#NSFWednesday - Pictures of You by Tibby Armstrong

Today's NSFWednesday features an excerpt from Tibby Armstrong's Pictures of You and it's definitely steamy enough to melt the screen as you read...

From the blurb:

Ask any film buff, falling in love with the man you're sworn to protect will get you shot.
Connor Hastings-Doyle hasn't taken a literal bullet for client-turned-lover Jamie Kent, but with the film noir life his fiancé's ex-husband leads, it isn't out of the question.

After an attack leaves Jamie without his memories, Connor is only too glad to whisk him from Anniston Falls, New York, back to the somewhat less dangerous—though equally backstabbing—hotbed of intrigue that is Los Angeles.

Amid the colorless set of his former life, all Jamie knows for certain is that being with Connor illuminates the shadows. Even the loss of everything he used to know can't dim the deep love and trust he feels in this stranger's arms.

As the skeletons of the past begin to rise, some might be better left buried in The Asylum Fight Club's infamous parking lot. Slaying those demons isn't the role either Connor or Jamie signed up for, but together they can finally rescript history to become the heroes of their own Hollywood romance.*

*No bulletproof vest required


"Rainbow hues of violet and indigo,filled Jamie’s vision. Connor’s order had him pressing
back against the foyer wall’s paint-slick surface, arms spread wide. If he worried about the distance it
put between them, he didn’t need to for long.

“Such a pretty wall. How shall I decorate it?” Connor’s objectification of him caught his
breath. He opened his mouth to respond, but light fingers brushed his lips. “Shh… Walls have ears,
but they can’t talk. They can’t make a sound.”

Blood pounded into his dick so fast his knees dipped. He wanted to say, ‘That’s so fucking hot,’
but the game was too fun to destroy with disobedience. His Dom had given him an order, and he
had no reason not to trust that it and each one that followed would lead him and Connor exactly
where they wanted to go. Continuing the caress, Connor traced the edge of his lips past the curve of
the lower, then the upper. Warm fingers worked magic along sensitive bits of skin until tingling
touches provoked a thirst for more, and it was all he could do not to slake his thirst with those three
digits—to suck them into his mouth, where pressure and heat would reduce Connor to an equal
mass of nerves and need.

Except that would put me in control…and that’s the last place I want to be.
“Such fine craftsmanship deserves slow…careful…appreciation.” Connor spoke idly, as if to
himself, his gaze dipping from Jamie’s eyes to his mouth, then lower. “Exploration of every inch
while I search for the best spot to hang my art. Of course, it won’t stay up on its own. It’ll need to
be—” He leaned in, the next word a thick rumble against Jamie’s ear. “—nailed.”

A quiet gasp escaped, prompting Connor’s tsk. Jamie squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself
to remain still and quiet, no matter what. No way would he ruin this treat by being anything less than
one hundred percent perfect. The paintbrush returned, Connor leaning back to sweep its wide
bristles against Jamie’s nipple piercings, just hard enough to spark bright points of sensation that spread outward to his fingertips, down his chest, and to his belly, where they tightened his groin.

More stinging slaps of the brush, side to side, turned into a rhythm that matched the harsh backbeat
and floating chorus of Halsey’s Castle. Memories of bumping and grinding with Reed on a fun night
at The Asylum, the dance club’s strobes creating jagged rainbows across the other sub’s naked chest,
increased the sensuality of the scene Connor spun.

“Open those eyes.” Connor’s nip to his ear had Jamie’s eyes flying open. “Watch.”

Hand between their bodies, Connor rolled the top of Jamie’s shorts past the tip of his dick,
where, strained by the stretchy material just below the head, it pressed flat against his stomach.
Precome and sweat lubed his skin, adding to the sense of being fisted by his clothing. If he shifted
his hips in the slightest, his dick rubbed his own skin. It was difficult to know whether to stay still or
to lean into the sensation. Leaned to one side, Connor took up a new, clean brush and tore into the
plastic wrapping with his teeth. White, sharp, and aggressive, his canines mesmerized Jamie with
what they might do to his flesh—where they might nip and tease—except it wasn’t biting Connor
had in mind. Taking the clean brush, he used the flat edge to sweep over the tip of Jamie’s dick and
soak up the flood of precome.

