Captive Heart (Club Risque Book 6)

by Poppy Flynn

  Micah shrugged. "She left me," he replied bluntly. It wasn't something he liked to talk about. "She felt I couldn't give her what she wanted so she found someone whom she thought would."

  "Is she happy now?" Melody asked shyly, curious, her forehead wrinkling as her eyes widened in what…disbelief? Disbelief that Sara had left him without trying to compromise or disbelief that he hadn't wanted what Sara had offered, the same thing she had offered.

  "No," Micah bit out, withdrawing his hands and looking away. "She's dead."

  Micah acknowledged Melody's sharply indrawn breath, but she still took him by surprise as she launched herself on him, feathering desperate kisses to his neck and face, murmuring her sympathy and condolences before she pressed tightly against him. Her dainty, unfettered breasts mashed against his chest and her arms tightened fiercely around his neck while he listened to her heaving breath right next to his ear.

  Instinct had him closing his own arms around her, holding her tight and closing his eyes. Accepting the gift of consolation that she gave as she tried to comfort him and pour her own brand of solace onto his tortured soul, he nevertheless tried to ignore the effect her spontaneous affection had on his rapidly hardening cock.

  Hell, maybe he was hungry for affection himself, after the stress of having to deal with the gradual retraction of Sara's emotional warmth and love as she'd tried to manipulate him into yielding to her demands by withdrawing the things he treasured most. Never mind his own subsequent withdrawal from relationships altogether in the aftermath of what had become bitter and adversarial, no matter how many times he'd begged her to take his own feelings into consideration.

  Even his fuck buddy relationship with Trinity had been rather clinical, each of them scratching the occasional itch with a strict, no strings philosophy while they each nursed their own bruised emotions and stoically refused to move past them.

  "We're getting off track," he finally chided with a lopsided smile to soften the rebuke. "This was supposed to be about you."

  She eased her hold and sat back on her haunches, still straddling his knee. The gentle curve of her buttocks slid against the rock-hard erection he was now sporting, in a way that she surely couldn't miss. Well, he thought ruefully, he guessed that answered her other question.

  "There's no point in trying to deny that I find you desirable," he conceded, holding her waist lightly and leaning his head back against the seat while he stared at the ceiling, trying to get his unruly dick back under control before he freaked the poor girl out.

  "But you won't let me take care of you," Melody stated in confusion as she adjusted her body more comfortably against his, rocking softly against him in the process and causing him to grit his teeth.

  "Melody, sweetheart. You are not a vessel for me to pick up and use when the mood takes me, only to be put aside afterward." A sliver of something that felt remarkably close to guilt slithered down his spine as it occurred to him that the very scenario he was opposing with Melody was one which, for all intents and purposes, was exactly the kind of relationship he had shared with Trinity.

  God damn it! It isn't the same, he told himself fiercely. Trinity had offered herself freely to that relationship.

  So did Melody, that contrary little voice inside his head insisted. Still not the same; those had been as much Trinity's terms as his. Neither of them had wanted involvement.

  Jesus, lay off! Micah told his irritating conscience. Trinity was happy now, and for a little while, they had both eased the loneliness for each other. There was nothing for him to be ashamed of in that relationship. They were both adults and they had both known exactly what they were doing.

  And that, Micah realised with a mental sigh of relief, was exactly why it was different from the situation he found himself in with Melody. He and Trinity had formed a mutually symbiotic non-relationship that suited each of their emotional circumstances.

  Melody, on the other hand, was simply reacting in the only way she knew how, and that was to align herself as a slave, whose job it was to serve, regardless of her own needs.

  What Micah needed to do right now, was work out exactly what Melody's needs were so that he could make sure she started to look to herself for her own fulfilment rather than always feeling obligated to serve someone else's. The very last thing he wanted was to have her heal physically but not to have dealt with the emotional processes which caused her to think the way she currently did. The only thing that would achieve, would be to drive her into the arms of yet another man who would take advantage of the things Melody felt she was required to give, rather than focusing on the mutual benefits she might receive from a relationship.

  And that was exactly why he needed to keep his own damn libido under control, so that he didn't find himself guilty of taking advantage of the things she offered, unthinkingly, to him, the very things he was trying to protect her from.

  He wrenched his mind back on track. "You're worth more than that," he told her insistently. "What you need to think about, what I want you to think about, is what you want for yourself.

  He cupped her face in his hands once more, pinning her with his gaze and willing her to understand. "I will help you with anything that is within my power to provide, Melody." His voice took on a new urgency with the next words he spoke. "But it has got to be something that you need for yourself. Not something I want, not something you think I want, not something you feel you need to do for me or for anyone else. Only something that is just for you! Understand?"

  Melody nodded mutely, her eyes huge and hopeful, and Micah felt a surge of optimism that she had understood and was ready to demand something for herself.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again, looking away, but not before he had seen the look of uncertainty wavering in her eyes, as if she desperately wanted something but dare not ask.

  Anticipation thrummed that there was something, anything, one single thing that she would ask for and that he could give her to break the negative, detrimental cycle she was in and place her firmly on the road to putting herself first. She just needed a little coaxing.

