I Don't Care If He's Upstairs.

It's the middle of the night and you creep down to the kitchen like you always do; Like I knew you would.

I don't care about the ring. I don't care that the man who stole you is one floor up.

That pussy still knows its owner — and tonight I'm taking it back. Quiet. Deep. Until you’re dripping my load. Crawling back into your bed with me still inside you.

Sweet Dreams, Mrs. Mine