“So much lovely paint to work with.” Connor hummed in approval as fluid continued to
pulse in time with each heartbeat. “My artwork needs some color.” The paintless brush slid past
Jamie’s lips. “And here.” Then his chin. “And here.”

The warm appreciation in Connor’s gaze made him feel like the world consisted only of him
and his artistic Master. The brush swiped against his dick again, forcing an involuntary double thrust
of his hips. Connor’s response was quick, the maneuver almost too fast for Jamie to understand how
or why his cheek pressed against the wall before his shorts came down and off, and the brush rained
down. Each smack was hard enough, sharp enough, to rock his hips side to side. There was no
holding back his gasps. He’d been naughty, and this was his punishment. To have his ass painted red in a spanking so deliciously thorough he probably could have come from the fiery heat alone. Not
until his cries registered in an incoherent plea for mercy and for more, did the spanking cease.
Lifting him by his hips, Connor brought him to the white hall table. “This should do for a
display place for now.” He laid Jamie on it and grabbed his thighs to roughly sling his legs over his
shoulders. “We’ll nail it here.”

The position had Jamie gazing up at the glass atrium, where shafts of sunlight pierced layers
of clouds, seeming to reach down to touch the glitter paint that covered every inch of Connor’s
front. His man glittered and shone like a million diamonds.

“So beautiful.” Connor whispered the words against Jamie’s lips, claiming them in a kiss that
stole thoughts of the sky, paint, or the world outside of the two of them, along with Jamie’s next

Connor positioned the broad head of his dick against Jamie’s hole, encouraging the slow
joining of their bodies with the help of a packet of lube. The stretch and burn were a homecoming.
Jamie’s body adjusted until the journey toward each other could begin. Jamie’s breath caught in his
chest, his knees grazing his nipple rings with each thrust. Folding him nearly in half, Connor didn’t
give im a millimeter of space, as if he couldn’t bear the any distance between them.

Wetness hit Jamie’s cheeks, emotion overwhelming his mind and his senses.
Connor chased after each tear, kissing it away, his body cradling Jamie’s in a sensual
sweetness. “Hold onto me, sweetheart.”

He brought his arms up, relief flooding him as he was allowed to move, to touch in a way he
hadn’t realized he’d needed. The connection settled his middle until the pulse of his blood and the
fullness in his balls reentered his awareness. Connor made an approving sound, and sweat slid his
torso against the backs of Jamie’s thighs. Sweet kisses turned hungry, Jamie eagerly slanting his
mouth to take everything this man offered. The driving force of their tongues alternately courted and captured slick heat and the sharp scrape of canines. No lips had ever delivered on so much
promise. Drawing back, Jamie adjusted so Connor’s dick slid in deeper. So deep he bit back a gasp.
“You have permission to come whenever you like, and if you hold back there will be an un-
fun spanking at the end of this.” Giving him a mind fuck on top of the real fuck, just the way Jamie
liked, Connor didn’t allow him to respond. Grasping Jamie’s hips, Connor drove into him with a
force that slid the heavy table along the marble. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“No. You.” Jamie ran his hands over Connor’s slick skin, scoring his back with his nails to
mark him.

Head thrown back, every muscle corded, his man appeared like a glittering, living statue. A
piece of art all his own, as he pulled Jamie’s hips toward him with every thrust. The music of skin on
skin, its staccato slapping amplified in the high-ceilinged entryway, blended with the tide that had
rushed in over the past hour and now boomed against the rocks beneath the deck. Fingers digging
into Connor’s forearms, Jamie lifted his hips in time to that rhythm, finding the song that was his
and Connor’s.

No lyrics required.

His climax was the coda, Connor stretching it out until the last notes were wrung from each
of their bodies in a cascade of light and sound. Colors arced between his body and Connor’s, the
foyer transforming from a mundane entry to a private sparkling oasis."

I'm ready to jump into Pictures of You if you are too, grab your e-book copy today!