He's in too deep and unwilling to go back... the only thing more dangerous than choosing between the possessive boyfriend and the cheshire-grinning tattoo artist is making no decision at all.
Trinket met Mini under odd circumstances - Mini the tattoo artist working late, Trinket the customer getting inked to commemorate a two year anniversary with his longterm boyfriend. Their hookup shouldn't have happened at all, and at least should have lasted that evening and gone no further. Instead, it's evolving rapidly into a game of chicken Trinket is playing with himself.
Things with boyfriend Siebold 'Zee' Li have never been better... or more complicated. Trinket finds himself bolder in the bedroom, but loses his nerve outside of it. His domestic bliss with Zee doesn't feel like a cage, but Trinket is beginning to see the bars. When Zee's coworker glances at Trinket's empty ring finger, Trinket panics. The one he calls to cope is Mini - a man becoming not just side piece, but confidant.
Zee doesn't know he's in competition with another man, but he can sense things aren't right at home. He tries new things in and out of the bedroom - introducing toys, making grand romantic gestures - but his boundary-pushing stands a change of triggering the already unstable Trinket into making things even worse.
Lost in the Linework is the 30k word follow-up to A Taste of Ink, giving readers another taste of the chaos. This book contains cheating, kinky sex, unsafe and risky sexual behavior, and does not end with a HEA/HFN but continues the story leading into part 3.
Trinket put the phone down for a second, catching Zee’s eye and mouthing ‘work.’ Zee only smiled and nodded.
Trinket made a show of checking his pockets, taking the time under the table to tuck his erection up into the waistband off his pants. Then he walked off speedily.
He didn’t know where the fuck he was going, he only walked.
“Come on, say something,” said Mini in his ear. “It’s been two weeks. You aren’t tired of the game yet, are you? You didn’t tell him, did you?”
“Of course not,” said Trinket immediately.
He found himself pushing open the doors to the stairwell, leading up to the parking garage.READ MORE
“Of course not,” repeated Mini, but he said it in an almost adoring croon, loving Trinket’s bad choices. “Has he been fucking you really good? Have you been bending over for him every night? Has he been pulling on your nice, shiny hair?”
“Yes,” whispered Trinket.
What the fuck else was he supposed to say?
“I really can’t talk,” he said helplessly. “We’re out in public; at a restaurant. His colleagues are here.”
“But you crept away to talk to me,” said Mini. “God. Slut.”
“What do you want?” demanded Trinket, the flames in his face filling his whole body. “If you wanted me to listen to you come, just do it. I’m listening.”
“I wanna hear you say it,” said Mini.
“Say you miss me.”
Mini’s voice was a laughing singsong, a tease, but with a gloating air of being absolutely certain of a truth.
“Say you miss my tongue, my mouth. Say you’re going fucking crazy thinking about what I might do to you next. I bet you’ve thought about all of it — every possible situation that might happen in that shop. You want it so bad.”