Baby, this Fourth of July… you won’t need fireworks.
You’ve got me.
Barely legal, red-lipped, and wrapped tighter than the flag on your front porch.
I’m Ava Monroe—and I’m about to show you what real explosive pleasure feels like.
My outfit? Shorter than your attention span.
My mouth? Hotter than the summer pavement.
And my thighs? Spread wider than your guilty little imagination.
While you’re watching the sky light up in red, white, and blue…
I’ll be lighting you up with every filthy word I whisper into your ear.
Sparklers? Cute.
But I’m the kind of firecracker that leaves you breathless, sweating, and begging for mercy.
I want you stroking slow to the sound of distant fireworks, pretending you’re not picturing me dripping in gloss, straddling your lap in nothing but stars and a sinfully teasing smile.
You want independence?
Not tonight, baby.
Tonight, you submit.
To my voice. My power. My bratty little giggle as I ruin your fireworks show by being the only thing you can focus on.
This is your personal Declaration of Degradation, and Ava Monroe is writing it in lipstick and cum.
So salute me, baby.
And prepare to explode.
—
Ava Monroe
Your Fourth of July firestarter 💋