The Princess tasted good, almost too good.  In fact, each and every one of Orion’s senses were firing on all cylinders.  Name it, and Cassiopeia had it covered.  In spades.  He’d also like to cover her, though not in their current, respective manner of dress.  Or undress.<br/><br/>“What would you like for lunch?” she casually asked.  Funny that, as Orion thought he was already<i>looking </i>at lunch.  And at appetizers.  And especially, at dessert.<br/><br/>So, the Princess was also thinking about a wrap.  He was, too, though their ideas of a wrap were, more than likely, not anywhere close to each other.<br/><br/>Pasta was another of her potential choices?  That would work, too.  She’d be the pasta.  He’d be the sauce.  Or at least,<i>supply</i>the sauce.<br/><br/>A smorgasbord was yet another suggestion?  As far as the Prince was concerned, choices were getting better and better.  Cassiopeia was, for all intents and purposes, a smorgasbord all by herself.  Orion just found it difficult as to where to start.  Her mouth and shoulder had already been explored, but there were far, far more enticing locales to discover.<br/><br/>“What do I think?” Orion asked, confirming her question.  A knock at the secondary door delayed his response.  Because the knock came from the alternative door to his bedroom, he knew it could only be Bernard on the other side.  “That depends, Highness,” he whispered, inches from her face.  “Do you want lunch?  Or something else?”