ing her tightly pressed against his body, almost reclining now, he sought her lips.
After a little she pushed him gently away.
You kiss very well, she remarked.
Lasca! I adore you! I want you always!
I'm not going to leave you, she assured him, and now, for the first time he noted a strange, musical throbbing in her voice, and I'm not going to let you go. Didn't I tell you that I always get what I want.
But why do you want me? What can I give to you?
She poised his head between her palms and spoke in a voice raucous with passion: I want you to possess me, to own me. I want to be your slave, your Nigger, your own Nigger!
As Lasca drew her body a little apart from Byron, she inquired. Aren't you hungry?
I don't know. I'm much too happy to know. I love you!
He kissed her throat reverently; it was almost as if it were a ceremony.
So you'd better. You'll never find any one like me for love. I'll spoil all the others for you.
You have already. Oh, Lasca, I want you and nobody but you.
Well, you have me—now.
Promise me it will be for ever.
