Page 114 of The Jaded Notes

“Good.” His lips press against my shoulder blade. “And what do you need tonight?”

I close my eyes, letting myself sink into the headspace that’s become my sanctuary. “I need to let go. The launch stress, the constant decisions, and the demands of everything… I need it to be quiet.”

His hands settle on my hips.

“I know.” He traces circles with his thumb against my skin. “You’ve been carrying too much again.”

He’s right. The past few weeks building toward the Lehlani Rose Designs launch have left me wound tight, my mind racing with endless details and what-ifs. The success I’ve had has been everything I dreamed of, but the pressure has been suffocating.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against my ear.

We’ve built up to this moment over months of careful exploration. Trust exercises. Boundaries tested and respected. But tonight is different, like we’re standing at the edge of something more profound.

I’m consenting to being whipped, and that’s something I never saw myself wanting. But Jax has communicated his needs and desires with me, and for that, I want to see if this is something I’ll enjoy.

“I want you to use the flogger, sir.”

He goes still behind me. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.” I turn my head slightly. “I trust you, my king. Completely.”

His hands slide up to cup my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. The intensity there makes my stomach flutter, equal parts nurturing and passionate.

“We’ve talked about this, Livianna. Once we cross this line…”

“I know.” I lean into his touch. “Sir, I’m ready. I need the release, and for you to be the one to give it to me. I’ve hadsuch an urge to cut on my wrists, and need this more than you know.”

He studies my face for a long moment, weighing my words against his own protective instincts.

Finally, he nods. “Safewords?”

“Pause if I need to rest or have something adjusted, and final if I need to stop.”

“And if you can't speak?”

“Three taps.” I demonstrate with my toes against his shin.

He kisses me deeply before moving away. He crosses the room. The soft leather whispers through the air as he selects the implement. My heart pounds with anticipation and nervous energy.

“Breathe, Livianna.” His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Let everything else fall away. There’s only this moment. Only us.”

I close my eyes and focus on his words, on the trust we’ve built, on the way he’s held me through every breakdown and celebration this past year and a half.

The first strike is barely more than a caress against my backside, warming the skin. I gasp softly, my body already beginning to respond to the ritual.

“That’s it,mon trésor.Let your mind be quiet.”

The second hit has more force, and my endorphins begin to rise—that sweet chemical flood that washes away everything except sensation.

“How are you feeling, Livianna?”

“Good, like I’m about to float.” All the noise in my head, all the pressure and responsibility fade away with each careful impact.

He escalates the intensity, reading my responses, pushing me deeper into that space where nothing exists except this moment, this trust, and this release.

“I need more,” I whisper when the gentle rhythm isn’t enough to crack through the walls I’ve built around my pain.

“Are you certain?”