He turned to them, breath catching as each of them stepped closer - not in seduction now, but in worship. Each of them reached for him with reverent hands, touching his shoulders, his chest, his face. Their love didn't burn this time - it soothed. And yet, it aroused in a way that defied the laws of lust.
Sophie stepped behind him, her hands on his waist. Lucy pressed her lips to his spine. Emma's fingers slid down his arms. Stella knelt and kissed his thighs. Grace's mouth brushed his shoulder. They adored him. They honored him.
And when Rose placed her hand over his heart, everything shifted.
"You are not the last note," she whispered. "You are the first."
The pool behind him rippled.
A platform rose from its center - moss-covered, warm, shaped like a bed of vines.
Jude walked to it as if in trance, and lay upon it. The women circled him, their bodies glowing, their eyes filled with desire and devotion. And then they climbed onto the platform.
One by one.
Not to take him.