  "Look at me, Melody," he demanded, waiting patiently until she turned uncertain eyes to his once more. "You thought of something then…" It was a statement not a question. "Was it something you want, something you need?" he coaxed.

  She didn't turn her head away, but her lips thinned, and she kept her eyes downcast, giving just a rapid, single nod in confirmation.

  "Is it something I can help with?"

  She didn't reply for what seemed like forever, but more worrying was the way she seemed to shrink and withdraw right in front of his eyes.

  "Melody?" he queried urgently. He couldn't let this go. He couldn't allow her to retreat and deny herself whatever it was that had just fleetingly flashed across her mind. It was imperative for her psychological wellbeing that she embrace that thought, that need, and see it through to completion, to prove to herself that she was allowed to acknowledge her own cravings and have those needs met wherever it was feasibly possible. She needed to understand that she was worthy in her own right and that she had control over her own destiny. He couldn't back down now. That would only reinforce her belief that she was worthless and unentitled and do even more damage to an already damaged self-worth.

  "Is it something I can help with?" he reiterated insistently.

  This time, there was the briefest shrug of a single shoulder and she still stoically refused to look at him.

  "Tell me!" he demanded in his best Dom voice, hoping she would at least respond to the authority. It was a contradictory move, since he was trying to push her into being more independent, but if it worked…well, all she needed to do was to take that first step. That would always be the most difficult. And Micah would use whatever means he could to coax her into a little bit of self-belief.

  "I need to be punished," she said in a tiny voice.

  Micah did his best not to recoil.

  Damn it all! He had thought he was getting t
hrough to her, thought she was beginning to understand and accept that this didn't need to be the way. He clenched his jaw, willing away the frustration and the disappointment that he didn't want her picking up on.

  "Melody," he cajoled softly instead, lifting her chin with a single finger crooked under her chin. "I thought you understood that what happened to you before was abuse. There won't be any more beatings or neglect."

  A single tear slowly trickled down her cheek, more welling in her tragic eyes as she finally raised them to look at him. Her lip trembled as the tear found its way to the corner of her mouth.

  "You don't understand!" she accused with heart breaking despair. "How can I let go of the guilt I feel at taking what wasn't mine, of stealing things from those people, if no one disciplines me for it? You might say you will make it right for them, but who is going to make it right with me?"

  Another tear welled and escaped, mirroring the first as Micah sat looking at her in what surely must be shock and a sudden, uncomfortable comprehension as he realised that he'd made a colossal mistake.

  He'd allowed his emotional involvement to cloud his professional judgement to the extent that he'd been unable to see what was staring him blatantly in the face. There was a reason why psychologists were prohibited from practicing on friends or relatives, and this was it. You simply got too close to the situation to be able to see it clearly.

  He'd been so busy trying to protect Melody from what he had perceived as the manipulated mind-set that she was nothing more than a slave, he had overlooked the glaring fact that she was inherently submissive and undoubtedly slightly masochistic. She craved discipline as part of this lifestyle, not because it had been beaten into her that this was all she was allowed, but because she needed it for herself in her own right.

  Not only that, but he had mistakenly assumed that she, herself, had perceived her treatment as abuse, because it was forced on her, had scared her, and she had run from it.

  In fact, Melody's perception was blessedly one dimensional.

  She had been a slave, and despite being a brute, V had been her master, so it was her place to obey him and be punished if she failed. Nothing more, nothing less.

  Insisting that she acknowledge what had occurred as something far more cruel and ominous was a grave mistake that could only cause more damage to her psyche. Because, while she viewed it as part and parcel of a specific dynamic, even one she had been forced to endure, it also meant that she had the mental ability to put it behind her far more quickly than she would if she did view it as abuse. This way, it was simply something that had happened within a single aspect of her life, one which was now over. It was something she could put behind her, whereas the psychology of abuse would follow her for the rest of her life.

  God, what an idiot he had been! He'd been close to letting her down, just the way he'd let Sara down.

  But maybe even more disquieting was the fact that he had promised in no uncertain terms that he would provide whatever she needed if it were within his power to do so.

  Micah understood the psychology of the BDSM lifestyle better than anyone. He had done detailed investigation and analysis into the D/s dynamic and the unique balance of the power exchange.

  Right now, it was completely fair to say that it wasn't Melody who had an issue with the practice and procedure; it was him!

  Chapter 9

  Micah sucked in a breath, his mind reeling. He had made promises and assurances which would have catastrophic consequences if he went back on them. Not only would he risk undermining Melody's own self-belief, which he had been working so hard to encourage, but he would destroy her faith in him and the value of his words, causing everything to spiral backward into a damaging web of uncertainty and insecurity which would undermine everything he had built so far. And yet the thought of providing discipline to a woman who had been so badly misused and mistreated turned his stomach until his entire body was rigidly tensed at the prospect.

  Jesus Christ! He had to pull himself together and get his head in the game before he did more harm than good. And the first thing he needed to do was to re-evaluate his own misconceptions. Micah drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes and re-centred himself.

