hips touching. Lucy kept close to Jude’s side, fingers trailing lightly over his wrist, anchoring herself to him like she was still drinking in what had just happened beneath the earth.

The clearing where the heartstone stood came into view again, but it looked different now. The spiral path they’d taken was no longer faint - it glowed brightly in the moss, the center marked with delicate blossoms of pale gold, as if the island itself had crowned the spot sacred.

Rose was the first to step into the center. She turned, hair dancing in the breeze, her voice soft and thick with awe. "We’re not who we were before."

Sophie’s smile curved, wry and soft. "No... we’re more."

Lucy touched her own collarbone, where the spiral flickered gently beneath her skin. "I feel like we’ve opened something we can’t close."

"It’s not meant to be closed," Jude said quietly. "We’re not meant to turn back."

They encircled him again - his wives, his light, his mirrors. Grace pressed against his back, her arms sliding around his waist, her lips brushing his shoulder. Stella knelt in front of him, resting her cheek on his thigh, gazing up with a quiet kind of worship.

"Then let’s build it," Zoey said, her eyes glittering, fierce and warm. "The future we saw."

Sophie tilted her head. "A village?"

"More than that," Rose said. "A sanctuary."

They spent the day laying the first stones, not in labor, but in ceremony. The spiral clearing became their heart. Around it, they marked out spaces with woven vines, soft furs, and crystal totems found in the forest. Emma and Susan uncovered a pool of clear spring water just beyond the clearing. Stella and Natalie shaped walls with living branches that bent at their touch. The trees didn’t resist - they yielded, as if they too wanted to be part of whatever was blooming here.

By dusk, it had taken form - not a city, not even a village, but a nest. A sacred grove where they could return, where they could belong. At its center, a new platform was grown, a wide, flat bloom of wood and moss that rose like an altar.

They didn’t plan the evening.

It just happened.

As the golden light bled across the canopy, painting their skin in shadow and shimmer, Jude stood at the center of the platform. He turned slowly, meeting the eyes of each of his wives, one by one. Each look carried something old and new - a shared memory of what they had survived, and the raw promise of everything still to come.

He held out his hand.

Lucy came first, stepping barefoot across the moss. Her dress fell from her shoulders in a single movement, and when she reached him, she pressed a kiss to his lips that made the world blur.

"I want you to take me like I’m the first," she whispered.

"And the last," he replied, already lifting her into his arms.

The others followed.

Not in haste.

Not in a rush.

In rhythm.

A ritual.

Rose knelt beside them, kissing Lucy’s shoulder as Jude entered her, their gasps overlapping in perfect harmony. Grace and Zoey moved behind Jude, touching, guiding, stroking every inch of skin as if preparing him for more. He didn’t stop when Lucy cried out - he held her, kissed her through it, until she was shaking and breathless and laughing softly against his chest.

Then Sophie came.

No words. Just her eyes. Her mouth.

She straddled him where he sat, and the whole grove shifted. The moss pulsed. The spiral glowed. When she slid onto him, it was with a sharp breath that ended in a groan of sheer pleasure.

Susan and Natalie kissed beside them, their bodies already slick with need, their moans quiet and reverent. Emma leaned over them and offered her mouth to both, her hands stroking wherever skin called to her.

The night became breath and pulse and light.

Jude made love to each of them.

On the altar.

Beside it.

Beneath the stars.

He whispered their names, each one like a prayer.

Lucy.

Rose.

Zoey.

Sophie.

Emma.

Grace.

Stella.

Natalie.

Susan.

Scarlet.

Layla.

Even when Layla pressed into him from behind and guided him to his knees, he surrendered - not just to her body, but to her rhythm, her claim, her joy. She rode him from behind, slow and deep, her nails digging into his back as she whispered everything she’d never said.

And when Scarlet wrapped herself around him like a vine, pulling him into her mouth, her thighs, her trembling warmth - he gave her every ounce he had left.

Hours passed.

The altar was soaked with pleasure.

Their skin glowed with golden sweat.

The spiral pulsed beneath them like a second heart.

When it was over, they lay there together, tangled in moss and arms and each other’s scent.

"I don’t want this to end," Emma whispered.

"It won’t," Rose murmured. "Not now."

Lucy turned her face into Jude’s chest. "We are the island now."

He nodded, arms around them all. "And it is us."

Above them, the stars shifted.

The spiral reflected in the sky.

And deep beneath the earth, the whisper returned.

Stronger.

Proud.

"You have begun."

The stars gleamed with unnatural brilliance above them, forming slow spirals that mirrored the ones etched into their skin. The sky no longer obeyed the laws of the world they had once known. It shimmered with the breath of something ancient - alive, sentient, watching. Beneath that sky, their bodies glistened with golden sweat, still tangled together, not just in the aftermath of passion but in the bond they had forged with the island itself. They didn’t move for a long time, basking in the warmth of shared heat, of skin against skin, of the glow that pulsed in them now like a second soul.