Coach’s Pet

MM Hockey Romance
by Chase Power

Available at all major retailers

Pairing: MM
Heat: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ Inferno
Tropes: Coach/Player, Age Gap, Praise Kink, D/s Dynamic, Secret Relationship, Forbidden Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Brat/Tamer, Slow Burn

Good boy on the ice. His pet off it.

Jamie Kincaid is a twenty-one-year-old rookie forward with the fastest hands in the league and zero sense of discipline. Cocky, mouthy, and one bad shift away from being sent back to the minors — he’s a highlight reel looking for a system.

Cole Maddox is a thirty-six-year-old assistant coach and former enforcer who’s spent a decade learning how to channel power into care. Stoic, controlled, and haunted by an ex who called him a warden — he’s a dom without a sub and a coach without a project.

When Cole is tasked with developing the team’s most talented and most infuriating prospect, their on-ice clashes become something neither of them expected: a secret D/s relationship where praise kink meets professional discipline, where “good boy” crosses from the rink to the bedroom, and where a silver chain hidden under a hockey jersey becomes the most dangerous symbol in professional sports.

But coach-player relationships end careers. When rumors surface and the walls close in, Cole will have to choose between the bench he’s spent his life earning and the man he can’t live without. And Jamie will have to decide if the man who taught him to kneel is also the man worth standing up for.

You’ll love this book if you enjoy:

✅ Coach/player forbidden romance with real stakes
✅ Age gap (15 years) with power exchange that’s earned, not assumed
✅ Praise kink so intense it rewires both characters
✅ D/s dynamic woven into hockey coaching (drills as foreplay)
✅ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ — graphic, explicit, emotional, FILTHY
✅ A collar ceremony that will make you ugly-cry
✅ Found family hockey team with the best supporting cast
✅ HEA guaranteed — these men earn every inch of their happy ending

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⚠️ Content Warning: This novel contains explicit sexual content (graphic MM scenes including D/s dynamics, spanking, orgasm denial, collar play, and praise-based power exchange), strong language, depictions of past sexual coercion, sports-related violence, and themes of anxiety and identity. Intended for readers 18+.

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Chapter One

The phone rang while Jamie was balls-deep in a dream about scoring on a breakaway in a sold-out arena.

He fumbled for it on the nightstand, knocking over a half-empty Gatorade and a roll of athletic tape. The screen was too bright. His eyes were crusted with sleep. The futon beneath him creaked like it was begging to be put out of its misery.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

“Jamie. It’s Rick.”

Rick Pelletier. His agent. Rick never called before noon unless someone was dead or someone was getting paid.

Jamie sat up. “What happened?”

“You’re going up.”

“What?”

“Morrow tweaked his groin in morning skate. They need a body. You’re the body. Titans want you on the ice for practice tomorrow morning, seven AM. Pack your shit.”

“Jamie. You there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here. I’m — fuck. Fuck. Rick, are you serious?”

“Don’t be a dumbass up there.”

He hung up. Jamie stared at the phone for three full seconds. Then he threw his pillow across the room and screamed into his fists.

He called his mom first. She picked up on the second ring because she always picked up on the second ring, no matter what.

“Nothing’s wrong. Mom. I got called up.”

Silence. Then a sound that broke him open — a wet, shuddering breath, the kind she made when she was trying not to cry in front of him.

“Oh, Jamie.”

“Mom, don’t — if you cry I’m gonna cry and I have to drive four hours.”

He called Becca. “I got called up.”

“Well, don’t be a dumbass up there.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because we know you.”

The Titans’ practice facility was a different universe. Glass and steel and corporate logos the size of sedans.

“Tanner Riggs.” He reached across and shook Jamie’s hand. “You’re the call-up?”

“Cool. Don’t touch my coffee, don’t use my shower stall — and don’t try to impress anyone in the first five minutes.”

Jamie grinned. “What about the first six minutes?”

“Six minutes, do whatever you want.”

He heard Cole Maddox before he saw him. Not his voice. His skates. Heavy, deliberate edges cutting into the fresh sheet.

Cole Maddox was the biggest person on the ice by a margin that was almost insulting. Six-three, maybe six-four, with shoulders that looked like they’d been designed by someone who hated doorframes. His jaw was a straight line. His nose had been broken at least twice. There was a scar through his left eyebrow, thin and white, the kind you get from a fist, not a puck.

They were running a three-on-two zone entry drill. Jamie received the puck at the blue line. Instead of chipping it deep, he pulled the puck to his backhand, faked a dump, dragged it through the first defenseman’s feet, toe-dragged around the second, and roofed a wrist shot over the goalie’s glove.

The whistle blew. Maddox skated to center ice. Everyone stopped.

“What was the play?”

“I scored.”

“I didn’t ask what happened. I asked what the play was.”

“You ignored the system, took a risk that works maybe one time in five at this level, and happened to get lucky.” Maddox didn’t blink. “That was pretty. Now do something useful.”

Asshole, Jamie thought. Stupid, oversized, broken-nosed asshole.

He also thought, in a part of his brain he didn’t let the rest of his brain talk to: He has really good forearms.

His last thought before sleep dragged him under was this: Cole Maddox hadn’t yelled at him. He’d just looked at Jamie like he already knew what Jamie could be.

And that was so much worse.

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“Good Boy” — Cole’s POV — A scene TOO HOT for Amazon

The night Jamie first knelt on Cole’s rug, told from the other side. Every thought Cole suppressed. Every instinct he fought. Full explicit detail. Uncapped heat.

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