  It was fairly straight forward; Melody was asking for a spanking. That was certainly something that Micah could provide.

  Not only that, but her perceptions of why she needed discipline were nothing to do with her mistreatment; they were a relatively objective motivation of cause and effect, guilt and forgiveness. It was a way for her to absolve herself of the guilt she felt over taking something that wasn't hers, even though it was necessary to save her life and even though he had said he would correct the situation. This was Melody's own proactive way toward forgiving herself. And Micah knew just how important that was.

  He had known that something had been eating at her and he had encouraged her to talk about that and ask for what she needed. Now it was up to him to put his money where his mouth was. It would be okay. He could make this into a learning experience. He just needed to put aside his own misplaced biases and trust Melody to understand her own needs, just as he had been encouraging her to do.

  Far worse would be for him to stipulate and insist on that process and then tell her she didn't know what she was doing. He needed to believe in her, not undermine her.

  She was strong, he already knew that, and he had to support that she knew her own mind, otherwise, any insight he offered her was worthless or, worse, detrimental to what he was trying to achieve.

  But he did need to consider his own feelings in this scenario. For his own peace of mind, he had to ensure that he kept this as far away from any of the negatives she had endured as he could. He wished he knew more about the specifics of both her previous relationships, so he could steer clear of anything which might provide a trigger. At the end of the day, he guessed that Daddy was less of an issue, since there was clearly some affection there.

  But V…Micah didn't want anything he did to have resonance there.

  Adopting a calm composure that he was far from feeling, Micah met Melody's tearful gaze assuredly. "Okay." He nodded his assent. "That is something I can help you with, but it will be on my terms, understand?"

  Melody nodded enthusiastically, a little spark of something akin to joy lighting her features, which at least went some way to easing Micah's misgivings.

  As he tried not to feel like he was winging it, Micah catalogued most likely scenarios alongside what he knew about Melody's prior treatment. He knew from her injuries that V had used a whip and the type of bondage which had caused abrasions and laceration to her wrists and ankles, so he'd be avoiding all those things.

  Plus, he'd kept her naked, so he wasn't going to go there, either, but she still needed to believe he was taking this seriously and not just patronising her.

  "Lay over my knee, Melody." He patted his thigh, injecting the necessary command into his voice.

  Her breath shuddered in anticipation and she bit her lip. Micah quirked a single eyebrow at her which had her scrambling to do his bidding. He swallowed his amusement and concentrated on being what she needed him to be.

  Since she had alluded to the use of a hairbrush paddle and a spanking bench with Daddy, Micah was going to avoid those, too, even though she had inferred something close to affection for them. He wanted this experience to be exclusive to the pair of them, though it was likely that she'd received an over-knee, bare hand spanking as part of her dynamic with her daddy. Micah, however, was not going to be treating her as a little.

  Right on the heels of that thought, he found himself surprised at how awkward she was in placing herself over his knee.

  "Have you never been over a man's knee before?" he couldn't help asking as she toppled forward and tried to balance herself with her hands on the floor.

  "No, Sir," she panted. "Daddy had arthritis in his knees and couldn't bear my weight."

  Micah tried to ignore the little stab of satisfaction that rippled through
him at that piece of information, but he didn't entirely succeed. It was only because it played into his desire to keep this separate from her other experiences, he told himself stubbornly, even while a certain contentment blossomed in his chest.

  Micah shoved the sensation aside and firmed his lips. "Well, this is how I'm going to give you a spanking," he informed her, dragging her into position and using one of his powerful legs to pinion her own, immobilising her at the same time as providing support. "You will count each one, and if you miss, we'll start again from the beginning. Understand?"

  "Yes, Sir!" It was no more than a whisper, but Micah could have sworn he picked up an undercurrent of anticipation in her voice. Or was that just his own wishful thinking in order to justify these actions to his burdened mind?

  Micah stretched his hand across the far side of Melody's body, wrapping his fingers around her slender waist to hold her in place while he pushed the stretchy fabric of her leggings down to bare her backside with a broad palm that swept across her buttocks. He felt the indrawn breath she failed to curtail along with her surprise, and that was good. Micah fully intended that his brand of discipline was going to be unlike any other she had ever encountered.

  As he rubbed his hands across the globes of her buttocks, he prepared her skin to prevent it from bruising. Whatever happened, he wasn't adding that to his conscience.

  "Right, nice and loud with an appropriate thank you after each one," Micah ordered, pulling his palm away from her warm skin and delivering the first swat.

  "One. Thank you, Sir," Melody replied dutifully.

  Micah kept the first five light, intending to build up his cadence until he could judge her pain threshold but, already, he could feel the frustration bubbling in the tone of her voice, telling him that she didn't think he was doing his job sufficiently. Well, he knew how to deal with that.

  The next two slaps landed hard on the fleshiest part of each individual buttock. He had taken her by surprise with the significant raise in intensity, and a little squeal slipped out ahead of her subsequent count. Micah tried hard not to chuckle but allowed himself to grin since she couldn't see his face. He rained down a quick flurry of equally potent swats, turning her butt a rosy pink and bringing a breathless quality to her voice which he enjoyed far too much.