Page 514 of Filthy Elites

How dare he be finished with me? How dare he make me all twisted up inside, while he goes on with his life without a care in the world? Dr. Google seems to think I’m suffering from Stockholm syndrome, which is basically when a captive falls in love with their captor, and I think that might be it. Only it’s not love, it’s lust; animal, primal lust.

I don’t love Sebastian, that’s impossible, but I’m starting to accept that I do want him. My body craves him, or at least the things he can do for me. He thinks he’s done with me, but I have a different plan. I refuse to believe that he can just get over years’ worth of infatuation in an instant and to prove it, I plan to torment him, until he breaks down and fucks me.

What exactly I’ll do after that, I don’t really know, but right now all I can think about is being beneath him again, having his huge dick inside of me, quelling the itch that only he can scratch.

It’s Friday night and for the first time ever, I’m willingly going to a party. Sammy has proved quite the little stalker herself, so instead of fighting to push her away, I think we’ve actually become friends. At the back of my mind, I know that Sebastian will take her from me if I let her get too close, but a periphery friend will be okay, as long as I don’t allow myself to get attached to her.

This party was Sammy’s idea, apparently there’re parties every weekend out in the woods where the freshmen welcome party was held. Although she doesn’t know who hosts them, just that it’s an open invite to all students. When she first suggested we should go together I balked and refused, but now I’m actively trying to piss Sebastian off, what better way to do it than to get dressed up, go out, drink and dance without him?

My closet is still full of all the sexy dresses and outfits he bought for me, although I’ve only worn a couple of the shirts until now. Flipping through the hangers, I discard all the dresses that need more T & A than I currently have, and pull out all the ones that should fit.

I don’t know if he actually chose these things himself, or if he paid a personal shopper to select them for me, because there’s a wide selection ranging from slinky satin minidresses to cute tea dresses, and even a couple of maxi dresses that are super pretty and feminine. Even though I told him these things were more Courtney’s style than my own, now that I’m looking at them more closely, it’s clear that they were picked for me.

The colors are all mostly warm to complement my skin tone, with a few bright pieces dotted in here and there, and the styles are sexy, but not too risqué or slutty. Slipping a deep-red silky dress over my head, I sigh as the cool fabric clings to my skin, hugging my meager curves and fitting like it was designed just for me. The hem ends midthigh, but the loose halter neck closes at the base of my neck, leaving my entire back tantalizingly bare.

I feel unbelievably sexy, but I force myself to take it off and swap it for a black dress with cap sleeves and lace panels that offer a glimpse at my cleavage, and a cute A-line skirt that swirls around my thighs. They’re both beautiful, but when I drop the white dress over my head and smooth it down, I know I’ve found the one.

The bandage-style dress conforms to my body like a second skin, curving upward over my stomach toward a cutout on one side that reveals my skin from my hip to just beneath my breast, with just a hint of underboob visible. The soft fabric feels bonded to my breasts, wrapping tightly around my torso until it splits off into a single asymmetric strap that curves around my collarbone until it meets the fabric at the back.

Something about the way I’m both covered and revealed at the same time makes me feel powerful, and even staring at myself in the mirror I can’t help but pull my shoulders back and stand a little straighter. This dress makes me feel like a fighter, not the weak mouse I’ve been since I ran away.

Adding salt spray to my hair, I tease it into tousled mermaid waves, slide my feet into strappy black sandals —another one of Sebastian’s purchases—and add another coat of mascara to my smoky-eye makeup. Sliding a tube of gloss, my cell phone and key card into a tiny gold purse that has a strap so it hangs from my wrist, I blow myself a kiss in the mirror and head for the door.

If even a tiny part of Sebastian still thinks of me as his, then seeing me in this dress and knowing I’m going to a party without him will push him over the edge. If it doesn’t… then, well, I’m not sure what I’ll do, probably pack up and leave, because even though I shouldn’t, now I don’t have his attention, his eyes, his brand of crazy focused on me, I want it. Fluffing my hair one last time, I pull in a deep breath and then march down the stairs, pushing open my door and striding out onto the landing like I’m inDynastyand in the middle of a slow-mo entrance scene.

“Hey Starling, are you expecting someone, because there’s a chick at the door asking for you,” Clay shouts up the stairs, loud enough for the entire house to hear.

“Yes, let her in and keep your hands to yourself, she’s my friend and off-limits to you guys,” I shout back.

With my hand on the banister to steady myself in my heels I descend the stairs and stride confidently into the foyer where Sammy is standing with all four guys looming around her.

“Starling,” she cries, her lips splitting into a wide grin when she sees me.

“Hey, Sammy, do you want to grab a drink here first, or just head straight over to the party?” I ask, ignoring the incredulous looks I’m getting from all but one of my housemates.

“You’re going to a party?” Evan asks slowly, like he thinks he misheard me or something.

“Yep,” I nod, grabbing Sammy’s arm and dragging her away from the guys and into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door, I pull out a couple of wine coolers and pass one to her. “You look amazing,” I tell her, taking in her tight leopard-print miniskirt and simple tight black cami, tucked in to show off her impressive breasts and flat stomach. It’s a hell of a change from her usual preppy style, but I love it.

“Thanks. My parents prefer me to wear conservative clothes, but I’ve managed to do a little college shopping online since I got here. You look unbelievable by the way, I’m totally straight, but you in that dress is kind of making me question it.”

We both burst out laughing just as Evan, Clay and Hunter storm into the kitchen.

“Who’s the friend, sis?” Evan asks. “And which party are you going to?”

“Sis?” Sammy questions.

Rolling my eyes I shake my head. “Ignore him, we’re not related. This is Evan, he is my mom’s new husband’s son. Then this is Clay and Hunter,” I point to them each in turn. “Guys, this is Sammy, she and I met on our way to orientation.”

“Harsh, sis, you couldn’t have just called me your stepbrother?” Evan smirks.

“No, I couldn’t.”

“So which party did you say it was?” Hunter asks, trying to sound nonchalant.

Sammy opens her mouth to tell them, but I interrupt. “Just some party some people in our history class invited us to.”

“And you’re wearing that?” Clay asks, waving his hand up and down, motioning to my dress.

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