Stuck in an Island with Twelve Beautiful Women
Chapter 1722

Chapter 1722: Chapter 1722

In the still hush of the golden night, Jude stirred, not because he needed rest but because something was calling to him. It wasn’t a sound. It wasn’t even a whisper. It was a hum, soft and seductive, like the touch of breath against skin. Around him, his lovers slept, tangled in curves and sighs, their bodies half-lit by the glow of the sapling nearby. The flowers on its delicate branches never wilted, never closed. They shimmered faintly, as if breathing with the group.

Jude moved gently, brushing his lips across Lucy’s temple before slipping from her embrace. She sighed softly, fingers closing in his absence but not waking. He walked barefoot through the moss, his skin still tingling from the connection earlier. The island vibrated beneath him - alive, eager. He stepped past Emma and Grace, who lay wrapped together like vines, past Sophie and Stella, whose legs had twined in sleep, and toward the sapling.

He knelt beside it, placing a hand near its root. The pulse inside it responded to his touch, not unlike the way a lover’s skin might react to a kiss. There was warmth there, and something more - a rhythm that wasn’t just alive but ancient. He felt it deep in his bones, like a memory his body hadn’t lived but somehow still knew.

And then a presence.

A figure moved behind him.

He turned.

Rose.

She was silent, but her eyes gleamed in the faint light. Her bare feet made no sound on the moss. Her hair was a curtain of shadow and gold down her back, her body silhouetted by the faint shimmer of the sapling’s glow.

"You felt it too," she whispered.

Jude nodded. "It’s not just watching anymore. It’s speaking."

Rose stepped closer, her fingers brushing his arm. "Then we listen."

Together, they placed their hands on the earth. The pulse grew stronger. Thicker. A heat bloomed beneath their palms, not burning but undeniably erotic - like the way breath hitches just before a kiss deepens, or the moment between a touch and a moan. Their eyes met, and neither needed to speak. The island didn’t want words. It wanted surrender.

The earth beneath them split - just slightly. A crack, a suggestion of something deeper. Golden light leaked from it, soft and slow, and from it, a small stone rose. Obsidian and gold veined, like a piece of the heartstone had been birthed anew.

Rose reached for it. As her fingers touched its surface, her breath caught. She trembled, not in fear - but in knowing. The stone pulsed once in her hand, and she exhaled.

"It’s calling us forward," she said. "Again."

Jude took her hand. "Together."

They stood and turned back toward the others. No words needed. The change in energy was enough. One by one, the women stirred, drawn to the shift. Lucy sat up first, her hair clinging to her damp shoulder, eyes narrowing at the glow in Rose’s hand.

"What is that?" she asked softly, rising and padding toward them.

Rose extended it.

"A gift. A guide."

The others gathered, circling them once more. Zoey touched the stone and hissed softly at its heat. "It’s alive."

Emma’s hand joined hers. "It’s aware."

Scarlet pressed her fingers to her lips. "It’s listening."

Sophie didn’t touch it. She looked at Jude instead. "What do we do with it?"

Jude took the stone from Rose’s hand. The moment it sat in his palm, the moss beneath them thickened. Vines curled up from the ground like hands, brushing ankles and thighs, not holding - only tasting. The island wanted more. Connection. Unity. Pleasure.

"It wants to join with us," he said, voice low.

Natalie stepped forward and pressed her lips to his shoulder. "Then give it what it wants."

And just like that, the atmosphere thickened again. Not because it was forced. Not because they needed to. Because they wanted to. The air was already saturated with desire, the shared breath of women who had loved each other through storms and silence, the man who had made space for all of them and become the space himself. The stone pulsed in his hand, once... twice... and then it dissolved into light.

It sank into his palm.

His chest lit up in response, golden veins tracing out from the center of his sternum, across his ribs, down his abdomen. The glow slid over his skin like warm oil, outlining every scar, every curve, every strength.

The women watched, breathless.

Then Lucy stepped into him. Her hands found his hips. Her mouth found his throat.

And the others followed.

There was no hesitation.

No division.

Only bodies.

Only mouths.

Only the sound of breath against skin, moans against lips, nails against muscle.

Stella kissed his side as Zoey knelt between his legs, her mouth tracing the line of his thigh.

Scarlet took his hand and placed it between her legs, shuddering at the contact.

Susan lay back and pulled him over her, her breasts crushed against his chest, her thighs already parting.

Grace and Emma tangled beside them, bodies sleek with sweat and glowing light, kissing and gasping, hands roaming freely.

Natalie found Lucy’s mouth, and the two women melted into each other with breathless hunger.

Layla slid up behind Jude, her breasts pressing to his back, her fingers drawing slow circles over his chest. "This is what it means to lead," she whispered into his ear.

And he did.

He moved from one to the next, never rushed, never greedy. He kissed each one with reverence. He entered each with tenderness, with purpose, with fire. They met him with moans and cries, with gasps and hands that pulled him closer. It was more than sex - it was offering. It was unity. It was an answer to the island’s question.

We are here.

We are yours.

Take us.

Keep us.

Make us bloom.

Hours passed.

Their bodies glowed. They burned. They ached and pleaded and came - again and again - until there was no part of them untouched, no breath unshared.