I want a man who wants ME. Someone I can tell my deepest desires and feel no shame or embarrassment.
I want a man who can look past the boyish body and the grease beneath my nails to see the woman I am. I need a man who will see me as the sexual creature I am, not just as “one of the guys” or the girl mechanic with the magic touch. He’ll see me, want me, and take pride in knowing I am his—and that I’ll do anything for him.
Ronnie stared down at the words she’d just written and sucked in a deep breath. It was one thing to have those thoughts when lying in bed alone at night and another to see them in stark black and white. Knowing that others were going to read them made her feel very raw—exposed in a way she’d never really anticipated.
“Get used to it,” she muttered to herself before taking a sip from the glass of Don Julio in front of her. It was the good stuff, a treat to herself on her thirty-fourth birthday. Too bad she had nobody to share it with.
Which brought her right back to the application forms in front of her.
She’d laid it all out—the fantasy man she’d been dreaming of for as long as she could remember, even though she didn’t really believe it was possible to find him. That was okay, though. She was ready to settle for just the sexual fantasy. Since she was giving up on the romantic one, maybe she should scratch out the last line of her answer.
With a glance around her empty apartment, and a nod to the bottle of tequila in front of her, Ronnie decided to leave it as it was. Mason Hardin, the guy who’d sent her the membership applications and information on Overwatch, had said to be as honest and to-the-point as possible when she filled out the forms, so she’d listen to him. And the truth was, no matter how cynical she’d become in her mind, deep in her heart she still held the same dream almost every woman did—that there was a Mr. Perfect-for-her out there somewhere.
Men never saw her as anything more than the female mechanic with the magic touch. She was great with engines, could make any of them purr like a kitten or roar like a lion. But with men? Not so great. This was Los Angeles, where super-models and actresses walked the streets and the average woman was a D cup. Men looked at her plain features, straight body, and the grease under her fingernails ... and she disappeared as a woman.
To them, she was just one of the guys, another mechanic in the shop. She was barely a female in their minds, let alone an attractive one, and she was tired of it. She wanted to be seen as a woman. A strong, sexy, desirable woman who inspired lust and all sorts of dirty thoughts in a man. And she wanted to follow through on those dirty thoughts.
It might be wrong to admit it, but she dreamed of being a man’s sexual plaything. Of being touched, teased, and used. Ultimately, she wanted a man who would love that about her, one who would cherish the gift she’d make of herself in the bedroom, but she was thinking that was an impossible dream. Getting into Overwatch would help her figure that out, and filling out this questionnaire was the first step to getting there.
If approved, this would get her enrolled into a program geared specifically to training her as a sexual submissive at a real club with people who knew what they were doing. Without a partner she could trust to explore with, it was the only safe way to figure out if the men she was meeting were truly the problem, or if her dream was simply unrealistic. Only, it involved making herself completely vulnerable to men and women she’d never met and really knew nothing about.
She sighed.
Joining Overwatch was either the smartest thing she’d ever do or the dumbest.
CHAPTER ONE
Ian Johnson stared down at the handwritten words on the application in front of him. It was a bold answer, an honest answer. The way the letters started to slant and wobble toward the end made it clear the author’s emotions had leaked into her
I want a man who can look past the boyish body and the grease beneath my nails to see the woman I am. I need a man who will see me as the sexual creature I am, not just as “one of the guys” or the girl mechanic with the magic touch. He’ll see me, want me, and take pride in knowing I am his—and that I’ll do anything for him.
Ronnie stared down at the words she’d just written and sucked in a deep breath. It was one thing to have those thoughts when lying in bed alone at night and another to see them in stark black and white. Knowing that others were going to read them made her feel very raw—exposed in a way she’d never really anticipated.
“Get used to it,” she muttered to herself before taking a sip from the glass of Don Julio in front of her. It was the good stuff, a treat to herself on her thirty-fourth birthday. Too bad she had nobody to share it with.
Which brought her right back to the application forms in front of her.
She’d laid it all out—the fantasy man she’d been dreaming of for as long as she could remember, even though she didn’t really believe it was possible to find him. That was okay, though. She was ready to settle for just the sexual fantasy. Since she was giving up on the romantic one, maybe she should scratch out the last line of her answer.
With a glance around her empty apartment, and a nod to the bottle of tequila in front of her, Ronnie decided to leave it as it was. Mason Hardin, the guy who’d sent her the membership applications and information on Overwatch, had said to be as honest and to-the-point as possible when she filled out the forms, so she’d listen to him. And the truth was, no matter how cynical she’d become in her mind, deep in her heart she still held the same dream almost every woman did—that there was a Mr. Perfect-for-her out there somewhere.
Men never saw her as anything more than the female mechanic with the magic touch. She was great with engines, could make any of them purr like a kitten or roar like a lion. But with men? Not so great. This was Los Angeles, where super-models and actresses walked the streets and the average woman was a D cup. Men looked at her plain features, straight body, and the grease under her fingernails ... and she disappeared as a woman.
To them, she was just one of the guys, another mechanic in the shop. She was barely a female in their minds, let alone an attractive one, and she was tired of it. She wanted to be seen as a woman. A strong, sexy, desirable woman who inspired lust and all sorts of dirty thoughts in a man. And she wanted to follow through on those dirty thoughts.
It might be wrong to admit it, but she dreamed of being a man’s sexual plaything. Of being touched, teased, and used. Ultimately, she wanted a man who would love that about her, one who would cherish the gift she’d make of herself in the bedroom, but she was thinking that was an impossible dream. Getting into Overwatch would help her figure that out, and filling out this questionnaire was the first step to getting there.
If approved, this would get her enrolled into a program geared specifically to training her as a sexual submissive at a real club with people who knew what they were doing. Without a partner she could trust to explore with, it was the only safe way to figure out if the men she was meeting were truly the problem, or if her dream was simply unrealistic. Only, it involved making herself completely vulnerable to men and women she’d never met and really knew nothing about.
She sighed.
Joining Overwatch was either the smartest thing she’d ever do or the dumbest.
CHAPTER ONE
Ian Johnson stared down at the handwritten words on the application in front of him. It was a bold answer, an honest answer. The way the letters started to slant and wobble toward the end made it clear the author’s emotions had leaked into her
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