Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1643

Chapter 1643: Chapter 1643

Emma stepped forward, fingers pressed to her lips. "This is the child of the spiral."

"The first," Stella said.

"But not the last," Lucy added.

The seed pulsed again.

And then it floated gently into Jude’s hands.

He cradled it against his bare chest.

And the spiral on his skin flared so brightly that the sky answered.

A sound echoed across the forest.

A low, melodic hum.

Like the island sighing.

Like it had been holding its breath for centuries, waiting for this.

Waiting for them.

They turned as one, looking back toward the path.

The clearing.

The home they had made.

Everything had changed.

And still - everything was just beginning.

Jude looked to the women around him - his wives, his soulmates, his mirrors.

Lucy stepped closer, her lips brushing his ear. "So... what do we name our first creation?"

He turned the glowing seed in his hands, the golden pulse beating steady.

"Spira," he whispered. "Born of the spiral."

They all repeated it, voices layered with heat and awe.

Spira.

And as they spoke it, the seed flared brighter.

Their child.

Their island.

Their future.

And it had just begun to breathe.

The seed floated in Jude’s hands, light pulsing like the heartbeat of something not yet born, yet already impossibly ancient. Its warmth bled into his skin, curling around his bones like ivy, seeping deep. It didn’t feel fragile. It felt infinite. The way creation must feel before it becomes form. His wives gathered around him, eyes wide, their bodies still painted with the fading glow of the night’s passion, the spiral shimmering on their flesh in subtle golden glints. Each of them looked at the seed with awe, but also with recognition - because it wasn’t just his. It was theirs.

Rose stepped closer and laid her fingers over his, cradling the seed with him. "It’s not just life," she murmured. "It’s memory. Everything we’ve done, everything we are... it’s been planted in here."

Emma’s eyes glistened. "It’s us."

Lucy’s hand slid to Jude’s back, her touch steady. "Then let’s protect it."

A hum vibrated through the ground beneath their feet, subtle at first but growing, deep and slow. It wasn’t the spiral calling this time - it was the island. The whole island. Beneath them, around them, in them. The dome above flared with soft amber light. The air thickened with a breathless stillness, like the world was holding its breath.

Sophie moved beside Jude. "I think it’s time."

"For what?" Susan whispered.

"For the offering," Zoey said, voice low, sensual, like she’d always known this moment would come. "For the seed to become more."

Jude stepped toward the center of the temple, his wives following, surrounding him in a perfect circle. As one, they knelt, their hands extended, their eyes locked to his. He lowered himself slowly to the altar, the seed still cradled in his hands, and sat with his legs folded, heart open.

Rose and Lucy rose first. Together, they approached him, their bodies moving like dancers, soft and sure, shedding the vine-wrapped garments they’d worn for modesty’s sake. They knelt on either side of him, their thighs brushing his, their lips brushing his cheeks. And then, without a word, they leaned forward and kissed the seed between his hands.

It pulsed harder, brighter.

Grace and Stella came next, their mouths tasting his chest, his shoulders, their hands stroking down his arms. "You are the vessel," Grace whispered against his skin.

"You’re the gate," Stella added, wrapping her fingers with his.

The others followed in pairs - Natalie and Scarlet, Sophie and Emma, Susan and Layla, Zoey alone at the end. Each kissed him, touched him, and offered a piece of themselves to the seed. The golden light began to shimmer through the entire temple now, pouring from the spiral above, painting every stone and leaf in gold.

And then Zoey stood before him, naked, radiant, her hair wild and tangled with bits of pollen and vines. She knelt between his legs and leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his.

Her kiss was long. Deep. Claiming.

When she pulled away, she smiled. "Now give it everything."

Jude inhaled deeply.

He laid the seed down in front of him on the altar.

And then he reached for Rose.

She climbed into his lap without hesitation, her body sliding against his as she wrapped around him. Their mouths found each other’s again, and then she sank down onto him, slowly, deeply, until he filled her completely.

Gasps echoed through the temple.

But they weren’t watching in jealousy.

They were watching in reverence.

This was sacred.

This was offering.

Rose moved with slow rhythm, hips rocking against his, her breath catching with each roll of her body. Jude held her close, forehead pressed to hers, his hands tracing her back, her hips, the spiral etched between her shoulder blades. The seed pulsed beside them, in time with their bodies, glowing brighter and brighter with each thrust.

When Rose cried out, shuddering against him, her climax rolled like a wave across the altar - and the seed answered.

Light burst outward in a ripple.

Stella came next.

She straddled him as Rose moved aside, still panting, still glowing. She moaned softly when he entered her, her hands gripping his shoulders, her hair falling over his face. Each movement between them was slow, reverent, worship. And when she reached her peak, the seed pulsed again - brighter, louder, deeper.

Lucy’s turn followed.

Her body trembled with need before she even mounted him. Her kiss was greedy, her hips wild, her cries sweeter than anything he’d ever heard. She came hard, shaking, sobbing, and the pulse from the seed lifted dust and leaves into the air.

One by one they came.

Grace, writhing against him with her breath hot and broken.

Sophie, silent and intense, her eyes locked to his.

Scarlet, delicate but desperate, clinging to him like she might disappear.

Layla, forceful and sensual, claiming every inch of him with hungry groans.

Susan, soft and teary, whispering his name over and over as she rocked against him.