Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1681

Chapter 1681: Chapter 1681

They emerged from the grove glowing more brightly than before. Moss flowered beneath their feet. The trees leaned to watch them pass. The sky followed them with shafts of liquid light.

Back at the camp, the newcomers waited - but they were changed too. They knelt when Jude and his wives arrived, not in worship, but in welcome.

Rose stepped forward and touched one woman’s cheek.

"You’ve felt it," she said gently.

The woman nodded. "It called. Even here."

Jude looked over the group - thirty, maybe forty now. All glowing faintly, all watching with eyes wide and glistening. All dreamers.

"You’re not followers," Jude said, stepping forward. "You’re part of this."

Zoey smirked. "Well, not all of it. We’ve earned some special status."

The others laughed, and the tension softened.

Stella walked to the center of the circle and knelt. She pressed her hands to the earth.

"It’s ready for us," she whispered. "The island. It wants us to grow."

"Then we build," Sophie said. "Not just shelters. Homes."

Emma looked at Jude. "A new kind of life."

"Together," Lucy whispered.

Grace came to his side. "You felt it too, didn’t you?"

He nodded. "It’s coming."

Natalie tilted her head. "The child?"

"No," Jude said. "The world."

Alara’s voice came again, this time not from trees or sky - but from within them.

"Create it."

The wives closed in again - arms around waists, heads resting on shoulders, fingers tangling.

Jude stood in the center, not as a leader, not as a god.

As the root.

The pulse.

And the seed.

The island bloomed beneath their feet.

Golden vines coiled around the trees, bursting into bloom as the circle of lovers tightened around Jude. The moss beneath their feet pulsed with warm light, each step birthing new growth - tiny petals, curling leaves, vibrant mosses that shimmered like they drank starlight. Everything breathed with them now. The island wasn’t just alive - it was listening.

Jude stood in the center of them all, arms wrapped around Lucy’s waist, her back pressed against his chest. The others moved slowly, reverently, forming concentric rings around them. Bodies brushed in passing - hip to thigh, lips to shoulder, fingertips grazing down spines. There was no urgency, only deep, spreading heat that bloomed in waves from touch and closeness.

Susan approached first, her movements quiet but deliberate. She cupped Jude’s face and kissed him - long, deep, her tongue brushing his lip with a need that had softened into something pure. Then she turned, pressing her back to him, resting her head against Lucy’s shoulder. Zoey came next, bare feet whispering across the moss. She didn’t wait for permission - she straddled his thigh and kissed Lucy, slow and deep, her hands threading into Jude’s hair as she whispered between kisses, "You’re the center. We’re your orbit."

He exhaled as her fingers slid down his chest.

One by one they joined - Sophie sliding behind him, her arms circling his waist, her breath teasing his neck. Grace and Stella knelt before him, their hands worshipful as they moved over his thighs, over Lucy’s hips. Emma settled beside Susan, one hand on her stomach, the other running up Lucy’s spine, and kissed her shoulder. Natalie lay back in the moss, pulling Scarlet with her, their mouths meeting with lazy hunger, bodies entwining as golden pollen drifted down like silk.

And Rose. Rose watched.

She stood just outside the circle, her hair loose and wild, the light dancing in her eyes like fire. She waited until the others had joined, then stepped into the ring like a storm in bloom. Her eyes locked with Jude’s, and she smiled - smug and reverent all at once. She dropped to her knees before him, pressing her lips to the inside of his wrist, then his stomach, then lower, her mouth a benediction, a prayer spoken in heat.

He trembled as Lucy moaned, her body arching against him. They were one now - truly. Every kiss on her skin felt like it was pressed to his heart. Every sigh she made echoed in his throat.

"We’re not just making love," she whispered, turning her head, her cheek brushing his. "We’re making history."

And they were.

Their bodies became language - each movement a syllable, each moan a verse. They kissed and touched and cried out in joy, not for climax, but for creation. It was worship and it was war, and it was surrender. Skin to skin, pulse to pulse, breath shared like a secret - sacred, intimate, unstoppable.

Rose rose from her knees and kissed Lucy’s mouth, then Jude’s, her fingers threading into both their hair.

"You’re not the center," she whispered, eyes burning. "We all are. " and then she smiled.

Then she guided Lucy down onto the moss, straddled her, and kissed her again, her hips rolling slow as Jude sank to his knees behind her. Together, the three of them moved like a single being, limbs and mouths and tongues creating new constellations in the golden light. The rest joined them, a tangle of moans and fingers and thighs and heat.

Time fell away.

The island surged with every climax - flowers blooming in real time, vines pulsing like veins, the sky painted in soft golds and deep violets as if the day were trying to stay alive just to witness this.

Jude lost count of how many times his body opened, how many times he surrendered to one of them - or to all of them. They moved around him like tides. Rose pulling his hair as she rode him. Sophie whispering secrets into his mouth. Zoey teasing him with her teeth before kissing him like she’d never stop. Grace stroking his face as she cried from pleasure. Lucy holding his hand every time he lost himself.

He made love to each one of them, and they to him. But also to each other. Kisses passed like flame, touches shared like holy things. There were no limits, no roles, no boundaries - only need and love and something so much bigger than them.