Page 120 of Toxic

"If you don't want—"

"I trust you." Her eyes fly open, and she lifts her arms.

Part of me is elated, ready to do all the things I've wanted. But a tiny part of me questions if I'm about to do something I shouldn't. "Are you sure?"

She keeps her hands in the air and presses so close, her hard nipples graze my skin. Her voice strengthens, and she squares her shoulders. "I'm yours to do whatever you want to."

24

Bridget

My heart is poundingagainst my chest cavity. Dante's tied my hands behind my back or to headboards, but it's nothing Sean hadn't done to me before. Something about the metal-hinged handcuffs makes me nervous. I try to sound as confident as I can, but as soon as I tell Dante to do what he wants, another flashback of the night Sean died appears.

This is Dante.

This isn't them.

I close my eyes, pushing it away like I've learned to do over the years.

Get a grip.

Don't let your past ruin your future.

Dante's fingers caress my cheeks. "Dolcezza—"

"Fuck me how you want," I firmly state, keeping my arms over my head.

"Are you—"

"Dante, squeeze my throat when you kiss me."

His lips twitch and fire blazes in his eyes. "Is that what you think of? Me squeezing your throat, kissing you, with adrenaline surging through your body?"

"Yes," I admit, my breath hitching at the thought.

The night of Sean's murder, one of the Rossi men squeezed my throat so hard, I blacked out. It confused me when Dante did it. I enjoyed it. Sean never squeezed my throat. The first time any man did was the night of his murder. But something about Dante doing it turns me on. I spent hours analyzing it afterward. I finally came to the conclusion I trust Dante with every part of my body. He would never cut off my air supply and make me black out or kill me. And maybe that is why what he does makes me wet, even after that horrific night.

Dante's hands slide under the collar. He adds pressure to my neck.

I gasp, my pussy clenching, and I stare at him in anticipation.

His lips touch mine as he says, "Have you used nipple clamps before?"

"No," I barely get out. New flutters hit my belly, which surprises me. They aren't bad flutters but full of excited anticipation. Nipple clamps have always scared me, but everything Dante does reiterates he knows exactly how to make my body feel good.

Darkness fills his expression. It's a look that makes me shift on my feet. Every time I see it, I become a wet puddle, weak-kneed and pining for every deviant thing he'll do to me. He slides his hands up my arms, creating a buzz of electricity that races down my spine. He cuffs my wrists and curls his fingers around mine. His hot breath enters my mouth as he gazes down at me.

I wait for him to speak, my pulse racing, a drop of arousal dripping down my thigh and the scent of it flaring in my nostrils.

"So you're finally mine, after all these years." It's more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," I reaffirm, finally owning all the feelings I have for him, then adding, "And you're mine."

Something tender flickers in his eyes. He dips down and slides his tongue in my mouth, rolling it quickly, then deepening the kiss until I feel pressure on my nipple.

I inhale sharply.

He moves his hands to my other breast and secures the other clamp to it.

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