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DS Ronnie Brooks had been lusting after Junior Crown Prosecutor Alesha Phillips for over three years. From the first moment he saw her. Confident, intelligent, and impossibly sexy in her tailored suits, he wanted her.

Alesha had grown up on a council estate in Hackney, daughter of a white English mother and black Caribbean father, raised by her single mum. She’d fought her way through university on scholarships and sheer determination. Now in her early thirties, with her warm brown complexion, big dark brown eyes, and shoulder-length dark curly hair, she looked every bit the professional, yet underneath that polished exterior was a woman who craved something darker.

That warm summer evening, after a long but triumphant day in court, Ronnie was leaning against his car outside the Old Bailey, waiting for her. When Alesha finally appeared, his cock twitched instantly. They had been shagging now for about three months and he knew exactly what he was in fore.

Her crisp white blouse was stretched tight across her medium-sized but perfectly formed breasts, the buttons straining against her tits. The slim black pencil skirt hugged every curve of her round, curvaceous arse like it had been painted on. Her long, shapely legs were encased in sheer black lace-topped hold-up, and her shiny black stiletto court shoes clicked sharply on the pavement.

“Get in the car, Counsellor,” Ronnie growled as she approached.

The moment the doors shut, the air became thick with lust. As Ronnie pulled into traffic, Alesha turned toward him with a wicked little smile. Slowly, she began unbuttoning her white blouse, revealing the expensive black lace bra that barely contained her breasts.

“Been thinking about your cock all day, Detective,” she purred, running her fingers over the lace. “You like what you see?”

She didn’t stop there. Her fingers moved to her pencil skirt, undoing the buttons all the way up to her waist, spreading the fabric open to reveal her long slim legs in those sheer black stockings and tiny black lace panties already damp with arousal.

Ronnie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. Alesha reached over and rubbed his hardening cock through his trousers, squeezing and stroking him while she took his free hand and guided it between her thighs.

“Feel how wet your filthy black whore is for you,” she whispered seductively, pressing his thick fingers against her warm damp panties. Ronnie rubbed the outer folds her pussy making her moan loudly.

“Such a dirty little slut,” he muttered. “Dressed like a proper prosecutor but dripping for cock.”

By the time they reached his flat, both of them were aching with need.

The second the front door closed, Ronnie pushed her hard against the wall. He grabbed both her wrists and stretched her arms above her head, making her perfect breasts push out and strain against the thin white material of her blouse.

“Look at those tits,” he groaned, holding her wrists tightly high above her head with one big hand while the other slid down her arm and inside her open blouse. He pushed her bra cup up and fondled her breast, pinching and twisting her dark nipple.

Alesha gasped, arching into his touch. “Yes… use me, Ronnie.”

He dragged her by her dark curly hair into the bedroom, making her whimper with pain and excitement. Once inside, he ripped her clothes off with brutal efficiency, buttons flying, skirt torn down her legs, until she stood before him in nothing but her bra, panties, stockings, and shoes.

Ronnie knew exactly what she needed. She had confided in him months ago, following an incident with her gynaecologist during a routine examination. He’d sedated her, spiking her coffee and then fucked her

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